Page 104 of Sweet Chaos
“Fuck. Shit.” He clears his throat like he’s gearing up for something monumental. Because he is. It’s huge. “Will you marry me, Starlet?”
I can’t help it, I’m laughing and crying at the same time and all I can manage is a nod.
“That’s a yes?”
I nod again. “Yes.”
Dylan exhales loudly like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. I drop to my knees in front of him and practically knock him over when I throw my arms around him.
“Let me put the goddamn ring on it,” he says, but he’s laughing too and I’m covering his face in kisses. He pulls me to my feet and takes my hand in his, slipping a ring on my third finger. It’s a pink diamond. So perfect and so beautiful that I can’t stop the tears from falling.
He brushes my tears away with his thumbs before his mouth captures mine. I kiss him through my tears and my laughter and the kaleidoscope of butterflies that have invaded my stomach while his hands roam my body and my clothes magically disappear. Moments later I find myself naked in the hot tub, straddling him. Funny how that keeps happening. We’ve christened every surface of this house and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him.
I have a feeling our dinner is going to get cold, but neither of us cares. We have the flames of a hundred candles, a big orange moon and we have each other.
“What are we, Dylan?” I ask as I sink down on him, my arms wrapped around his neck.
“We’re everything, Starlet. Every fucking thing. We’re life.”
* * *
Five Years Later
I’m crouched on the sidewalk in front of my design studio, writing on the chalkboard sign when two girls in their late teens, early twenties saunter past in tiny bikinis, bottles of Fiji water in hand. They stop walking and turn to face the beach.
“He’s hot,” the blonde says to her friend, sliding her sunglasses down her nose.
“Mmm hmm,” the brunette agrees.
I ignore them, don’t even turn my head to look in the direction of the beach across the street. I don’t need to check out hot guys. I’m married to the hottest guy in SoCal. He’s hotter than the surfer dudes on the beach or the lifeguards that the teen girls are always gawking at. He’s five-alarm fire hot and heat flushes my face just thinking about how hot last night was. Despite being married with two kids and being crazy busy, I’m willing to forfeit sleep for sex with Dylan. I never thought I’d like being blindfolded with my hands tied to the headboard but if you never try it, you never know. And I’m willing to try anything once.
“Totally a DILF,” the blonde says.
That has me whipping my head around to check out who they’re talking about. Now I’m on my feet, hand on my forehead shielding my eyes as I search for the DILF.
My husband. Shirtless and barefoot in nothing but a pair of black board shorts slung low on his narrow hips, his ink and his abs and his deliciousness on display. He has a bag over one shoulder, and a girl in each of his arms, biceps flexing and bulging as he carries them across the beach and sets them down, along with the bag.
I watch him toss a few towels on the sand and he and the girls unpack all the plastic toys, dragging them down to the water’s edge. Now I’m staring, just like the girls next to me to see what he’ll do next. Everly and Isla are laughing, trying to jump on his back as he crouches down and fills a bucket with sand.
They’re building sand castles. Oh, my heart. There is my world, right there. On the beach under a bright blue sky and a blazing sun. My everyday crush, the three loves of my life sharing smiles and laughter.
“Let’s help him build a castle,” the brunette says.
My jaw drops and my hands go to my hips as I watch the two bikini-clad girls saunter across the beach towardmyhusband. Even after all these years it still makes me feel stabby when girls hit on Dylan.
Yo, bitches, he’s mine. Back off.
“Spying on your husband again?” Frankie teases as she joins me on the sidewalk. Cruz’s sister and I have gotten close. Like her brother, she has a head for numbers and takes care of all my accounting and paperwork.
I cross my arms as I watch them trying to strike up a conversation with the DILF under the guise ofhelpingto build a sand castle. But I force myself to relax. Dylan is loyal to the core. He only has eyes for his two little girls right now.
“Looks like you have nothing to worry about,” Frankie says with a smile that I return before she goes back inside and my gaze returns to Dylan and our girls.
Isla is a miniature version of Remy, their resemblance so strong it’s uncanny. Everly looks more like me, her blonde waves messy and tangled. Their skin always looks sun-kissed, their eyes so blue they rival the bluest skies. To see them together, you’d never know they were twins. To see them now, so strong and healthy, you’d never know that they came into the world weighing less than two pounds each, their entrance dramatic and terrifying but also miraculous.
If I had ever had a doubt when I was younger, I don’t have a single one now. I know that Dylan would walk through the pits of hell for me and I would do the same for him. When his baby girls were born, he never left that hospital. He was by my side through all the long days and nights spent in the NICU. He was my pillar of strength.
The boy who climbed into my bedroom window all those years ago became the man I can’t live without.
