Page 95 of Pucking Wild

God, this is such a disaster.

Not to mention I found out while in a post-orgasm haze, sitting naked at Ryan’s feet. Yeah, that was awkward. And now the energy between us feels so strained. He still wants me to file a restraining order against Troy and order a retraction fromThe Sun. I just want to pretend none of this is happening and plan a donor gala for my sea turtles.

What should have been a blissful moment of connection was ruined. We argued. I stormed off. It was only after I cooled down that I peeked in his room to see him on his back in his clunky knee brace playing Mario Kart. Glancing over at me with a frown, he flipped the covers back on the open side of the bed. I tiptoed in, slipped under the covers, and fell asleep next to him. We didn’t touch or speak.

When I woke in the morning, he was gone. Apparently, a rookie picked him up early for PT. He stayed out late, too, not coming home until I was already in bed. I pretended to be asleep. Without ‘waking’ me, he crawled into my bed and fell asleep. I waited for him to kiss me…touch me…anything.

But again, he didn’t.

“Troy only has a few days left to reply to your request, right?” Rachel asks, pulling me back to the present.

“Yeah, three.”

“And if he doesn’t sign?”

“Then we go to court. But I never expected him to sign on his own,” I admit. “He was always going to fight. I’m putting all my hope in Bea that she can talk him around.”

“And you really think she’ll help you? When has she ever helped you before?”

“None of us want a long, drawn-out legal proceeding as we fight over lamps,” I reply. “Bea wants it all swept under the carpet. If getting him to sign uncontested protects her and the firm from any embarrassment, she’ll apply the pressure. I don’t care how she manages it; I just want it done.”

“I know you do, honey.” She wraps an arm around my shoulders.

Rachel and I continue our walk in silence, our bare feet sinking into the sand, our hands gripping to our warm cups of coffee. It’s blustery for January, and we’re both bundled up with polar fleeces. The beach is quiet. Only a few surfers are out in the water. The surf is icy cold on my toes, but it feels good.

“And you’re sure Jake is okay?” I say, glancing over.

“Honestly, he seems thrilled about it all.”

I raise a brow, flicking a windswept curl out of my face. “Why?”

“Because now he gets PDA from us as we smooth this over,” she replies with a grin. “He already planned a date night over at Top Golf for Caleb on Tuesday. And unless I can talk him out of it, I think he’s gonna make me try indoor skydiving. So, thanks for that,” she adds.

I laugh out loud at the mental image of Rachel floating in one of those wind tube things. “Oh god, I want pictures of you fake skydiving so bad. Give those to the paps. They’ll be frame-worthy for sure. I’m thinking entryway.”

“We’ll blow them up and hang them over the bed,” she adds with a laugh.

I cackle, grabbing her arm. “Ohmygod, and Mars will have to see Jake’s stupid wind tunnel face every time he does you doggy style.”

I make the face, and then we’re both dying, laughing so hard we’re crying.

“Tess!”

As if laughing about him is a summons, we both turn to see Ilmari marching down the sand towards us. He’s got his blond hair pulled up in his characteristic messy bun. And while he’s wearing workout pants and shoes, the man is only in a Rays tech T-shirt. It’s 50 degrees outside.

“Does he even own a jacket?”

“I don’t think so,” Rachel replies. “Kulta?” she calls. “What’s wrong, baby?”

He ignores his wife, glaring at me. In his hand is an envelope, and I think I know exactly what this is about. I square off at him, one hand on my hip as I casually take a sip of my coffee.

“Morning, Mars Attack.”

“What is this?” He holds up the envelope.

Rachel’s eyes go wide as she glances between us. “What’s going on?”

“I assume you’re referring to the invitation I sent you?” I say with a fake smile. “So glad you got it.”

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