Page 46 of Fight For Us
“When I was standing there looking at you, I realized we never set an end date for this.” He dropped his hand and took a step back. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” I corrected.
“No, you’re right. We never did discuss an end date. I’ll leave that up to you.” He shrugged, which irritated me. This was important. We needed rules—boundaries—or someone was bound to get hurt.
“You don’t care then? What if I said five years? You’re really willing to shackle yourself to me and my kid for that long?” I crossed my arms and stared him down.
He shrugged again. “Like I said, up to you.”
“Okay, then. Prepare to live the rest of your good penis years in a sexless, fake marriage.”
“Good penis years?” Ha… I knew that would catch his attention.
“Yup. The years before ED kicks in. I’ve heard it can start as early as the thirties for some men,” I said in a serious tone.
“I don’t think I’ll have to worry about that, Tiger.” Ugh, I wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face. Was I now seriously wishing for this man to experience erectile dysfunction out of spite? He chuckled and my ears flamed. Yes. Yes, I was.
“Fine,” I huffed. “How about six months? That should be enough time for the custody situation and for me to get my life in order.”
“Six months,” he repeated. “Like I said, whatever you think.”
“Why are you being so agreeable? It’s annoying the crap out of me.”
“Would you rather I argue with you?”
“Maybe! I don’t know!” I paced in front of the desk, which according to the nameplate belonged to someone named Larry.Too bad Larry didn’t have a stash of chocolate next to his keyboard, that would have really taken the edge off for me. Wes’s chuckle brought my gaze back to him. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, Tiger. Come on, we should get back out there before the kids get antsy.” I hated that he was right. “Anything else you want to bang out now before we make this official?”
“Nice choice of words,” I grumbled.
“I’m quite proud of them, thanks.”
I heaved a sigh that I was sure could be heard in the lobby, even over the instrumental version of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”
“Wait,” I said. He stopped in the doorway and I almost piled into his brick wall of a back. “Did we ever figure out the living arrangements?” He stared at me with deer in headlight eyes before blinking slowly. “We didn’t, did we?”
“No,” he laughed. “Of all the things, we never decided on that.”
“I think as soon as I get that insurance card I’m scheduling a brain scan for myself. How? Of all the things, how did we forget to discuss that?”
We paused, both clearly trying to figure out the answer to that particular issue. Neither of our homes would work. Not in the long term at least.
“We’ll figure it out, okay? Let’s just get your beautiful ass out there and do this damn thing before the judge makes us reschedule.”
He thought I was beautiful? I couldn’t dwell on his comment. He was right, I’d stalled long enough. Plus, plenty of guys have called me beautiful. That didn’t mean they meant it, or that I could trust them. I needed to remember that, even when it came to Wes. Especially when it came to Wes. Out of all the times I’ve been broken, he had the capability to shatter me beyond repair. If I could keep that in mind and keep my walls intact, these six months would be cake.
“Welcome to the family, Mrs. Reed!” Walter enveloped me in a hug that lingered long enough for Wes to pull him away with a groan. Val focused on hugging the kids, who the judge had sweetly included in the quick ceremony. I still wasn’t sure they realized what had happened. Maybe Lilly had, but Alex still looked dazed.
I couldn’t blame him. I was dazed too, but for a different reason. Wes kissed me… right there in front of his parents, our kids, and the judge. He kissed me and it felt real. The moment replayed on a loop in my head for the next hour. It went something like this:
Val asking if we should go to lunch—me replaying the feeling of Wes’s palm on my cheek as he pulled me in.
Us arriving at Pebble Grill on the beach—me thinking about Wes’s lips brushing against mine. Gently, like the tip of a lit match touching a wick.
Me ordering a chicken sandwich—his lips parting mine, the tiniest touch of our tongues. Flames burning through me, setting my blood on fire.
Slowly and methodically eating, while nodding and answering basic questions—him breaking the kiss, pressing his forehead against mine. The scratch of his beard against my face. The warmth of his lips, moist from our kiss, against my nose.
Wes tapping my shoulder—me thinking about how I wanted him to kiss me again.
