Page 3 of Desperate Games

Ride-or-die. Epic love affair. And it is still going on.

The kind of love that writes songs and breaks curses.

The kind of love that builds an empire and still makes out in the kitchen like no one’s watching.

It’s beautiful.

And kind of impossible to live up to.

Every cousin of mine is out here falling in love like it’s a damn team sport. One by one, they’re pairing off, glowing up, popping out babies like confetti—and I’m just here.

Simply existing. Trying not to look bitter about my single ass sipping champagne alone at every family wedding like it’s a choice.

I know I’m supposed to say things like I’m focusing on my career or I love my independence.

And I do. I love my life. My work. My own space. But I want more.

So what if it’s not trendy or modern or girlboss-approved to say it out loud?

I want the fairytale.

No, not even that.

I want home.

A family. A baby. Laughter in the morning and sleepy kisses at night. Sticky fingers, cartoons, lullabies, and someone who calls me Mom with juice on their chin.

And if I can’t find a man who gets me—who sees past the sarcastic mouth and the chubby thighs and all my chaos—then I’ll just have to do it myself.

I’ll make my own damn family.

Sure, I need a sperm donor. But walking into a sterile clinic and picking a name off a clipboard? That feels so impersonal.

So clinical.

So not me.

At least this way—if I go through with it—I can tell my baby one day, yeah, I knew your father. He was real. And beautiful. And maybe I loved him for a little while. Just one night, really.

Looking at Remy now?

All that smooth skin and glittering green eyes and the kind of mouth that makes you forget your last name—I don’t think I’ll have to pretend to feel something for him.

Not at all.

Because when he looks at me with that crooked smirk and that slow, sure confidence, something in my chest flares.

Something warm.

Something hungry.

Maybe I’m not making a mistake.

Maybe I’m just making a beginning.

My way.

“So, Remy,” I say after a few more drinks and way too many stolen glances.