Page 15 of Sex, Lies, and Margarita Mixes

BIKINI DIPLOMACY AND TEQUILA DEbrIEFS

ROXY

The second I see Mari Lynn relaxing in a float in the pool at her and Knox’s condo, I do what any emotionally stable, recently re-married—but not really, nothing official happened—woman would do. I take off running, kick off my wedges, and cannonball into her serenity.

She’s mid-sip on something fruity and smug, complete with a paper umbrella, when I shout, “Miss me, bitch?” and leap into the pool like a deranged dolphin with boundary issues.

She screams with fright, throws her drink into the air, and immediately starts crying-laughing as she slaps off the water that just doused her and mutters, “Oh my God, I knew you’d show up chaotic.”

I float on the surface and adjust my bikini top because my tit is now trying to say hello to everyone. Dark hair is plastered to my head, water is dripping down my face and I grin like I just survived the Hunger Games: Couples Retreat Edition .

“Hope you’ve got tequila and Knox is cooking something delicious.” I wink at her. “I brought trauma, titty sweat, and one hell of a I’ve-had-so-much-sex-with-my-fine-ass-husband-this-past-week I need calories appetite.”

Mari Lynn laughs and rushes to the edge of the pool, jumping out. I hold my arm up and she helps me get out, too. I only flash a little bit of too much cheek as I climb out and we soggily hug.

“You look radiant and emotionally unstable.” She chuckles.

“You should see my husband’s tongue. That bitch is almost as big as his bicep. It’s been busy. ” We both laugh.

Knox appears on the small patio of their condo, holding a pitcher of margaritas and a look of genuine fear.

He sees Chase—quiet, shirtless, walking up behind me with our bags—and grins. “You almost threw a chair at him?” he asks.

I retort, “No, not at him. At my ex. The piece of shit I wasted time with before Chase came along crashed our couples retreat. Chase was ready to throw down. He held my earrings.”

Knox just nods, sets the pitcher down, and takes a bag from Chase before slapping him on the shoulder. “Hey man. Good to see you.”

Mari Lynn pours three shots, and we take them, before I’m fully dry.

We’re lounging in the sun, half-dressed, and half-feral.

Chase and Knox sit a few feet away, talking about food like they’re not surrounded by our very loud emotional fallout.

They’re used to it.

“So,” Mari says, sliding her sunglasses down and waggling her brows at me over the top. “Tell me everything.”

I inhale like I’m about to deliver a TED Talk.

“First of all, I almost divorced him about fifteen times. He made me scream while I was laid back on the island in the middle of the kitchen and Trent walked in on it. Oh, and Miguel walked in while I was blowing Chase, also in the kitchen. He dropped his shit all over the floor and retreated. Then, Chase made me banana bread with chocolate chips because I needed comfort food. I saw Eden when his head was between my thighs—also in the kitchen—the kitchen apparently makes us really fucking hot for each other—Oh, I accidentally called him ‘home.’ I almost threw a chair at Holden’s face.

We rode a wave naked before a shark copped a feel of my ass and tried to eat Chase’s dick.

We flashed an entire beach. And I might be emotionally repaired. ”

She blinks and laughs as she says, “Oh, Roxy girl, I have missed you. ”

Reaching into my bag, I pull out the Ring Pop ring and slip it on before showing her my hand.

Her mouth drops open. “Bitch, he re-proposed?! ”

I grin. “Nah, just re-claimed.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Chase look over. Mari Lynn follows my gaze and smiles, softly. “He loves you so much it’s annoying.”

“I know. I weaponize it.” I retort.

We chuckle and clink glasses.

Tequila. Sunshine. Second chances.

And just like that, the chaos becomes comfort, and I realize home is wherever I’m loved loudest.

CHASE

Mari Lynn and Roxy have been chugging margaritas and shooting tequila for about two hours now.

They’re so wasted.

Mari Lynn reaches over and tries to adjust Roxy’s very skimpy string bikini top, muttering something about nipple sunburns.

Roxy replies with, “My left boob's immune to shame!”

Knox turns to me and says, without flinching, “So, this is our life, huh?”

I sip my own drink, just margarita, and nod. “Every blessed day. We’re some lucky sons of bitches.”

He grins, shakes his head and says, “They’re insane. Both of them. Like sexy as hell hurricanes.”

“And we live in the eye of it.” I laugh.

“You like it there?” He asks.

I snort. “I married her after three weeks and built a fucking condo in it, man. You don’t?”

He gruffly laughs and looks over at his woman, shakes his head, and says, “Wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Same, bro. Same.

We’re standing near the edge of the patio, half-watching our wives spiral into full-blown tequila giddiness. Mari’s pulling out sunscreen. Roxy’s trying to convince her to drink it.

I glance at him.

“You good? The show, the wife, the… everything ?”

