Page 61

Hadley

June: I went to a sex club.

That’s it.

Full stop.

I went to a sex club!

A fantasy is a dangerous thing. It’s meant to live inside your mind as a way to play out exactly as you want.

Sometimes I’d fantasize about mundane things, like racing my horse or my car so fast that the only thing I could feel was the wind in my hair and the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

There wouldn’t be the worry of a bend in the road or an end to a path, just a wide-open space to feel alive.

And then other times, like right now, I’d fantasize about something as simple as a stroll.

Holding hands with my husband . And I’m so blissed out and happy that my face hurts from smiling.

“You alright?” he asks, nudging my hip as we walk.

I exaggeratedly sigh. “More than alright. I’m happily married. The guy is intense and sexy. My body is still recovering from”—I point up and down the front of him—“ all of him.”

He barks out a laugh and pulls my held hand to his lips.

“Plus, he makes me feel—” I stop short when I catch the steampunk-style sign in the window with bold letters and the perfect idea of what I want to do. Hideaway Ink.

Turning to face him, I give him a mischievous smile, barely containing my excitement. “I think I need a tattoo.”

He kisses my forehead and says, “Then let’s get you a tattoo.”

Easygoing, do-whatever-I-want Ace is not who I expected, but I’m more than happy to accept this version of him in the daylight.

The bell on the door is a riff of “Go Your Own Way” and, instantly, I think of Laney; she would love this place.

The shop is clean and pretty, a bohemian vibe of bright colors mixed with masculine and dark lines.

A gorgeous, tattooed woman with an easy smile and flawless makeup turns on her rolling stool when we walk in.

She pauses the tattoo she’s doing on an oversized man in biker leathers and says, “Hello, gorgeous,” and then does a double take at my husband.

Plopping the tattoo gun down, she stands, taking off her gloves as she walks over.

“My sister-in-law mentioned you two might come on through.” She doesn’t stop until I’m wrapped in a hug.

“I’m Giselle, but please call me G. Welcome to Hideaway Ink. ”

“G, how are you?” Ace asks.

She gives him an air-kiss on his cheek and says, “Fucking magical. But apparently”—she smiles, eyeing me—“you’re better! You went ahead and fell in love with one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen.”

I turn to Ace, smirking. “I love her.”

“I feel like the two of you in the same space is messing with the balance of the universe,” Ace says warily.

She slaps his chest with the back of her hand.

“You know I don’t do walk-ins, but your name precedes you.

Let me finish up my current client and pick what you’d like.

I’ll be with you in a bit.” She winks at me and leans into Ace, whispering loud enough for me to hear, “Haven’t seen you here in a long time, but marriage looks good on you, big guy. You look happy.”

He doesn’t even hesitate when he looks at me and says, “I am.”

We both study the wall of the mini-tattoo options. “These are all really cute, but I’m leaning toward maybe the logo for Midnight Proof or something having to do with being a Foxx now.” I tap my finger on my lips. “Or maybe a bourbon barrel? What do you think?” I say, turning to him.

He looks at a small and simple series of fruit, and then stops at a fine line drawing of a bird. “Can I make a suggestion?”

Too much laughing and less than thirty minutes later, I stare at the elegant cursive ink drawn along the inside of my wrist. It was his idea, and then he decided he needed to get one too. The words are a reminder of our vows—Preuve d’amour . Proof of love.

“I’m telling you, Hadley, if you want to fuck around with a French 75, then try it with cognac instead of gin. It’ll make all of your lips pucker. I promise,” G suggests as she wipes away the excess ink on Ace’s skin.

Strutt’s Peak, Colorado, is in many ways the complete opposite of Fiasco, Kentucky.

I look out the front of the shop and take in all its details.

Picturesque mountains and a brisk chill that rolls off the snowcaps in the distance.

When we walked here, it wasn’t the kind of temps we have in early summer back home, but in other ways, it feels so much like our small town.

The quintessential town center with shops intended for tourists woven in with familiar hangouts for locals.

There’s something special about small towns.

“No way,” I say under my breath when I peer out toward the town green. “Please tell me they’re setting up a movie night.”

Giselle smiles as she looks out the front windows, and then focuses her attention back on Ace’s tattoo. “From the first week of June until the end of the summer, Riggs Outdoor hosts a movie night on our green every week. You’re here in time for the first of the season,” she says.

“Any idea what they’re playing?”

“It’s always something from the 80s or 90s.

