29. Britta

Chapter twenty-nine

Britta

T wo days after I become Mrs. Dexter (or Thomsen-Dexter…possibly Dexter-Thomsen—we're still workshopping it), I put a down payment on Annie's— in cash, thanks to Dex . That same day, Stella and I wheel our suitcases into the white marble foyer of Archie's dad's beach house—he and Dex close behind—then try not to trip over our jaws when they hit the floor.

I stop in the middle of the entrance, tip my head back, and gaze into an array of crystals hanging from a giant chandelier. Sunlight pours in from the window that frames the chandelier, hitting the crystals before being reflected into a thousand tiny rainbows to dance in its rays.

"Archie?" Stella's voice wobbles beside me, where she stares at the same thing I am.

"Yeah?" There's a hint of nervousness in Archie's tone, and I suspect we both have an idea what's on Stella's mind.

"How rich are you?" She rotates to face him, and I do the same. As impolite as the question is, I want to hear the answer.

"Like I said, this is my dad's place." He shifts my duffle bag he's carrying from one shoulder to the other and doesn't meet our eyes.

"Then how rich is he?" Stella asks.

This time I elbow her for being rude, even while I stare at Archie, waiting for his answer.

"None of your business." He walks between us toward a staircase tiled in the same white marble as the rest of the foyer. "Come on, I'll show you your rooms."

Dex follows, stopping long enough between Stella and me to mutter, "billions rich," before grabbing my suitcase handle and wheeling it to a doorway that I now realize is an elevator.

"This house has an elevator?" Stella's words bounce off the white walls and high ceiling, stopping Archie's ascent up the stairs long enough for him to let out a loud sigh.

"We'll meet you up there, mate!" Dex calls cheerfully.

Archie answers with a terse nod before continuing his climb while the three of us and our too-big suitcases squeeze into the shoebox-sized elevator. When the doors close, Dex and I are pressed so tightly together, our chests touch.

The hint of longing in the soft smile he sends me stops my breath. I turn in a slow, half-circle to escape his dark, widening pupils ringed with gold and to settle my staggering-drunk pulse. Every part of me touches him in my attempt to put space between us, until finally, we're not chest to chest, but butt to… not chest. Not even waist. Lower.

And this is not better.

His balmy, coconut scent fills the tight space and makes me want to dive into the ocean with him—a feeling I'm trying very hard to avoid by not getting too close to him, literally and figuratively. It's hard enough not to find some excuse to touch him whenever I'm within an arm's-length. And the little I learned about him on our wedding night made me want to get to know him better—to share that closeness with him again.

The tight quarters on the airplane yesterday were torture. Dex didn't make things any easier with the way he kept brushing his fingers on my leg or arm. And now I'm pressed up against him in the Slowest Elevator Ever about to catch fire every time he brushes against me.

"Did anyone press the button?" Stella asks after eternities pass and we still haven't reached the second floor. "I don't think we're moving."

She answers her own question by reaching past me to push the round up button. The elevator stutters to a start, and she tips into me, forcing me even closer to Dex.

"Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry!" she exclaims, but I don't miss the grin she's trying to hide.

Fortunately, the ride is short. As soon as the door opens, I push my way past Stella, gasping for Dex-free air and space.

Archie's waiting in the hallway and leads us to a closed door. "This one's all yours, Britta. Unless you'd rather share with Stella."

"Up to you," I say to Stella, forcing my eyes wide so she knows the right answer.

I begged Stella to stay another week and somehow she talked Georgia into it. Good thing, too, because, despite her shenanigans on the elevator—or maybe because of my reaction to them—I need a buffer here between Dex and me.

Stella grins at me, then turns to Archie. "If you've got a room for me, I'll take it. Britta snores."

"You can have your own room." Archie laughs, then twists the knob, and the door swings open.

I send Stella a withering glare for both her snoring comment and her unbuffer-like demand for her own room, before stepping past Archie into a space half the size of the entire house I grew up in. There's a sitting area with a fireplace, a giant TV hanging on the wall, and an office nook. The colors are all soft blues and light beige, reflecting the view of the beach and ocean outside the sliding glass door that leads to a patio.

And the bed? That's big and fluffy enough to rival the one Dex and I had at the Mansion. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing, but I don't dare look, afraid he'll see how hard I'm fighting not to think about his arms around me, holding me, letting me cry.

"Are all the rooms this big?" I ask Archie.

He shakes his head. "Dex wanted you to have the primary bedroom."Now I look at Dex, whose slow shrug is followed by an even slower smile. "Least I could do."

I look back at Archie. "You really don't want to live here? This room is bigger than your entire apartment."

Archie lets out an exasperated sigh. "Bigger doesn't mean better. I have reasons for staying where I am."

Before I can come up with any other arguments, Archie leads Stella out the door to her room. "There's a bathroom between your room and Dex's, but if you don't want to share with him, maybe you can use Britta's," he says as they walk down the hall.

Which prompts me to open the door on the opposite wall from the bed, which has to lead to the bathroom. I gasp before I have it all the way open.

"I thought you'd like it," Dex says behind me.

I turn slowly, taking in the white marble, dark wood, and tasteful touches of gold. "This is the biggest bathroom I've ever seen."

He laughs. "Check out the size of the tub. Figured you'd enjoy a soak in that."

"I can't wait." I run my fingertips along the curved edge of the free-standing porcelain bathtub, then look back at Dex.

Red creeps across his cheeks and, like a rock over still water, my heart skips.

"Where's your room?" With my thumb and pinky, I twist Mom's ring around my finger.

Dex's eyes don't leave mine as he wags his head toward the hall. "Right across the hall."

"So… close?"

He nods.

I swallow.

And Stella yells. "Britta, you've got to come see this!"

Dex and I huff a laugh at the same time, our eyes still locked, before I walk past him, closer than I need to in this giant bathroom, because, as I've already admitted, I'm like a bear to honey. I can't stop helping myself to Dex, no matter how sticky the situation might get.

"Coming!" I call, then follow her excited voice to a room only slightly smaller than mine, but with a life-sized picture of the whole squad from Surf City High.

She spends the next ten minutes asking Archie and Dex random questions about the show's winding character arcs that are so specific, neither one of them can answer. Dex just laughs, but Archie's energy depletes faster than a pin-pricked balloon leaking air.

In a moment of silence, when Stella spots a pod of dolphins and runs to her room's balcony to watch them, Dex says, "we'll leave you girls to unpack. Archie and I are going to catch a few waves while the surf's good."

"Oh… Okay." I'm not sure why this surprises me—that Dex will go on with his regular life, like nothing's changed. Technically, nothing really has, even if my life has taken a one-hundred-eighty degree turn in the past four days. "Maybe I'll see you later tonight, then?"

"Maybe." Dex bobs his head up and down, then turns to leave.

He's almost to the door, and my stomach is somewhere near the floor when he stops, pivots, and lets his mouth slide into a mischievous grin. "Unless you'd rather leave unpacking for later and take your first surf lesson instead."

My stomach may as well be bungee jumping, the way it shoots back up into my chest when Dex's brown eyes—two smooth, shimmering espressos—meet mine.

"I would absolutely rather surf with you," I say without even thinking about it.

Only when Archie closes his eyes and, in a tiny, almost imperceptible motion, shakes his head, do I wonder if I should have said no.

But the thought gets lost in Dex's dimpled smile.