A perfect match.
That’s what she needed.
The odds of that happening were slim.
But I wanted her to try. It was stupid. I mean, I barely knew her, but the thought of her just… giving up? It destroyed me.
I quickly made a call — one I wasn’t sure I was going to regret come morning.
She could never find out.
If she did, I’d be the one dead.
But maybe, even if it meant I died — it would be worth it. She’d been right before, when she said it was a two-twirl dress. She’d been gorgeous on her wedding day, and she deserved more than one twirl.
She deserved a hundred.
A thousand.
The least I could do was try to get her to that place where she could run without getting dizzy. Where she could twirl and truly experience life.
My fingers slid across the numbers on the screen.
“Yeah?” Tex barked into the phone. “How’s our girl?”
“My girl’s fine.” I sighed. “Look, I need a favor.”
“I’m not killing the doctors. They’re the best money can buy and—”
“Not that kind of favor.”
Tex paused. “This surprises me. Okay, you have my attention.”
When I was done explaining, I was met with complete silence. I started to break out into a cold sweat.
“No promises,” he finally croaked out. The line went dead.
Andi was discharged two days later. The doctors wanted to make sure she didn’t have an infection. It turned out she’d just had a minor case of walking pneumonia. Though any sickness could potentially kill her — they’d given us the green light.
And she was back to her chipper ways.
Which included waking me up at dawn with her bat and pan.
And then singing at the top of her lungs while making eggs with extra ketchup… the ketchup she said represented blood, and, since I’d killed so many people, she wanted to remind me of my sins every day.
Her words. Not mine.
I continued holding her hand whenever she asked me to, and honestly, each time our fingers touched, it felt more and more like I was losing a part of myself.
I knew she was getting bored; you couldn’t simply keep a girl like Andi cooped up in a house, but it terrified me that she would get sicker if we went somewhere, and as much as I hated to admit my own terror, well, there it was.
Finally after five days at home, something gave.
It happened when I was in the shower — because naturally Andi didn’t do anything like a normal human being; her timing was always off, her ideas harebrained.
I was just putting shampoo in my hair when the door to the bathroom opened.
“Hey, sailor,” Andi called.
“What the—” I dropped the shampoo onto my foot and turned. I wasn’t in one of those showers, you know, the types that hid every part of you.
I lived in a freaking mansion. My shower was glass on every side and gave the impression that I was in a monsoon rather than a bathroom.
“Andi?” I licked my lips, not bothering to cover myself up. “Can this wait until I’m out of the shower.”
“Nope.” She heaved herself up onto the counter and smiled. “You’re more vulnerable this way.”
“No shit,” I muttered then grabbed some body wash and continued trying to shower while her eyes drank me in.
“So…” She yawned.
I was slightly offended at her reaction. Could she at least stare wide-eyed and in absolute wonderment?
The woman did amazing things to my ego.
“I was thinking.”
“That’s unfortunate for me.” I faced her again. “So? What were you thinking, Andi?”
“You like holding my hand.”
I quickly turned back around lest she see the effect even thinking about holding her hand had on my body. “Yeah?” I croaked out. “So?”
“So, you like spending time with me even if you won’t admit it.”
“Get there faster, Andi.”
“The list,” Andi called out. “I think we should do some list-like activities. I wrote down all the honeymoon things I’d want to do if we were able to leave the country without going to prison.”
I sighed. “Andi, we wouldn’t go to prison.”
“I would die in prison. I’m too pretty.”
“And I’m what? The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”
I met her gaze again.
She tilted her head. A small smile formed across her lips. “You do have horrible posture.”
“Do not,” I argued, straightening my back.
“Do too.” Her grin widened. “You’ll probably be one of those crotchety old men that can’t look past a woman’s breasts because he can’t lift his head. I can see it now. ‘Bring me more pasta!’”
“Wait, what?” I turned off the shower. “Why am I yelling for pasta?”
She shrugged. “Just seems like something your grumpy ass would say.”
“Your opinion of me needs work.”
“Maybe you should be nicer, and my opinion would be higher.”
“I bought you ice cream.”
“After yelling at me.” She tossed me a white fluffy towel then pointed at my side tattoo. “Hey, what’s that?”
I slapped her hand away and turned so she couldn’t see the markings then wrapped the towel around my waist. “Okay, so you want to… what? Have sex fifteen times?”
She was still trying to peer around me. “I wrote it fifteen times because I figured we’d be on a honeymoon for seven days — that’s sex twice a day plus a bonus round.”
I walked past her, steam billowing off my body. “Sweetheart, you don’t plan sex.”
“Well…” She crossed her arms. “…I do.”
I leaned against the countertop. “So that’s it? You’re propositioning me?”
“Nope, I picked out a few other things on the list.” She slid it across the granite counter and leaned her hip next to my body. “Read.”
“So demanding.”
“I’ll go get my pot and wood stick.”
“Reading,” I grumbled.
