Sunrise

After we watched the sunrise, we were ready to go back to bed, but the moms—all three of them—Larry and Marks had been whipping breakfast up.

For over an hour, we heard memories they’d had of us, and even tears were shed when they talked about our breakup. I never considered how it affected our parents, but it did. They shared pictures of us they’d taken from the deck, and Leland posted the selfie.

Last night’s grand slam doesn’t have shit on this morning’s play. #Biggestplayofmylife #Forceatthird #threetimesisacharm #shesaidyes #beenhersforever #shesmineforlife #wifeingit #thekingandqueenareback #classcouple

Then he set his phone to do not disturb.

We went back to bed with full bellies and exhausted from the previous day’s events. I fell asleep wrapped in his arms, pretending I didn’t know his big paw of a hand was sprawled across my belly protectively.

When Leland left for the game, he made me promise not to move, to get some rest, and I did just that until the ‘rents left to go to the game.

Showered, shaved, and dressed, I grab my laptop and head to the dining room table. I open it and set out to find out more about William Center and Janice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Ass a good foot off my chair, I glare at him. “Scare me again like that, and I’ll be kicking your ass.”

“Sorry, York,” he says, glancing at my sling as he sits in the chair beside me. “You really should be in bed.”

“I want updates.” I continue to scroll as I add, “And to make sure my partner is okay, because …” I throw a hand in the air. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“For a second, I was thinking exactly what you suspected I was.”

“That’s not how we work, Marks.”

He nods, leans back, and gives me an oh yeah look.

“Fine, I fucked up, too. I?—”

He leans forward. “You fucked up in a way you almost died. I fucked up in a way that I could have done some time.”

He’s not wrong.

“But as I said, yeah, I wanted to kill him for what he did to you, to Chloe, CeCe, and would have done to Cora, but I was also buying some time for the reward to be posted to make sure we could collect.”

“The what?” I shake my head. “There wasn’t?—”

“There was. Lawson has some connections. He also has ten percent coming because he’s the one who got it pushed through as soon as Janice was in custody. She’s on parole, too. Her real last name is Sutter, which is why we missed it. Threats of lawsuits made by the right people, and the State of California is paying up and will be shit-canning members of their parole board.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred and fifty for Center and fifty for Janice.”

“How much did she swindle out of Cora’s college fund?”

“Seventy-five, and fifty from her old man’s house sale.”

“I don’t give a shit about her old man. He pissed away her college fund on a piece of ass.” I start punching numbers into the computer. “We’ve paid out five K for surveillance and information, and Lawson’s cut. After taxes and expenses for security systems at Wags, CeCe’s, and the one we need to install at Roman’s, I say we give Chloe the money her mother intended for Cora’s education?”

“Agree with all that.”

“We should still have over fifty in hand.”

“Which would give Cora’s old man?—”

“No.”

“Man made a shit choice after he lost his wife.”

“Had Danny and Chloe not been on top of it, that shit choice would have cost him his daughter, too. Fuck him.”

“Meet me in the middle, York.”

“He can have ten, but so can Chloe and CeCe; that’s more than in the middle.”

“They won’t take a cent.”

“We could buy Aggie ponies.” I smile. “Let Danny and Chloe decide what the old man gets.”

“You know she’s gonna hand it over to him because …?” He waits for me to fill in the blank.

“He and his wife loved Cora and ultimately saved Chloe and CeCe.”

“Ding, ding, ding.”

I flip him off.

“Tomorrow, we have to meet with Jersey PD. Do you want them to come here, or should we meet them in Trenton?”

“Up to you.”

“If it’s up to me, I’m never leaving this place.”

We both look around.

“The money these guys make is fucking mind-blowing.”

“The lack of security even more so,” I add.

“Everything is on order, and it’s on your future husband’s black card.” He pushes back his chair and stands. “You need to get some sleep. Three days, and I’m guessing we’re heading back to Texas.”

“Anything in the works there?” I ask, closing my laptop as I stand.

“Couple installs, if we want. Easy ten G’s in a week.”

“You think you can get someone to help?”

He shakes his head. “Already sliding into pro athlete’s wife position nicely, I see.”

“I mean, I could do that, or I could visit my father and let him know I’m getting engaged.”

He smiles, realizing what that means for the business. “Yeah, I think I know a guy.”

We both look at the ring, and he rolls his eyes.

I take up arms. “Means more to me because his grandmother wanted me to have it.”

“I’m not dissing the ring because it’s big and green. I’m busting on you because you have no clue how rare a green diamond is and how much that thing is probably worth.”