He nods. And his voice is content as he says, “Yeah. Took a minute. A lot of changes, but… yeah. I’m fucking great.”

I get it.

Marriage is war.

And love?

Love’s the battlefield you go back to again and again.

Because some scars are worth it.

He tips his drink at me. “Heard you almost knocked out the toxic ex.”

I shrug. “I would have. But I didn’t need to. Technically, Roxy almost threw hands… and a chair. I threatened with legal action and emotional violence.”

“You’re calm.” He laughs.

“I’m strategic.” I reply.

He laughs. “What’s your strategy now?”

I look toward the pool. Roxy’s perched on a float shaped like a pink sparkly flamingo, hair wet, drink in one hand, sunglasses on crooked.

She’s yelling something about oral fixations and me winning a papaya eating contest with no hands to Mari Lynn, who is on a giant float shaped like a blue llama with a frog on its head.

Their feet are hooked together, and Mari Lynn is laughing so hard she’s crying.

I smile. “Love her like she’s a lightning storm I want to get struck by. Every day.”

He’s quiet. Then, he says, “You’re good at this.”

“What? Being whipped?”

He shrugs. “Not what I’d call it. I’d call it… being all in.”

I nod. “Roxy leaves devastation in her wake… usually that devastation is me. But I get up and rebuild. She’s my endgame.”

Suddenly, Roxy shouts, “Tell them how you almost cried mid-blowjob, babe!”

I choke, “Babe! There are other people out here!”

She looks sheepish and throws her hand over her mouth. She and Mari Lynn look around, wide-eyed as people either smirk or glare at them both.

Knox laughs so hard he nearly drops his glass and calls out, “How about we take this party back to the condo… inside… away from other people.”

Our women struggle to get back to the pool’s edge. Scrambling, undignified, their arms and legs are being used like oars. It’s a chaotic mess and I love it.

Somehow, they manage and never spill their margaritas.

I walk over and hoist Roxy up while Knox does the same with Mari Lynn. We stabilize our drunk wives and grab their obnoxiously large floats, and I growl. “It was emotional! I was overwhelmed! ”

Roxy grins like she’s queen of the unhinged and Mari Lynn and Knox both laugh outright.

“It was beautiful!” Roxy slurs.

Knox pats my shoulder while holding Mari Lynn upright.

“You know what? You win.” He chuckles.

“Damn right I do.” I mutter.

Looking around, he says, “Uh, wives are priority. Let’s get them inside and we can come back for this shit.”

ROXY

Mari Lynn and I must have passed out. Orgasmic dinner smells greet us when we wake up.

Grilled shrimp. Grilled scallops. Grilled pineapple. And grilled asparagus. As we eat, Knox, is also grilled emotionally, by me and Mari Lynn.

It’s our love language.

Chase’s arm is over the back of my chair like a gentleman.

I immediately ruin it by sitting sideways and sliding my foot up his leg under the table. My toes reach my goal, and I tease him. He hardens under my foot, but he doesn’t flinch. His jaw tightens though.

He’s delicious.

Mari Lynn raises her glass, and I struggle to pay attention to her instead of crawling under the table. “To survival. Marriage. And whatever the hell Roxy just texted me about a showerhead and salted caramel.”

I cackle.

Knox looks mildly alarmed.

Chase just grabs his drink and chugs it.

“So,” Mari Lynn says, grinning at me as we sit on the balcony. “Real talk. How did you actually survive couples retreat without punching a man-swapping essential oil dealer?”

Chase says, “I knew they were swingers.”

I take a bite of shrimp. Chewing slowly, then, I swallow.

“I didn’t. There was almost chair-throwing.

Kitchen sex… a lot of it. A perky-tittied—apparently, they are swingers— hoe bag hitting on my man right in front of me—I mean, whatever, they can do them.

But my man is my man and I’m not a sharer—A blow-up, end all, fight that Chase and I were not the participants in.

Crying. Banana bread sex. Rules that never had a chance of being followed.

Anal play… and a lot of frosted moaning. ”

Knox blinks. “Swingers… Anal… Frosted—?” He shakes his head.

Chase pops a scallop into his mouth.

Mari Lynn fist-pumps. “You two are disgusting, insatiable, pervs.” She winks.

“We’re thriving,” I say.

Chase nods. “We’re emotionally devastating, we know.”

The food keeps coming. The sun drops lower. Everything feels soft. Safe. Like we earned this.

Mari Lynn heads back inside to “finish dessert,” and Knox stands to follow, muttering something about “not trusting her with an open flame.”

Chase and I are alone on the balcony. It’s quiet. The breeze from the water is nice and the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach is peaceful. It should be calming.

I’m not calm.

Chases thumb lightly rubs circles on my thigh under the table. My breathing hitches and I can’t stop looking at him.

“You good?” he asks.

I nod. “Better than.”