“Pet a giraffe?” I said aloud. “What the hell?”
Andi shrugged and examined her fingers. “Sergio, if we were going on an African safari, I’d get to see a damn giraffe.”
“And you want to see a giraffe because?”
“They’re tall.”
I fought for control over my temper. “That’s it? Because they’re tall?”
She nodded.
“Fine, can we just paint Tex to look like a giraffe and give you a paintball gun so it’s like a real safari?”
Andi tapped her chin. “That may work. Hey, you’re useful after all!”
I kept reading. “I hate hippos.”
“Well, that’s unfair.” Andi started wiping off the mirror with a fresh towel then tossed me my deodorant. “Have you ever even met a hippo?”
“If I had, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“Oh, please,” She waved me off. “You’d be fine, flesh wound, nothing more.”
“They drown people!” My voice rose an octave. “Because they can!”
“Details.”
I huffed while I applied the deodorant, then tossed it back at her and walked toward my large closet.
“Next!” She clapped her hands and shoved past me into the closet and began frantically looking through my designer jeans.
I paused and looked at the honeymoon wish list. “Sharks? You want to swim with sharks?”
She nodded but didn’t turn around; instead, a pair of jeans went flying through the air, nearly hitting me in the face.
I caught them just in time. “How about I take you fishing, and we can pretend there are sharks, or better yet, I get a blow-up shark toy and put it in the pool out back?”
“Hmm…” A sweater sailed over my head. “…I may agree to those terms as long as you put on the Jaws theme song.”
&nb
sp; “I’ll hum it.”
She stood to her full height and laughed. “Such a good sport.”
“Right. That’s what I’m being — a good sport. I figure if I don’t at least try to make you happy, you’re going to make my life hell then shoot me in my sleep.”
“The idea has merit.”
“See?”
“Wear those.” She pointed to the clothes she’d tossed onto the floor. “And I really like the new boots you bought online a few days ago.”
“You read my mail, don’t you?”
“Can I have a credit card with no limit?” she asked, ignoring my question but actually answering it, considering she’d probably seen my credit card statement.
“Sure… can you stop waking me up with your pot-and-pan trick?”
“Ohh… he drives a tough bargain.”
“I’ll give if you do.” I picked the clothes off the floor and approached her. “What do you say?”
“I say…” She eyed the list in my hand. “…give me one thing on the list today, and you have a deal.”
I glanced back down at the list. She wanted to go on a foxhunt, whatever the hell that was. An idea popped into my head. “Fine, go change into something you can move in.”
“Really?” She squealed.
Her excitement was this tangible real thing, almost like I could taste it in the air. I fought to keep myself from catching her enthusiasm. “Really.”
“You’re the best husband ever!” Her hand reached for my towel. She tugged. The towel fell.
I scowled but had nothing to hide.
Her hand moved to my hip, and then her fingertips grazed my abs. “You sure you don’t want to work on those other fifteen options?”
My body said yes.
Her eyebrows arched in… ah, there it was, not necessarily wonderment, but I could tell she was at least semi-impressed by the way she licked her lips.
My body was on board, but every other part of me said no — that it would be the final straw, that I’d fall and have no hope of ever being the same again. I took a step back.
She pouted, but her eyes drank their fill. “Fine, but one day I’m going to stop asking, and where’s that going to leave you?”
“Rhetorical question?”
“Food for thought.” She winked. “I’m going to get ready. Hurry up! Don’t want to be late for our first adventure.”
She skipped out of the room.
Leaving me in silence, in my giant closet.
Her presence was like the sun, making everything seem brighter, happier. I hadn’t realized until that day how boring and dark my life had become.
But that was what happened when you actually experienced life through someone else; you realized what you’ve been doing wasn’t living, but existing.
And I had a sinking feeling that my existence would miss hers even now… after only knowing her for a week.
It was a scary thought.
Terrifying actually, to imagine a world where people like Andi — where Andi herself — didn’t exist.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Andi
I LOOKED UP AT THE HUGE BUILDING and grinned. “You, my dear husband, are a brilliant, scary man.”
Sergio gripped my hand tighter. I let out a breathy sigh because, well, he was wearing the tight jeans I’d picked out for him and the black long-sleeved sweater that hugged every single muscle he possessed.
It helped that he’d finished the look with a pair of D&G aviators.
They should be illegal on a guy that sexy.
He looked like a walking sexy-man commercial. You know, if those existed.
“You ready to do this?” He released my hand and moved his fingertips to the small of my back. “I mean, if you’re scared we can go back.”
I took a deep breath. “But we’re already here.”
“True.”
“And it’s important that I face my fears.”
“Also true.” He chuckled. “So what will it be, little Russia? You gonna run home with your tail between your legs? Or are you gonna play?”
“I may get hurt.”
“Yup.”
“You could get hurt.”
“Yup.”
“We could die trying.”
“Yup.”
“Are you just going to keep saying yup?”
