24. Twenty-Four

24

TWENTY-FOUR

“ H ow do I look?”

Olivia did a pirouette in front of me, the skirt on her dress flaring out. All I could see was me taking that dress off her when we were finished with yet another charity outing with mandatory attendance according to my father.

I looked her up and down, taking longer than was necessary, and smiled. “You look okay.” That was a lie. She looked freaking amazing. The lavender color set off her hair, eyes, and skin tone. I was in the mood to banter, though.

Thankfully, Olivia was almost always in the mood to banter.

“I look like a model, and you know it,” she shot back, doing another twirl. This time I could see the panties she was wearing and there looked to be a pair of glittery lips on her butt.

“Hold up,” I reached for her, but she neatly sidestepped me, clearly anticipating the move. “What’s on your butt?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” she replied sweetly.

“Liar, liar pants on fire,” I drawled.

“I think your pants are the ones on fire,” she countered.

My lips curved. “Do you have lips on your butt? I need to see.” I reached for her again, but she was oddly agile for a woman who played zero sports.

“You’ll find out, eventually.” She winked, then planted her hands on her hips as she took in my khakis and blue polo shirt. “You have a shirt in your closet that will match my dress. I saw it the other day when I was looking around. You should change into it.”

“Why were you looking through my closet?” I leaned low so I could try to get a look up her skirt again.

“Because you wear a lot of dark colors and I thought maybe I could buy you a nice shirt to brighten up your wardrobe.”

Slowly, I tracked my eyes to her face. “You want to buy me a shirt?”

She shrugged, embarrassment tracking over her features. “It was just a thought. Don’t get weird about it.”

“Do wives often buy clothes for their husbands?” We’d been playing the Husband-and-Wife game for more than a week at this point. It seemed both of us were daring the other to embrace the “realness” of our relationship. Neither one of us had budged. Yet.

“I have no idea.” She shrugged, noncommittal. “What do you think?”

“I think it sounds sort of wifely.”

“Was it husbandly when you bought the dress for our announcement to our parents?”

Ah, she’d turned it around on me. I should’ve seen that coming. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

And so it kept going.

I didn’t want to keep living in limbo. I wanted to embrace the idea of being a real married couple. I didn’t want to put myself out there and be shut down, though. I liked how things were going, and if I pushed too soon, she might close herself off.

It wasn’t just the sex—although that was most definitely fun—but some of my favorite times were spent in the darkness after. We talked about anything and everything. I found out that her love for old things included shows like A Different World and Family Ties . I’d heard of them but never seen them. She’d suggested we pick one to start binging, and even though I’d never considered myself a “Netflix and Chill” sort of dude—I lived in Las Vegas after all—the idea held some appeal. Once we were on the couch, however, we never made it more than ten minutes until we decided to do something else. Usually each other.

“What’s this charity event we’re going to again?” she asked, her gaze moving to the mirror so she could study her reflection. “I need to make sure I’m dressed correctly. I’m always so unsure about these things.”

“You look beautiful.” I stood and wrapped my arms around her from behind, burying my face in her neck. She smelled like lavender too.

“Yeah, I’m not going to take your word for it.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “Remind me. What are we going to?”

“It’s a croquet tea to help battered women.”

“I like what we’re going for. Croquet, though?”

I shrugged. “It’s one of my mother’s pet projects.” I pulled back. “She seems to have a new one of those by the way.”

Olivia pursed her lips. She looked momentarily thrown. “Um … did I not tell you that your mother joined my mother and me for lunch last week?” She was the picture of innocence. “She heard what we were working on and decided to get involved.”

I didn’t believe her. “Why did she really volunteer her time? Because—and no offense to my mother—this doesn’t seem like something she would want to do. I mean… I don’t see her spending a lot of time with dancers.”

She shrugged. “I can’t recall.” She was horrible when it came to lying. She couldn’t maintain eye contact.

“Just tell me,” I prodded. “I’m not going to say anything to her. My mother and I don’t have deep conversations like that.”

She sighed. “You should. Your mother is actually an interesting person. Well, when you get her away from your father that is.” It was almost as if she thought she’d said too much because she darted her eyes away from our reflection again.

“Come on,” I prodded. “Just tell me.”

Her sigh was long and drawn out. “Do you promise not to say anything?”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll keep it between you and me.”

“Your mother seems to be … chafing, I guess would be the right word … under your father’s more petulant responses to things.”

I frowned as I considered it. “You mean his meltdown at the golf event.”

“Yes. I don’t think living with your father is easy for your mother.”

“Living with my father isn’t easy for anybody. Why do you think I moved into the casino even though I could’ve stayed at home in a mansion?”

“I figured that was so you could rail your showgirls without risking anybody overhearing. I’m guessing your parents wouldn’t have opened their doors to your dalliances all that willingly.”

“Actually, my father probably would’ve been fine with it,” I said. “I’m not sure he’s all that faithful to my mother.” I thought of his new secretary—it was his third in three months—and shook my head. “I’m not certain, though.”

