28. Dex

Chapter twenty-eight

Dex

W hen I wake up the next morning with Britta still in my arms, I dare to hope it won't be the last time. I wish I could wake up like this every morning except without the kink in my neck and my arm stiff. I'm used to waking up with some part of my body hurting; I'm not used to waking up at peace with the world and my place in it.

Talking to Britta did that for me. My friends don't even know how uneducated I feel around most people. When they surfed professionally, they had tutors. They all finished Year Twelve. Archie has a university degree—only because his dad made him get it, but I'd take that type of dad over a dad who convinces you that you're such a good surfer you don't need a high school certificate.

What sixteen-year-old doesn't want to believe that? It only took a decade, heaps of minor injuries, and one major one to make me realize I don't have other options if surfing doesn't work out.

Britta didn't try to convince me I'm more than a surfer, and she didn't judge me for my lack of education either. Which makes me trust her even more.

While we say goodbye to her family, we're totally at ease with each other—holding hands and being affectionate. Because the news of our wedding is out, there's a bit of media waiting for us outside the hotel, and we keep up the act. Our legs even touch inside the Escalade on our way to the airport.

It's not until we're safely in the air and Archie announces he's got a place for us to live that things get weird. Britta, sitting next to me, our shoulders brushing, suddenly leans away.

"Wait." Across from Britta, Stella looks up from her magazine, which, ironically, is plastered with the face of the rock star sitting across from her. "You're not staying at the apartment with me?"

Britta looks at Archie, who shakes his head.

"It's gotta look real from the start. We talked about this," he says to her. "It's better if you two move into the beach house right away."

"The beach house?" Britta and I say together at the same time Stella says, "What about me?"

"Yeah, my dad's beach house," Archie says, as though it's obvious. "No one's using it. You can stay there for now until you find a place of your own. You too, Stella. I don't care. It just has to look like Britta and Dex are living as a married couple."

"How nice is this beach house?" Stella asks with a slightly calculating expression. "Like run-down chic, beach-adjacent? Or somewhere Rhys would stay?"

"Somewhere Rhys has stayed. Very comfortably, I'll add," Rhys answers, not looking up from his phone.

"Cool. I'm in." Stella smiles, ignoring Britta's sharp look.

"Why don't you stay at your dad's beach house?" Britta asks. "That makes more sense. Dex and I can stay at the apartment. I'll take over your portion of the rent."

Archie shakes his head. "If I wanted to live there, I'd be there already. The house will give Dex a bigger image of success. The more successful he looks; the more companies will want him promoting their brands. And you'll have a place right on the beach."

I rest my fingertips on Britta's knee to nudge her to let it go.

But Britta doesn't get the message. She shifts in the large captain's chair, putting more space between us. "Do I get a say? Or am I the silent partner in this arrangement?"

"And so, the fun begins," Rhys lets out a low laugh, then his eyes drop to his face on Stella's magazine. "Don't believe any of that," he says to her. "I never dated Gigi Paris. It's not my fault she and Glen broke up. I barely know her."

Stella shrugs and opens the magazine again. "Like I told you yesterday, I can help you take control of your own story."

"You're not a silent partner," I say to Britta over Rhys and Stella. "You have a say in all of this."

"I'm just trying to help." Archie puts up his hands but sounds irritated.

I send Archie a look, warning him to keep his temper in check, then I turn to Britta. "The house is nice. You'd have your own bedroom and bathroom, and I'd still be within walking distance of good waves. But we can figure something else out if you're uncomfortable or want to pick something out yourself."

We hit a patch of light turbulence, and the small plane rattles. Not a lot, but enough for Britta to grab the hand I've got on my armrest. Her face is white, and her jaw clenched tight. I guess fearing heights also includes airplanes. Which also explains why she was so nervous on the flight here. It wasn't just about marrying me. I wish she'd have told me.

I flip my hand over and lace my fingers through hers, then put my other hand over both of ours. "I've got you," I whisper. "It'll pass."

