Page 12 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

TEQUILA, TRUTH, AND ONE HIGHLY PUNCHABLE EX

ROXY

The margaritas are heavy on the tequila and flowing like a river. It tastes like poor decisions and perfect timing. Exactly how I like it.

We’re on night six of the seven-day retreat. It all ends tomorrow.

Thank heavens!

The intimacy exercises are devolving. The couples are feral.

Miguel and Sasha are still not really speaking, which is super awkward since it’s a couples retreat, and Sasha is literally the instructor.

Miguel is drunker than shit and shirtless.

Trent’s moaning about handcuffs. And Sasha just suggested a drinking game called “Truth or Tequila: The Relationship Destruction Edition,” all while trying not to look at Miguel and absolutely failing miserably.

Naturally, I’m all in.

I’m three margaritas and three shots deep when a question hits me like a glitter bomb.

“Roxy,” Bree grins, already buzzed, “what’s the wildest place you’ve ever had sex?”

Chase’s smirk is immediate.

I sip.

Everyone leans in.

Raising an eyebrow, I say, “On the back of a Vespa in Florence.”

Trent drops his drink.

Miguel bows while still sitting and takes a long sip of his drink.

Whitney gapes. “Like…while it was moving ?”

Chase lifts his glass. “It was but we didn’t crash. At least not in front of people.”

I wink.

Sasha spins the bottle again and it lands on Chase.

“Same question,” Bree demands.

He doesn’t even blink.

“Well, I was there for the Vespa incident, but I think the rented bounce house during a child’s birthday party, tops that.”

Gasps follow, along with wide eyes, and then, laughter.

Whitney screeches incredulously, “Seriously… you did what?! Y’all did not. That’s… um… No y’all didn’t.”

Chase shrugs. “We did. But in our defense, the kids were at the cake table, along the house and we were way further back. Plus, the bounce house had dark mesh siding.”

Miguel mutters, “And you’re the reason I don’t trust balloon animals or giant rubber death traps.” He refills his glass with margarita and adds about three extra shots to it. His eyes slide over to Sasha. Chase and I catch it and look at each other, smirking.

We keep going. The questions get worse. Saucier. Messier.

Who’s faked it? Who’s cheated? Who’s fantasized about someone else at the table?

The bottle spins. It points at me. And Bree leans forward.

“Have you ever been in love with someone else while you were in a relationship?”

The air goes still. The tequila goes heavy in my stomach. Chase’s eyes are on me.

Steady. No panic. No flinching. Just… there .

I realize what he already knows.

I haven’t.

Not even close.

I shake my head. “No. I’ve only been in love once.” I nod. “With him .”

A satisfied and feral smile covers Chase’s face.

I take the shot anyway, because that kind of truth…That one’s just for us .

Sasha goes to spin again—when the door abruptly swings open. We all whirl. No one but us is supposed to be here.

A voice cuts through the deck like a rusty blade. “Well. This looks like a fun little disaster.”

We all stare at the door while I gasp. My voice is practically a banshee screech as I say, “Holden?”

What the fuck is he doing here?

The guy who did such a number on me, I swore I’d never trust a man again.

Until I did. Until Chase.

My blood goes cold. The tequila and my temper make me hot. Before I can react, I hear the soft sound of a chair scraping back. I see Chase stand.

CHASE

I don’t even think. I’m on my feet before he finishes his smug little line.

“Well. This looks like a fun little disaster.”

Holden.

The human version of unseasoned chicken and emotional gaslighting.

And he’s standing in the doorway of the retreat house like he belongs here, like he isn’t the reason Roxy had to rebuild her confidence from rubble.

And the reason my marriage has been insane for the past three and a half years.

He broke her and I’ve been trying to piece her back together ever since.

I will snap his jaw if he so much as blinks wrong.

Roxy doesn’t move but I can feel it—her spine’s stiff. Her breathing’s off. Her tequila haze is… gone .

She’s triggered. I’m activated. And he’s already dying in my head.

“Wrong house, man,” I say.

My voice is calm. I am not. He smiles like he doesn’t hear the warning.

“Still have an attitude, I see, macho man.”

I step forward. Slow. Deliberate. The kind of pace a lion makes before the kill. “You’ve got five seconds to back out the way you came in. Or I stop playing nice.”

Roxy’s still silent. She’s standing now, too. Not behind me. Next to me, because that’s who we are now.

Partners in violence. I will protect what’s mine.