***

When I feel the bed dip beside me, I roll to my side and whimper, clearly forgetting I was shot yesterday, or the day before, or hell, I have no idea what time or day it is, for that matter. What I do know is today felt like I was transported back ’05, and we’re getting a second chance.

“Missed the game. Ya win?” I whisper.

“He won, all right. You. And a bitch doesn’t even have the decency to call or text her besties? What the fuck, York?”

“I suck,” I admit, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. “But honestly, I’m still pissed at you, Chloe Aiken, for tearing my ass up and taking his side.”

“Yeah, well, worked, didn’t it?” She grabs my hand. “Huh, it really is kinda green.”

I snatch my hand away. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you. Maybe I knew you wouldn’t see the beauty in her.”

“That must have been one hell of an interpretive dance.” Chloe giggles.

“Her?”

Apparently, Whit’s here, too.

I open my eyes and sit up. “Shouldn’t you all be at the game?”

“Left at the top of the fourth. They’re ahead by four runs. They’ll win.” Whit sits on the other side of me. “Let me see that ring before I check you over.”

I hold out my hand. “She has a story.”

“I bet she does.” Whit smiles.

I narrow my eyes at her and pull my hand away. “Mama June gave this to Theresa on her deathbed and made her promise to give it to Leland when he proposed to me.”

When I look up from it, they’re looking at me like I have three heads.

“What?”

Chloe waves me off like I’m not even here and looks at Whitley. “She’s going to be the world’s bitchiest bride.”

“Ultimate Bridezilla,” Whit agrees.

“You bitches use GPS to get here?” I lie back down and pull a pillow over my face. “Feel free to use it on your way out.”

“Oh, we’re not leaving; we’re staying the night,” Chloe says. “Your matron of honors are here, and we have a wedding to plan.”

“Marks!” I yell.

“Oh my God, she is such a diva.” Whitley laughs.

“Calling for the help.” Chloe falls back laughing when I whack her in the head with a pillow.

“Everything okay?” he calls as I smack Whitley, too.

“How did they get in?” I can’t help but laugh.

“Don’t let her start bossing you around. New monied bitch.” Chloe snorts.

“New monied?” Marks asks. “She’s got?—”

“Shut it down, Marks.”

“Oh no, what does that mean?” Whit asks.

Fuck it.

“Means I get five million if I’m married before I turn thirty-five.”

“Don’t you dare take that boy’s money and break his heart, Gwen York!”

“Ew, yeah, don’t do that.” Whitley scrunches up her nose.

Oh, these bitches,I laugh to myself and decide to play along.

“You two are going to think less of me if I take his money? Would that makes me a whore in your eyes?”

“That man is in love with you and has been for years. You love him, too; it’s so obvious.” Chloe shakes her head. “Don’t make him pay you to?—”

“Nope, can’t do it,” I think out loud.

“Have you considered what that will do to that kind of love?” Whit shakes her head. “Eventually?—”

“My sack of shit father’s family is loaded,” I blurt out, unable to take anymore. “I have a trust that pays out if I get married before I’m thirty-five.”

“How do all my besties have rich sacks of shit dads?” Whitley asks, totally bent as she looks between us.

Then something else hits me. “Victims’ rights.” I scoot to the end of the bed. “Marks, victims?—”

“On it,” he says and turns to exit.

“What’s going on?” Chloe asks.

“We’ve been trying to figure out how to dole out the reward money for William and Janice’s arrests.”

“Reward money?” Chloe asks, following me out of the room.

“Our guy in California, Lawson, somehow managed to push for a reward from the state for the two fugitives.” I lean over Mark’s shoulder as he taps on his keyboard. “Long story short, we got them both. It covers Lawson ten percent for making it happen—all our hires, equipment, and taxes that need to be paid on the reward money. After all that, it leaves enough to give to you, Chloe, and not Cora’s father, who allowed himself to think with his dick.”

“Don’t be so fucking harsh, York,” Marks mumbles, and Chloe looks confused, which I totally understand.

“The money? To replenish Cora’s education fund. She can go to Rutgers.”

Marks adds, “There’s fifty G’s after that. I want to give it to Joe and?—”

“And I think he should learn a fucking lesson,” I cut him off.

Rolling his eyes, he looks at Chloe. “We decided that was your call. Another option for you and CeCe to split the?—”

“Why is it my call?” Chloe interrupts. “I didn’t get fucking shot or put in jail. No, that’s your reward.”

“This whole thing has been about keeping the people we love safe, not money. We’re good. And after I marry my player, we’ll be able to be everywhere all at once.”

“Coast to coast.” Marks and I tap fists.

“Gotta ask: does your player know?”