Almost as soon as the words are out, the turbulence is over. Too soon for me. Even though Britta is gripping my hand as tight as she did on the High Roller, she lets go before I'm ready.

"How close is it to Annie's ?" She clutches her hands on her lap, still nervous, but not needing me anymore.

"Ten minutes, unless there's traffic. During the summer, you'll want to bike the boardwalk to get there." I try not to stare at her long, slender fingers. "I meant what I said about you having a say. If you don't want to move to the beach house, we'll find somewhere else."

"We're only five minutes walking distance from Annie's now."

"Yeah, but Archie's house isn't surrounded by bars and restaurants. It's quieter."

She nods with her whole body, then asks Archie, "How much is the rent?"

"Nothing. No rent."

"Your dad is letting us live there for free?" Britta's eyes tighten at the corners.

Archie presses back into his seat without meeting Britta's gaze. "He won't know."

"He won't know?" Britta blinks. "Your dad just has so many beach houses lying around that he doesn't notice if someone moves into one without paying rent?"

Archie narrows his eyes and sucks on his cheek. "He thinks I live there."

The house doesn't hold good memories for Archie, but his dad gave it to him, anyway. Archie's letting us use it, not only as a gift for us but also as a gift for himself. He hates worrying about the upkeep on a house he doesn't want but can't sell.

"So, then, circling back…" Britta draws out her sentence, and I have an idea what's coming next. "Why don't you live there, and Dex and I can stay in your apartment?"

Archie shakes his head before she's even finished the question. "Because I don't want to live there."

She opens her mouth, but I touch her arm to stop her. "It's a really nice place. Very posh."

Archie's got his reasons for not wanting to stay there. If he wants Britta to know them, he'll tell her. She looks between me and Archie a few more times before seeming to understand there's some history that justifies Archie's reasons for living in a basic apartment instead of his own house.

"Don't be a dummy, Britta," Stella says without looking up from her magazine. "Live in the posh beach house."

Britta turns up her palms in surrender. "Okay."

The rest of the trip goes by quickly, with no turbulence, which is a bummer. I enjoy holding Britta's hand. I like Britta. A lot.

This is a problem. We haven't been married forty-eight hours, and already I can't stop thinking about waking up with her in my arms. It was hard enough just holding her on our wedding night. My willpower was stretched to the limit. I don't seem to have any left to help me redirect my thoughts away from her.

The curve of her full lips. The way her hair sweeps across her forehead, highlighting her blue eyes. The way my thumb fits perfectly in the groove between her waist and hipbone. The way…

"Dex?" Archie stares at me, and I come back to myself. "You coming, mate?"

Everyone else is filing out of the plane—including Britta—while I'm sitting here daydreaming about her.

How am I supposed to focus on surfing if all I can think about is how to break all her rules about no touching or kissing?

And now, here we are… about to move in together.

I push myself up and grab my bag from the overhead compartment, then follow Archie out the door. Britta is ahead of us, holding back her blonde hair to keep the wind from wreaking havoc with it as she walks the stairs to the tarmac. Her wide-legged jeans show off the length of her legs, and the t-shirt tucked into them emphasizes her slim waist.

When she glances over her shoulder and smiles at me, my breath catches. I smile back, but not before she turns back around, loops her arm through Stella's and bends close to tell her something.

"Dex?"

It's Archie. I've stopped moving again.

I lift my chin, then hurry down the last of the stairs while he waits. A black SUV waits for us—Rhys, more specifically—and the girls climb into the backseat.

"What are you thinking, mate?" Archie asks, like he doesn't already know the answer.

The driver closes the door to the SUV, and Britta disappears from my view.

"Being fake married is already heaps harder than your no-dating rule." I'm still staring at the spot where Britta stood a few seconds ago.

"Yeah. I thought it might be. Think you can keep it together until our Azores trip? You'll get a few weeks' reprieve there. Maybe we make time for Pipe, too." He looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

I nod.

Archie can tell I've got a problem.

Britta has become the distraction she wasn't supposed to be.