Olivia’s countenance was dark when she pulled away from me. “Really?” Her tone was measured. “I see.”

“Don’t.” I poked her side. “I’m not like my father. I have zero interest in playing that game.” We might still be tiptoeing around the topic of being really married, but I didn’t want her thinking this was a game. “That’s not who I am.” I was sincere.

She relaxed a bit. “I know. You’re nothing like your father. I just… Can I say something without upsetting you?”

There was no hesitation again. “Yes.”

“I don’t like your father.”

I waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I broke out in a wide grin. “Nobody likes him. Even his friends pretend to like him.”

“I like your sisters. I know you think they’re out to get you, but they’re not. They’re out to get your father, but they’re genuinely fond of you. I didn’t think I liked your mother, but I’ve spent a lot of time with her since she joined the cause, and I’m actually a big fan.”

I rolled my neck. “You think it’s my father making her miserable.”

“I think your father gets off on making people feel small,” she replied. “He wants you to feel smaller. He wants your sisters to know their place. He wants your mother to organize charity events so he looks good and gets the credit. He’s not a loyal guy, though. It’s interesting to me that he managed to raise four loyal children when he’s the exact opposite.”

“He didn’t raise us, though,” I pointed out. “We had nannies … and house staff. My mother was more hands-on than him, but even she wasn’t always around. He didn’t spend any time with us when we were kids.

“Like … your father took you and Rex camping when you were kids,” I continued. “He took you on day outings. I remember once he showed up to the school when we were in sixth grade, and he took Rex for the afternoon just to hang out with him.”

“He used to do that with me, too,” she admitted. “He would take me for ice cream dates. We would go to the mall, and he would let me pick out an outfit with no input from my mother.”

“Did you pick out weird stuff?”

She shook her head. “No. I was always a good girl. Besides, that wasn’t my favorite part of the shopping trips.”

“What was your favorite part?”

“When he took me to the bookstore and said I could buy however many books I wanted. He didn’t care what they were—he let me buy romance books in middle school and everything—and there was never a limit.”

“Did you leave with a hundred books?” I could just see her needing a cart when leaving the bookstore because of her haul.

“Of course not.” She shook her head. “We didn’t have the money for that. I limited it to five books.”

“And that’s the reason he did it,” I said. “He knew you were the best girl in the world and you would never take advantage of a situation.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I … that might be the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me.” There was vulnerability in her eyes.

“You shouldn’t be surprised.” I pushed a strand of the hair that had escaped from the ornate clip she’d used to pull back her hair behind her ear. “That’s the same reason I married you.”

Her brow furrowed. “You married me to get your father off your back.”

“Yes, well, that’s true in the grand scheme of things. The reason it was you, though, is because I didn’t have to worry about you taking advantage of the situation. Someone else—someone nowhere as wonderful as you—might have tried to extort money out of me. Someone else would’ve actually taken the credit card I offered and gone shopping. You, though, you’re trying to find shirts for me … and you’re spending time with my mother … and you’re worrying about the sort of outfit you wear to a croquet tournament, but not because you think others will be judging you. It’s because you don’t want to reflect badly on me.”

She tilted her head but didn’t say anything.

“For the record, you could never reflect poorly on me.” I kissed the tip of her nose and then pulled away. “I’m going to change my shirt. Then we’ll head out.”

Her brow creased. “Are you actually going to wear the lavender shirt?”

“I want to match my wife. Of course I am.”

“People are going to make fun of you.”

What she didn’t say was that my father was going to make fun of me. For the first time ever, I realized I didn’t care what he thought. “It will just take me five minutes.” I gave her a soul-sucking kiss before heading down the hallway. “Time me.”

“OH, YOU GUYS LOOK ADORABLE.”

My mother was a gushing mess when she saw that Olivia and I had coordinated our outfits. She immediately insisted on taking a photo of us. Because I was feeling happy—happier than I’d ever felt—I dipped Olivia back before she could say anything and planted a whopper of a kiss on her. My mother sighed as she took the photo.

“Look at you smiling.” She grabbed my cheek and gave it a pinch. “I love that you’re so happy.”

“I love it too.” I slid my arm around Olivia’s waist and granted my father a look. He was dressed in an expensive Ralph Lauren gray suit. It didn’t clash with my mother’s dress, but he obviously hadn’t gone through the trouble of matching with her. “Father,” I said when he just stared.

“Zachary.” He nodded in greeting. “You’re looking well.”

“You too.” I waited for him to say something about Olivia but he didn’t comment. “And Olivia looks pretty too, doesn’t she?”

Olivia shot me a quelling look. With her eyes she said “don’t bother.”

I continued to stare expectantly at my father.

“Of course she does,” Dad replied without hesitation. “That goes without saying.”

“It’s still nice to hear.” I kept Olivia firmly anchored at my side. “Mom looks beautiful, doesn’t she?”