He paused then shrugged. “Yup.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, we’re doing this.”
He checked his watch. “We’ve got two hours to burn before family dinner.”
“And if we show up all bloody and sweaty?”
Sergio took off his sunglasses and winked. “It’s family dinner. How else do you think we show up? Holding hands and singing ‘Kumbaya?’”
“Valid point.”
“You first.” He gently pushed me forward.
“But—”
“Come on, Andi,” He tugged my body back against his ripped stomach. “Where’s your sense of adventure, oh hippo trainer?”
“I said I wanted to meet a hippo not train one.”
“Chickening out?”
“No.” I kept staring at the entrance to the building. “Okay, fine. But how is this even possible if I’ve never been trained?”
Sergio gripped my hand again. “You haven’t been trained. I have.” With that, he tugged me toward the door.
I tried to dig my heels into the cement. It didn’t work.
Fifteen minutes later, I was signing a consent form that basically said if I died, I couldn’t sue the company.
I felt the need to point out that if I was dead, I wouldn’t be able to sue in the first place.
Sergio coughed up a laugh then slid our papers forward to the old man, who may or may not have been blind. I couldn’t tell on account he refused to take off his sunglasses and hadn’t uttered one word to me other than “Name, date, sign.”
“You taking her?” The old man sniffed loudly. “Or you want me to get one of the guys?”
I wasn’t at all comfortable with the way Sergio grinned in my direction. “I think I’ll take her.”
“Think?” I repeated weakly.
“Come on.” He tugged me back outside.
A guy who looked about my age waltzed toward us. “Been a long time, Sergio.”
“Oh gosh.” I was going to puke. “You’re taking me, and it’s been a long time?”
“Chill.” The guy laughed. “It’s not like you forget how to jump out of a plane. Just make sure to check your equipment so you don’t go splat. Clean up’s a bitch.”
I felt all blood drain from my face.
“We’re on our honeymoon.” Sergio wrapped his arm around me and squeezed tightly. “Aren’t we, sugar pants?”
Oh? Little Italy wanted to play? I could dig that. “Sure are…” I pinched his ass. “…Mr. Big.”
Sergio let out a strangled cough while I placed my hand on his chest. “He’s a huge Sex and the City fan. Refuses to let me call him anything other than that… for…” I looked down at his tight jeans then cupped him with my hand. “…obvious reasons, though it seems just about anything excites him these days, huh, baby?”
Sergio gritted his teeth. “Whatever you say, baby.”
I fought back a laugh, removing my hand.
He squeezed my ass, nearly bruising me in the process.
“Whoa, you guys have one of those… fifty-shades relationships?” The guy took a step back and nodded admiringly.
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “My man likes whips.”
“Okay.” Sergio gripped me by the shoulders and steered me toward the plane. “Get everything ready, Tom. I’m just going to go over the basics with her before we take off.”
“Cool.” He walked off.
I watched him, my brow furrowing the more I watched. “He’s like ten years old.”
“Twenty-three.”
“He’s flying a plane.”
“That’s typically what pilots do.”
I pointed at him. “He can’t e
ven grow facial hair.”
Sergio rolled his eyes. “And you know that how?”
“I bet he still drinks milk before bed.”
“Andi, stop stalling, and follow me. We have to pack the chutes.”
I needed a paper bag or something to breathe into.
“You know…” My knees felt weak, and this time it wasn’t because I was having dizzy spells or my cancer was being a bitch; it was because real live fear was beginning to boil in my chest. “…we don’t have to do this. When I wrote down that I wanted to jump out of something scary, I meant like… a car.”
“A car?” Sergio turned, his smile mocking. “Really?”
“Yeah, like a really old car, one that was perhaps missing an engine and a steering wheel, making it so we had to roll it down a hill and just take our chances by hopping out.”
“You’re doing this.” Sergio grabbed one large, black pack-thing and pulled a chute out of it. “I always fold my own chute. Never trust someone else to keep you safe.”
“Good life lesson.”
“You pack your own chute even if the person swears they did it right because you know you the best. Got it?”
I nodded numbly, watching as he took special care in making sure the chute wasn’t torn. His fingers ran over every part of the material. I shivered.
He had nice hands.
They were soft, strong, not too rough, but really masculine at the same time.
“You cold?” Sergio asked without looking up.
“Um, no.”
“Mm-kay.” My eyes followed his hands as they moved the parachute, folding it, and then shoving it into the pack. “We’re good to go.”
“But I haven’t learned anything.”
Sergio glanced up at me, his eyes clear, so bright and blue that I let out a little gasp. “Do you trust me?”
Yeah. I really did. He may not particularly like me, but he’d protect me, he’d said as much. He would never let anything happen to me. So I gripped his outstretched hand and managed a weak “Yes.”
“Great.” His smile was easygoing — not dark or irritated. “Then all the training you need is to trust me and hold on tight while I take care of us and give you one of your honeymoon wishes.”