“Pfft, yeah, he knows.” I watch Chloe and Whit exchange glances. “Oh my God, fine, you need to hear it? I, Gwendolyn York, love Leland Locke and sometimes hate his stupid perfect face.”

They both squeal and quickly shut down what I know is coming next.

“I, Gwendolyn York, also do not want a big, flashy wedding. Tuxes don’t do it for me. I’d take Locke in sweats, wearing his number on a fitted shirt and a backward baseball cap any day of the week. And let’s be honest, a big poofy white dress that screams a big fat lie isn’t me.”

“Lie?”

I lean in and whisper, “I’m not a virgin.”

“Was he your first?” Whit asks.

“Never been into sharing that kind of information with anyone.” I look between them and sigh. “But I never had friends like you two, so I’ll share. He was my first, and I was his.”

“And you love him.”

“Yeah”—my eyes heat up—“and I love the way he loves me.”

“Um, hello,” Marks pipes in. “We start talking dicks, and I’m out.”

“Massive and pierced.” I wink at the girls.

“The fuck, York,” Marks snarls.

“Look, you’re going to be my best man, so you’re going to have to be included in these kinds of talks.”

“Goddammit, York,” he sighs.

“Don’t start sniveling. Get those fingers clacking on the keyboard. Victims’ rights, remember?”

“Way ahead of you. Property records show he still owns the California house, and tax records say”—he turns and looks at Chloe—“it’s worth at least three million.”

“Wait—you’re saying William still owns that house?”

“Sure am. I’m guessing he also has money in the bank that’s been used to pay property taxes all those years he was locked up.”

“If we can’t do victims’ right, you can bring a civil suit against him and force the sale.”

She nods. “Yeah.”

I take her hand. “But?”

She shrugs. “I was just wondering if any of Mom’s things are still there. The things I couldn’t sneak out and sell. Pictures of her and us, you know.”

“You want access, we’ll get it.” I squeeze her hand.

Her eyes fill with tears. “The world’s gonna know everything, anyway, I suppose.”

“You were minors.” Marks closes the laptop and stands.

“They’re not anymore.” Lightbulb moment. “I’ll sue. Might not get as much, but you and CeCe would have something at least. And, more importantly, that’s a kick to the balls of the piece of shit who still thinks he’s above the law.” I turn to Marks. “You good with that?”

“Publicity you couldn’t pay for? Yeah, sure am.”

“Chloe, you have time to decide. We’re down for whatever.”

“Even getting shot.” She wipes away a tear. “Today wasn’t about him. Today was about you, and Leland, and love.”

“So we get back on track.” Whit takes her other hand.

Chloe perks up a bit. “We have a wedding to plan.”

“I have until August. Let’s?—”

“No fucking way,” Marks grumbles. “Get the I do’s done before she changes her damn mind.”

“It’s pop the bubbly and toast to the newly engaged.” Chloe smiles as she moves toward the basket on the island.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Not sure I should be drinking while on pain meds.”

“Which is why we brought sparkling cider,” Whitley states as she heads that way.

Perfect, I think as I head over.

“Red”—Chloe shakes the bottle in her right hand—“or white?”

“I think I deserve a glass of each.” I laugh.

***

After I realized that they weren’t joking—they were actually spending the night, and so were their husbands and even the boys, to celebrate us and also give CeCe and Rome some much-needed alone time—I decide to take a nap, knowing it’s going to be a later night than usual.

But first, we do a house tour, they pick out their rooms, and I send Locke a text.

Me

Caught the end of the game. Killed it again. Going to rest a bit. Wake me up when you get here.

Locke

Thanks, sugar. Appreciate it, but I was expecting a little something different.

Smiling, I hit him back.

Me

That’s my player.

Locke

And that’s my girl. Nailed it. How shall I wake you? Hands, tongue, or dick?

Smiling like a loon, I reply.

Me

You choose.

Locke

That’s my good girl.

Good girl. It’s a definite turn-on. One I struggled with.

Some could say it’s daddy issues … but it’s not.

I don’t have daddy issues. I understand my father. He’s neatly filed away under “entitled, self-centered, and self-important.” There he sits, not bothering me in the least until I allow myself a trip down memory lane, and then I want to punch him, but not for attention. Simply because he needs to be punched. He actually has one of those faces, all pinched and judgmental, the kind that begs to have a fist thrown at it.

I didn’t lack approval growing up. Mom may have been busy with two jobs, but I knew she loved me, and she showed up for me. I didn’t need more than that. I didn’t want anything more than Mom, good food, a good book, an occasional puzzle, and a day we could veg.

