Right
Page 45
Concern flickers across his eyes and he frowns, looking away. “There is something I should tell you.”
My eyes widen to saucers. I knew it. My mind races with possibilities—drugs? Arrest record? Wife?—before I spit out an apprehensive, “What?”
“The thing is,” he starts, dragging his eyes back to mine, “depending on the market, I’m not technically a billionaire. Most days my net worth is still in the millionaire category.”
“Oh, my God. You’re an idiot.” I groan and laugh, flopping back onto the bed.
“Honestly, the money is a hassle most of the time.”
“A hassle?”
“Draws more attention than I’m interested in, truthfully.” He rubs his forehead. “Investors, media, security.” He drops his hand. “I’m not interested in being a Wikipedia page, you know?”
I nod. I can understand that.
“And my future children, I already wonder if I’m going to have to send them to the playground with security. Shit, I know I will. They’ll be worth too much. Do you want children, Everly?”
“I do,” I say carefully. “Of course I do. But I’m twenty-two. I want them in the future, and not the three- to five-year future, but the five- to seven-year future. I want to be settled first.”
“Settled how?”
I take a sip of soda and think about how to explain it. “I want to be married for one. I want a wedding that is about us as a couple, and not timed around a baby bump.”
He nods for me to continue.
“My parents are really happy, you know? And I want that for my children. I want to bring them into a secure relationship and I know there are no guarantees in life, I do. But I can make the right choices now to set the odds in my favor. Most of my friends’ parents were divorced or miserable. Everyone had all these half-siblings and step-siblings and depending on custody weekends, sometimes the only time they saw each other was at school. It was hard.”
“Life isn’t always that neat, Everly.”
“I know. I do. But I can at least try to get it right.”
“We will,” he says, then stands and carries the breakfast tray out of the bedroom. I flop back and stare at the tray ceiling over the bed while I mull over his words. We will. I hear the water start in the adjoining bath, and then he’s back asking if I’m ready for a shower.
“Nice place you’ve got here, by the way.”
He looks around, shrugs. “It’s convenient.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be one of those girls.”
“Which girls?” He’s confused.
“You know, one of those girls who throw a fit because you’ve had sex on this mattress before? Then demand you get rid of it and bring in a virgin mattress for us to fuck on?”
“Is that an actual thing?”
“Oh, it’s a thing. Chicks do it.”
He wraps a hand around my ankle and drags my bottom to the edge of the bed, causing me to yelp. “I think we’ve already determined that you’re not like most chicks, Boots.” He scoops me up to carry me to the bathroom.
“Hey!”
“Problem?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I just realized you were joking last night about sex tapes being your kink.”
“And you’re disappointed?”
“A little bit,” I admit, holding up my finger and thumb an inch apart.
He’s still laughing at me when he walks me into the most perfect walk-in shower ever. All thoughts of sex tapes are gone about a minute after that.
Thirty
“So you’re dating Sawyer, not Finn?” Sophie asks, her nose wrinkled in confusion.
My eyes widen to saucers. I knew it. My mind races with possibilities—drugs? Arrest record? Wife?—before I spit out an apprehensive, “What?”
“The thing is,” he starts, dragging his eyes back to mine, “depending on the market, I’m not technically a billionaire. Most days my net worth is still in the millionaire category.”
“Oh, my God. You’re an idiot.” I groan and laugh, flopping back onto the bed.
“Honestly, the money is a hassle most of the time.”
“A hassle?”
“Draws more attention than I’m interested in, truthfully.” He rubs his forehead. “Investors, media, security.” He drops his hand. “I’m not interested in being a Wikipedia page, you know?”
I nod. I can understand that.
“And my future children, I already wonder if I’m going to have to send them to the playground with security. Shit, I know I will. They’ll be worth too much. Do you want children, Everly?”
“I do,” I say carefully. “Of course I do. But I’m twenty-two. I want them in the future, and not the three- to five-year future, but the five- to seven-year future. I want to be settled first.”
“Settled how?”
I take a sip of soda and think about how to explain it. “I want to be married for one. I want a wedding that is about us as a couple, and not timed around a baby bump.”
He nods for me to continue.
“My parents are really happy, you know? And I want that for my children. I want to bring them into a secure relationship and I know there are no guarantees in life, I do. But I can make the right choices now to set the odds in my favor. Most of my friends’ parents were divorced or miserable. Everyone had all these half-siblings and step-siblings and depending on custody weekends, sometimes the only time they saw each other was at school. It was hard.”
“Life isn’t always that neat, Everly.”
“I know. I do. But I can at least try to get it right.”
“We will,” he says, then stands and carries the breakfast tray out of the bedroom. I flop back and stare at the tray ceiling over the bed while I mull over his words. We will. I hear the water start in the adjoining bath, and then he’s back asking if I’m ready for a shower.
“Nice place you’ve got here, by the way.”
He looks around, shrugs. “It’s convenient.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be one of those girls.”
“Which girls?” He’s confused.
“You know, one of those girls who throw a fit because you’ve had sex on this mattress before? Then demand you get rid of it and bring in a virgin mattress for us to fuck on?”
“Is that an actual thing?”
“Oh, it’s a thing. Chicks do it.”
He wraps a hand around my ankle and drags my bottom to the edge of the bed, causing me to yelp. “I think we’ve already determined that you’re not like most chicks, Boots.” He scoops me up to carry me to the bathroom.
“Hey!”
“Problem?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I just realized you were joking last night about sex tapes being your kink.”
“And you’re disappointed?”
“A little bit,” I admit, holding up my finger and thumb an inch apart.
He’s still laughing at me when he walks me into the most perfect walk-in shower ever. All thoughts of sex tapes are gone about a minute after that.
Thirty
“So you’re dating Sawyer, not Finn?” Sophie asks, her nose wrinkled in confusion.
