#TripleX (34 page)

“You really have a way with words, ya know that?” he said, smiling. I kissed his nose, like I always do. “By the way, since you walked into that restaurant, I’ve been hard as Hell. It kind of died off there for a bit when you were talking about… that douchebag, but once you sat on my lap, it’s wide awake all over again.”

“I can tell.” I winked, wiggling my ass on him.

“Think Chris would be mad if you stayed with me tonight?” he asked, squeezing my ass.

“Uhhh no, I think she and I need a break from each other. I feel like I’ve been stuck by her side for entirely too long. I’ll shoot her ass if I have to spend one more night with her,” I admitted. “Hell, I can’t even stand you and the kids for three months straight, how did I expect to stand some stranger for that long?”

“You said it. Not me,” Matt said, smiling and nuzzling my ear. “By the way, I dropped out of the golf leagues and signed you and I up for a co-ed softball team for the fall. From now on, you and me—nobody else.”

“Now, don’t get too carried away. I know I bitched about being a golf widow, but I like that we have our own things,” I said, tracing my finger along his ear. “It’s good for us. Plus, I get a ton of writing done when you’re out golfing.”

“And Ang, I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t really mean it. I love that you’re a writer and that you went after your dreams. It makes me so damn proud of you. There’s nothing you can’t do. You’re amazing. If I could, I’d marry you all over again.”

My eyes widened.

My heart warmed.

My excitement exploded.

“Oh my God, you are
so
going to marry me all over again!” I squealed, jumping up and pulling him up with me.

“Lou, we can do this without her,” Matt said, checking his phone for the time again.

“I am not getting married without her standing right next me,” I snarled, pacing back and forth. “Where the Hell is she anyway? I told her to be here twenty minutes ago.”

“Maybe she went to the Rock n Roll Wedding Chapel instead. I can’t believe you didn’t want KISS to renew our vows. That would’ve been incredible—”

“Really? You think KISS is better than Elvis? You can’t possibly be serious? We’re in Vegas. Elvis is the shit—the king around here! Plus, we got married at the Graceland Chapel the first time.”

Just then, a limousine pulled up and a very disheveled Christine stumbled out of the car, looking like a two-bit whore from Freemont Street. After she nearly fell to the ground, my brother followed her out of the car, smirking wildly. Holy fuck a cat. Jake was here! Jake. My brother was going to kill me with his bare hands, strangle me in front of everyone for defiling his beloved Jag. Matt and Christine were about to watch as my brother murdered me in cold blood—

Wait a minute! Why were Chris and Jake together? Why did she look so… so… used?

“Christine Renee Zolendz, what in the name of fucking friendship are you doing in the back of a limo with my brother?” I screamed, feeling like the explosive volcano at the Mirage.

Standing in front of Christine, my brother cut me off, “Do you have any right to be yelling at anyone? You know I’m going to have you arrested for Grand Theft Auto, don’t you?”

Christine started laughing, sitting down on the cement ledge out front of the chapel. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that teensy-weensy little bit of info,” she squealed. I immediately followed in her laughter.

“I kind of thought you’d want to kill me, so I figured it’d be better if we made sure the story ended rather hysterically,” I said, hiding behind Matt. He wrapped his arm around his back and held my hand. It felt comforting and perfect. “I mean, why not make the story way more interesting—especially if you know you’re going to be in deep shit anyway?”

“Oh God, Ang, what did you do?” Matt asked, chuckling, knowing it couldn’t be good if I was hiding and Christine was doubled over in laughter.

“She left the Jag running, with the keys in the ignition last night by the curb on Freemont Street. It seriously only took three minutes for it to get stolen,” Christine laughed. “You should’ve seen how fast those thieves tore out of there.”

“What? How could you? Are you trying to bankrupt me?” Jake asked, shaking his head, running his hands through his hair.

“Listen here, Thirty-Mill, you can just go hit up a Jag vending machine or something at one of those millionaire theme parks I’m sure they have over on Rodeo Drive in California or somewhere the common folk aren’t allowed to visit—”

“Millionaire theme parks? Damn Ang, you’re more creative than I am,” Christine joked, approaching Jake. “But seriously Jake, let it go. You know you can buy a new one tomorrow. If our little excursion helped get your little sister back from the depressing doldrums of middle-age and cellulite, isn’t it kind of worth it? Your car saved your sister.”

Jake rolled his eyes, mumbled a “fine,” and walked toward the chapel.

“Hold on,” I yelled, stopping him. I looked back and forth between the two of them, eyeing them suspiciously. “What the fuck are you two doing together, anyway?”

Jake turned around, his eyes twinkling with the devil-red sparkle of evil revenge that only a sibling can spot. “Chris? Me? Well God, Ang, we’ve been friends forever now—a good three months, I think.” Christine’s eyes widened. “You should see what she just wrote about me—about us. Damn, it was hot. That chick can write.”

Looking over at Christine, I saw it all. Her hair. Her face. Her clothes. The wild eyes said it all. “Holy Hell! Chris, you were writing!” I squealed, running over to her, tugging on her bag. “Let me read it. What’d you write? I’m so glad your cheating bastard block is gone!”

“Nothing,” she grumbled, tugging the bag back, glaring at Jake. “I didn’t write anything.” She was blatantly lying to me—right to my face.

“Let her read it. It was really good. Not as good as Kade and Sam, but good nonetheless,” Jake smirked.

Turning slowly, I glared at Jake. “Kade and Sam? You… you read Chris’ book? You read
Brutally Beautifully
?”