Last week it was Field of Dreams —tonight it’s another cult classic named Romancing the Stone ,” she says, wrapping Ace’s tattoo, and then tossing her gloves in the trash.

“Alright, I think this is incredibly romantic. I can’t wait to tell my husband.

” She smiles. “And Hadley, I might take you up on a visit. Midnight Proof sounds right up my alley.”

Not even an hour later, and after a little more window shopping, I’m watching from one of the open benches along the sides of the town green as Ace carries back a tray of tacos in one hand and two horchatas in the other.

The smile on his face as he looks around the now crowded space is one of contentment.

I’ve been slowly falling for Ace for most of my adult life.

I’ve fantasized about the man, obsessed over the bourbon boy, challenged the arrogant businessman, only to find myself exactly where I always wanted to be: deeply in love with my husband.

It feels like a moment to remember, so I slide my phone out of my bag and take two pictures: one of him staring out at the movie that just started and another of him smiling at me when he looks back and realizes what I’m doing.

I can’t help but smile back and all I can do is think, that man is mine.

And because I’m curious, I stupidly swipe off Do Not Disturb for the first time during this trip.

My phone buzzes wildly just as I’m about to set it back down.

I just wanted to be sure things at Midnight Proof are running smoothly.

Laney and Faye took the lead and said if there were any problems, they’d handle it.

And that must be the case, because there aren’t any messages from either of them.

Instead, there are twelve voicemails, all from different phone numbers.

A few text messages from Lincoln. And there’s a flagged email, which means it’s from my father’s attorney.

Miss Finch,

As you know, we have represented your father with the understanding that payment for services would come from the Finch the money that had been so carelessly left in my control is now invested in Fiasco business owners.

I should be feeling ready and relieved that the choices I’ve made are finally making an impact, but instead, an uneasy feeling shifts over me.

When I hold the phone up to listen to the first voicemail, my stomach turns when I hear my father, and my eyes shoot to Ace’s.

My father’s tone is laced with anger as he spouts his version of venom: promised threats.

“Do not think your actions here will go unanswered, pumpkin. You want to hit me where it hurts? Your new husband making you feel like you have a stronger backbone than you really do, is my guess.” He tuts.

“Be prepared to feel what it’s like to cross me.

If I’ve taught you anything, you should remember that betrayal deserves punishment. ”

I toss my phone next to me, hating that his words make my eyes water. Scratching along my wrist, I try to pull myself together and think about my journal of good things: June is iced coffees waiting for me, a new Boston jersey...and now I can add tattoos and a real proposal.

“He’s backed into a corner,” Ace interrupts, framing his hands along my face and trying to pull my attention back to the present. “You’re safe. Do you hear me, Hadley? He’s not going to hurt you.”

I want to be strong and pretend like my father’s promise doesn’t shake me.

I want to lean on my husband and know that he won’t let anything bad happen.

I’m exactly where I should be and can’t let anything ruin it.

I want to stand tall and calm, knowing that money went to fix the things that he helped break.

But I also know my father, better than most. And his threats are never veiled.

He meant what he said: he’s going to try to find a way to hurt me.

I want all of this good to linger, to keep breathing easy, and settle into being this strong and capable woman Ace so adamantly believes I am, but in my gut, I know, if there’s a way, my father will ruin it.

He’ll tear it down, find my weaknesses, just to get what he wants.

And what he wants now is more than just money or freedom. It’s to hurt me.

“Look at me, Hadley,” Ace says, his tone soft as he rubs into my shoulders to soothe me.

“Breathe for me, sugar. You are okay,” he says slowly.

My chest heaves as I start to slow my breathing, matching his measured breaths.

I hadn’t even realized I was gasping for air.

“I will not let anything happen to you. Do you hear me?”

It takes a moment to really hear what he’s saying. I nod, listening to the steadiness of his voice. Tears that were brimming finally fall as I say, “I’m happy, actually. Stupidly happy.”

“Yeah, you are,” he says quietly, the right side of his lip tipping up into an easy smile. “That’s it, just breathe.” He blows out a breath in time with mine. “That won’t be how things end, you hear me?”

“He ruins things. That’s who he is, Ace.”

“Maybe so. But this is our life, yours and mine. Not his. Not anymore,” he says as he wipes away the tears from my cheeks, pressing a kiss to my forehead. And the only thing I can think as he breathes with me, calming this tailspin, is, Goddesses, I hope he’s right.