Holden chuckles. His eyes flick between us. He sneers, “Oh, you two are still a thing? Cute. I figured she’d get bored once the novelty of the tatted muscles wore off and the marriage would be annulled.”

Roxy tilts her head. Dangerously slow. “Is that jealousy in your tone, or are you just trying to have your jaw wired shut again?”

Bree gasps and Trent and Weston sit up straighter. They’re poised to intervene if they need to.

Miguel mutters, “Oh shit, Roxy is about to throw hands.”

Whitney ducks behind the couch still clutching her drink.

I just smile because Roxy’s earrings are already in my palm.

My baby is about to fuck this piece of shit up.

“How are you even here, Holden? Are you stalking me?” she asks.

Good question. How is he here?

Holden shrugs. “I know the owners. They mentioned they rented it to Chase West. The name caught my ear so, I thought I’d stop by and see if you were still hung up on me.”

Bruh, you heard the name of your ex’s husband, who is twice as big as you are, plus, madly in love with the woman you shit on, and you thought rolling in here uninvited was a good idea?

You are dumb as shit.

She blinks like she heard him wrong. Then, she laughs. Not sweet. Not flirty. Ferocious. “Hung up on you? Boy, I forgot your small dick and big ego even existed until just now—and I’m still not convinced you’re real.”

Boy… small dick… big ego…

Hell yes.

His face reddens but before he can respond, I step between them. Not to block. To finish it.

My voice drops. So does his confidence. “You had your shot. You wasted it. You don’t get to walk into her space and disrespect my wife and expect not to bleed for it.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me, macho man?”

I lean in and grin, slowly, as I crack my knuckles. “No, Holden. I’m promising. ”

He stumbles back like the weight of it finally hits him and looks at Roxy. “You’re just going to let him talk to me like that? You know I can have him… and you , in a cell in an hour.”

Roxy laughs again, “Step over here and say that.” He blanches, “You want to roll the dice, Holden. You already know I fight dirty. I’ve already broken your jaw once…

you want to eat all of your meals through a straw again?

A cell would be worth that view. And Chase is a grown man, I don’t control him.

He’s a person, not a possession .” Her tone is flat, sure, not scared in the slightest but he catches the implication of the last word.

He looks from her to me to the rest of the room… and notices Sasha is holding her phone up and it’s pointed right at him.

She says, “Yeah, you dumb fuck. Smile, you’re on camera.

One touch and this gets posted to all of my socials…

only about three-hundred-thousand people, give or take.

Unless, of course, it goes viral.” She tsks.

“What would that do for that brand of yours? Millionaire investor and general shmuck breaks in at ex’s getaway with her husband.

Stalking and breaking and entering, plus harassment.

” She hums. “I’m sure there are a few charges I’m forgetting. ”

Security shows up just then. Miguel drunkenly waves from his position on the couch. “I called them.”

They escort Holden out, as he grumbles about “just wanting to talk” and “making them delete the footage.”

When the door closes, the entire room exhales.

I’m still burning. Still vibrating with the need to make sure she feels safe. Turning, I take her face in my hands. “Are you okay, baby?”

She nods, “I’m good. I was ready to throw a fucking chair at his head. Are you?”

“I know,” I say. “I was gonna flip the couch.”

Miguel mutters, “As the dude on the couch, thanks for skipping that.”

She grins at me, “Next time, let’s go full WWE.”

“Deal.” I mutter.

She reaches over, grabs the front of my shirt, pulls me into her, and crashes her lips over mine. In front of everyone while standing on her toes.

She’s fierce. She’s wild.

She’s not his anymore. She never was.

She’s fucking mine.

ROXY

Sasha and Miguel are staring at each other when Chase and I stop kissing.

He says, “Good call on videoing him.”

She says, “Smart move calling security.”

He nods. “Yeah. You stood up to him. That was fucking hot.”

She grins, “Yeah?”

He mutters, “Yeah,” and she climbs into his lap. They start making out and everyone just kind of chuckles. Sasha drags him to their room.

The rest of us continue to hang out and I do the thing where I pretend I’m fine. I cut jokes and laugh with the group. I make another pitcher of margarita’s when it’s empty. But inside, I’m starting to unravel.

It’s not about Holden, the fuckface loser in a leather jacket in summer and thousand-dollar cologne.

Not really.

It’s about who I used to be when he had power over me. And how much I hated that girl.

I slip out after about an hour and stand barefoot on the deck.

Cool air. Dark sky. Heart pounding like it’s trying to remember its own rhythm.

Then, I hear him behind me.

Barefoot. Soft steps. Chase.