Good girlfrom Locke is a tease, a prelude to foreplay resulting in sock-rocking orgasms, which is a precursor to being fucked so good that my orgasms produce aftershocks, and lying there, catching my breath, is the only thing I can do, and I do this while he lays on me, inside me or beside me, with a lazy smile, just as fucked up on post-orgasmic bliss as I am.

So, good girl equals a really good night.

That’s why I have set an alarm to wake me in an hour. I won’t leave this bed after that, and that’s rude when you have company.

***

When he walks into the bathroom, I’m standing at the sink, looking in the mirror and pressing concealer onto my face with a brand-new beauty blender, compliments of Chloe and Whit’s engagement gift basket, to cover the scratches on the side of my face.

I lean into the mirror and rub my lips together, evening out the thin layer of gloss while fluffing my hair a bit before turning to face him.

My palm flat on his crisp, tailored, and perfectly pressed Tom Ford shirt, I tell him, “I was just thinking that we should do all that you have planned after we act like good hosts and hostesses.

“Is that what you were thinking?” he asks, looking my face over.

“Sure was.” I reach up and push the deep navy Ralph Lauren blazer over his shoulder.

After taking it off him, I put it on a hanger, place the hanger on a hook, and walk over to stand between him and the sink.

“That day we were here, waiting on you to get back from the game, I snooped in your closet.”

“Not snooping when it’s your Jersey home, too,” he groans when I start unbuckling his belt.

“Imagine how confused I was to find Gucci belts, Tom Ford shirts, Ralph Lauren blazers, and dress pants from those same designers.

“Tom’s my go-to. Ralph’s a good choice, as well.”

“Brunello Cucinelli? I had to google that one. Nine-hundred-dollar tee-shirts?”

His lips twist up. “Bruno’s worth it. You’ll sleep in one of those tees tonight and be on board.”

“And I’ll introduce you to Hanes tag-less.”

“Tag-less, huh?”

“Oh yeah, you’ll be all like, Bruno who?”

“Yeah?” He smirks as I pull the brown leather belt from the loops and set it on the countertop behind me.

“Ferragamo loafers and a watch collection that’s mind-blowing.”

“Sexy, isn’t it?” He smiles.

I pop the button on his pants. “The Leland Locke I knew, his tastes have changed.”

“Not so much,” he says, staring at my mouth.

Licking my lips, I unzip his pants and slowly push them down, and do so squatting down in front of him.

“Fuck.”

On my knees, I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and look up. Sure enough, he’s holding his breath, and he stays that way until I use my teeth to tug at the end of his piercing.

He sucks a breath between his teeth, and I do it again.

His voice is gravel as he says, “What do you think?”

I lick the precum coating his slit, and his cock twitches. “Even better.”

Gripping him more firmly, I begin to stroke him as I suck. His hand skates up the back of my neck, and his fingers tangle in my hair.

“Just like that … Just fucking like that.” He thrusts into my mouth, but never enough to gag me, so I take him deeper, feeling him against the back of my throat, uncaring as my eyes start to water and drool drips down my chin. He wipes it up with his finger, brings it to his mouth, and sucks it off. His nostrils flare. “Bad girl.”

Mouth full, I nod and suck down up the length of him, tongue flat against the bulging veins on the underside, and all the way up to wrap my lips around the broad head and suck harder.

I love the taste of his skin, the feel of him in my mouth, no matter how deep, and I crave his cum.

I lick his thick, hard, beautiful cock before tugging at the piercing and do it watching his jaw tighten and his eyes … his gorgeous green eyes grow heavier and wilder.

I crave that look, too—his undoing, his lust, want, desire, and need for me.

I continue sucking faster, taking him deeper, gagging myself, and it feels so damn good.

“You keep that up,” he hisses as his head hits the back of my throat and continues as I suck down his length, “you may stop real soon, or I’m gonna fill your beautiful fucking mouth.” I grip him harder, stroke him faster, and then take him again, all the way to the back of my throat. “Gonna swallow every fucking drop.”

I do not relent. I suck, and lick, and stroke until my name comes out in beautiful breaks between groans and growls.

His first burst of hot cum hits the back of my throat, and I swallow quickly, continuing to suck and pump him. The next hits, and I swallow that, too, and then the third.

“Fuck,” he says softer. “Jesus, Gwendolyn.”

I continue stroking him, slowing as I trace the silver barbell with my tongue while watching his chest rise and fall beneath his stupidly expensive button-down.

He grips my hand, stopping my movement, and then pulls me up to stand, cups the side of my face, and pulls my head to his chest, where I can hear his heart beating wildly beneath his hard chest. Lips to the top of my head, he whispers, “You have no idea how fucking much I love you.”

“You’re wrong, because I love you just as much.”