“And
Cold-Blooded Beautiful
,” Jake confirmed, smiling widely and triumphantly. “She writes
really
well. I haven’t gotten to the angel stories yet though—”

I launched myself at my brother, ready to rip out his eyes. Mr. I-Don’t-Have-Time-To-Read. Mr. I-Don’t-Need-Or-Want-To-Read-Your-Smut-Books was reading someone else’s smut books? Matt caught me (caught me!) before I could accost my brother and gouge out his other author-reading eyes. “How could you?”

“Well shit Ang, when the writing is
that
good, it’s hard not to. Then when she started
sharing
what she was writing with me, I couldn’t possibly stop reading. She takes advice and criticism so well,” he added, chuckling arrogantly. “We left the bar, and she just attacked that keyboard—like it was her bitch. It was amazing. I watched as she just violated the keys and fucked them all up.”

I stilled, envy and anger rushing through my veins.

Slowly turning toward to Christine, I walked deliberately and carefully, closing in on her.

“You? You let my brother…
my brother
… read something you wrote, before… before I did?” I asked, glaring at Chris. “How… how could you guys
do
this to me?”

“Ang, I was going to show you—I always do. I knew you were with Matt. I didn’t want to bother you—”

“After all the time Chris and I spent talking and getting to know one another—”

“Shut up Jake, I don’t care about that shit. Talk to Chris all you want. She’s great. You should talk to her. She’s way better than those skanky, brainless bimbos you typically frequent on a day that ends in ‘Y’,” I commented, honestly. “But you shouldn’t read
her
books before you read
mine
,” I whined, folding my arms, petulantly.

“Told ya before, I’m never reading
your
books,” Jake replied, imitating my stance. There was the good old Ryan Pigheadedness that ran so rampantly through our blood.

“And you,” I said, turning back to Chris, “nobody reads before I read. Nobody!”

“Well,” Chris said, hemming and hawing. “He’s got great ideas… and… and he’s a guy. There’s a better perspective there—a perspective you don’t have.”

My jaw dropped.

My eyes squinted.

I felt my nostrils flaring. In no time, I’d be scuffing my foot on the ground, raging like a bull.

“Screw you… and you…” I said to both of them, storming away from them and back to my husband. “I’m getting married. Come on Matt, let’s go see Elvis before these two put me in ‘Heartbreak Hotel’.” I grumbled, walking into the Graceland Chapel. Stopping, I walked back out and yelled, “Let’s go… Matt needs a best dickhead, and I need a bitch-of-honor, so get your asses in gear.”

“By the power and the glory infested in my blue suede shoes,” Elvis said.

“Did he just say ‘infested?’ For real?” Christine whispered. “I don’t want anything infested in my shoes.”

“Shut up! I’m getting married here,” I said, giggling.

“I have something I’d like to say first,” Matt stated, surprising all of us.

“Of course,” Elvis said, “Men like you can’t help falling in love,” right before he began singing his rendition of “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You.”

“Dude, let it go. My man here wants to say something,” Jake said, cutting off Elvis’ off-key serenade.

“Angelisa, I lost sight of what’s important. I really did. I let life… work… the kids… everything get in the way. I’m sorry,” Matt said, pulling me close to him. “And nothing… not one thing in this entire world is more important than you… than us.” Matt reached up and wiped a tear off my cheek. “I want you to know that every single second of our life… our marriage… together… has meant the world to me. I promise you from here on out, that I will never—never lose sight of it again.”

Elvis began singing “Love Me Tender.”

Matt cut him off again.

“I know you feel guilty for what happened in New Mexico with Greg—”

Christine coughed. I turned and glared at her. She dropped her head, looking away.

Matt continued, “But I have to admit, I feel guilty about it too. You should never have tried to find your self-worth or desirability in someone else’s—”

Christine cleared her throat.

Jake interrupted, “Not your marriage, Chris, let it go.”

“—in someone else’s arms. I should’ve made sure that you knew, you
know
, just how gorgeous and perfect you are. Jesus, Ang, I could get lost in how beautiful your eyes are, and your smile… your smile… makes everything that goes wrong at work or with the kids just vanish. Nothing else matters when I see your smile,” he admitted, his eyes tearing up. “Everything about you is everything I ever wanted. You should never doubt how much I love you, how much I need you—or my God, how much I thank my lucky stars every fucking day that I found you. And Ang, I’m going to make sure you never—ever—doubt it again.”

I wrapped my arms around my husband and knew that this time nothing was ever going to threaten the life we worked so hard to build together. Marriage was tough. But Matt and I were tougher. We could take on whatever life threw at us and come out on the other side a little worn, a little scratched and bruised, but stronger and closer than ever. We were a team, a team that battled and fought, but that would always come out victorious in the end. Nobody ever said marriage was easy. But nobody ever said being alone was easier, either.

Some marriages were meant to fight and win.

Others weren’t.

People grow. People change. Love grows and changes. Sometimes not together. Sometimes closer than ever. Luckily, Matt and I found a way to grow, to change, and to come back together in a way that made sense—perfect, beautiful sense.

In the end, what mattered the most was if you were happy. Looking at my husband, I was never happier. Could never be happier. Matt was my happy. My forever. My infinity. I was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

Leaving the chapel, all four of us in our new blue suede shoes, compliments of Jake, of course, we decided that a celebration of alcohol, debauchery, and gambling in Vegas were in order. And the party couldn’t begin fast enough. There was so much to celebrate.