“Your mother is always dressed appropriately for the occasion,” was my father’s stilted reply.

Mom looked at him, no love in her gaze, then pointed her smile at us. “I have to check on a few things. You guys should actually play in the tournament. You’ll have fun.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek, squeezing Olivia’s hand at the same time. “Keep those smiles exactly where they are. I love seeing them on your faces.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Once she was gone, my father proceeded to sip his drink and stare.

“Are you going to play?” I asked after a full thirty seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“Croquet?” Dad made a snorting sound. “No, I don’t think I am. There’s no skill to the game.”

“I think he’s just afraid,” Olivia supplied out of nowhere.

I stiffened slightly and gave her an odd look. “You think who is afraid?”

“Your dad,” she replied. “There’s no shame in it,” she added for my father’s benefit. “I wouldn’t want to play if I knew I was going to lose either. Have a few cocktails, mingle. You’ll have more fun doing that than losing.”

I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing. Or maybe I was worried I would cry if my father lost it and started screaming at her. Rather than react, I simply watched my father to see what he would do.

“That’s nonsense,” Dad said, forcing a laugh. “Why would I possibly be afraid of losing? This isn’t a game of skill.”

“So you’ve said.” Olivia’s smile never faltered. “It’s fine. We’re going to play, though.” She tugged on my sleeve. “Come on. I want to be purple.”

“You’ve got it.” I took her hand and nodded at my father. “I’m sure we’ll see you before we go.”

I could feel my father’s eyes on me as we started toward the booth where they were handing out mallets and balls.

“Oh, no,” Dad said as he started to follow. “Now I’m going to play. I’m going to show you exactly how little skill is involved.” He passed us to get his mallet and ball, leaving us in the dust.

I slid my eyes to Olivia, who looked smug. “Are you happy? You poked the bear.”

She shrugged. “He bugs me. What can I say?”

“He’s going to be a monster when he loses.”

“Yes, well, that’s what I’m counting on.”

“IT WAS RIGGED!”

Dad was still complaining thirty minutes after Muffy Watson stopped dancing with her trophy. She was seventeen, the daughter of one of his so-called best friends, and thrilled with her mall shopping certificate.

“There’s no way that girl beat me,” Dad hissed as I nudged Olivia toward the cocktail table. If I was going to have to listen to my father lose his shit for the second time in less than a month, I was going to need something to wash away my headache.

“You’re driving,” I said to her in a low voice. “I’m going to drink away my sorrows, and since you’re the one who caused this little scene, you’re the one being punished with no alcohol.”

She looked genuinely apologetic. “How was I supposed to know that a teenager was going to be the one to beat him?” she challenged. “There’s no way I could’ve known that.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered who beat him,” I replied. “He was still going to melt down like a twelve-year-old.”

“You’d better not be talking about me,” Dad raged as he followed us. “I am not behaving like a twelve-year-old.”

“You’re right,” Olivia declared as she turned to face him. “You’re acting worse than a twelve-year-old. Rex showed more grace when I beat him at Monopoly when he was eight.”

For a moment—just a split second really—I thought there was a chance my father was going to lash out with his fist. I’d never seen him so furious. His face was red, and his eyes were practically bulging out of his sockets.

I instinctively stepped between Olivia and him. If he was going to throw a punch, he was going to hit me, not my wife.

Dad didn’t go that far, though. He did bring his fist up in front of him, clench it, and glare at Olivia as if she was his sworn enemy for life. Then he proceeded to gnash his teeth and glare at her.

“Maybe we should go,” I said.

“That would probably be good,” Dad agreed, his breath coming out in heavy gusts. “In fact, that’s my recommendation. Head on out.” There was a challenge in his eyes when he glared at Olivia.

For her part, Olivia didn’t seem all that worried. In fact, her gaze was on my father’s wrist instead of his face.

“That’s an interesting watch,” she said to him.

Dad looked down at the watch, then back at her. “What about it?”

“An infinity symbol,” she replied, “It’s just a catchy design.”

“Well, it was an expensive watch. I would hope it was a catchy design.” As if remembering who he was, the power he wielded, he straightened. “I doubt it would look good on you.”

“Oh, I don’t want it,” Olivia replied. “It’s a bit garish for my taste. I just find the symbol interesting.”

I had no idea where she was going with this, but it was a conversation for later. “Let’s go,” I said to her. “We’ll have a nice dinner when we get back to the strip. Then we’ll go for drinks wherever you want.”

“Don’t tease me,” she deadpanned.

I grinned. “Even the Purple Zebra.”

Dad looked horrified. “Why would you possibly go there?”

“It’s one of our favorite watering holes,” Olivia replied. “We won’t ask you to join us.” She cast the watch one more glance. I wanted to know what she was thinking but knew better than to ask in front of my father. “As always, it was a pleasure seeing you. I can’t wait until we do it again.”

With that she took my hand and gave it a tug toward the parking lot. Apparently, family time was over.

I was relieved … but perturbed. Exactly what had just happened?