Page 68

JARED

I ’m sitting in a restaurant with Rachelle across from me, her eyes on the waves outside the bank of windows. Was it a mistake to bring her here?”

“We can leave if the water upsets you,” I suggest, leaning forward.

“I used to love it,” she breathes. “You know I grew up in Florida, right? The beaches and the cool springs were where you could typically find me as a kid. I just can’t swim very well.”

“What if you learned?” I ask.

“Liliana was teaching me until I died,” she says, tossing her bangs out of her face. Her hair is growing really well, and it’s making her sassy tonight.

Fuck, she is easily one of the more infuriating women that I’ve ever met.

“You’re not dead,” I grit out. We agreed we weren’t going to talk about the past, but I guess I opened that door. “Do you want to learn how to swim?”

“I have treading water down, but I look like a dog having a seizure if I try to swim,” she says, smirking.

“I can teach you, wife,” I remind her. “We’re surrounded by water in California, you should learn.”

“Maybe,” she says noncommittally.

“Is it because I don’t have tits and my name isn’t Liliana?” I ask.

“Jealousy is cute on you,” Rachelle teases me.

The waiter brings us a salad course and champagne, my fake ID coming in clutch today. I turn twenty one in September, which means I won’t need to worry about the long list of things that I need to be a certain age for.

“I like to remind you that you’re mine,” I tell my wife with a wink. A ring sits in my pocket, filling me with nerves. She deserves to know what she means to me, even if it’s soon, even if she may not believe me.

I’m an undeserving man, begging for her to be his for real. Fuck, this isn’t how this started, I just wanted to get her out of the hospital.

“Maybe,” she says, smiling as she takes a bite of her salad and hums in appreciation. In her defense, this looks amazing, and the tomatoes look incredible.

Picking up my fork, I follow suit and take a bite, nodding as I chew. This is one of the most famous restaurants in Santa Barbara that’s right on the water. I wanted tonight to be memorable. The sun is lowering over the horizon, streaming the sky with its bright colors.

“It really is beautiful here,” she finally allows.

“We haven’t had a first date yet,” I say. “The guys have taken you out, and we’ve all gone out together. I like to stand out.”

“Is that what took you so long?” she asks, laughing.

God, she has the best laugh. I’m obsessed, a simp for my wife, and I don’t fucking care.

“Yes,” I reply. “I wanted to show that I put some effort in.”

I used to be able to shoot the shit with her, act nonchalant, but something in the last three weeks has shifted. I can’t put my finger on it except to say that I can feel that I want more with her. Time isn’t limitless, and it feels as if I’m running out of it.

Ignacio has been on edge with Liliana due to this drug lord who can’t be found. I put this reservation under our corporation’s name so we couldn’t be traced. I didn’t want to worry about having to bring one of the guys to guard us.

My eyes move to Rachelle’s empty wrist, and I think about how quickly Ignacio was able to find us. I should ask Liliana about a tracker for Rachelle now that my mind is moving down this rabbit hole. If anything ever happens, we should be able to chase after our little mouse.

Plans, missives, all they lead to is chaos control when everything goes wrong.

“As sweet as that is, I don’t know that I need fancy things,” Rachelle muses.

“Maybe not, but you should still be able to experience them,” I say. “You’ve made cute little sounds the entire time you’ve eaten your salad. Calvin is going to be jealous.”

Smirking, she loads her fork with another bite. “It’s the dressing,” she confesses. “I could drink it, that’s how good it is.”

I need to see if the chef will be willing to give up his secrets. Her eating habits are so chaotic, I want to replicate food when she loves something.

“It is good,” I admit as I eat. “You’ll be officially done with school next week, right?”

“Yes,” she says with a nod. “Once I got moving, I flew through the material. The professors think I may not be suited for their school. Figures that excellence would get me kicked out of a school.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” I ask. “I thought you could work at your own pace?”

“That’s what the school and the professors say, but you know how things can change,” she says with a shrug.

“That’s bullshit,” I growl. “The more I think about it in retrospect, what happened to you sophomore year shouldn’t have. Your ability to learn and keep the work ethic that you do is amazing.”

“Now you’re gushing, husband,” she says, amused.

“It’s no less true,” I say. “You deserved to kick our asses in school because you earned your spot. Your grades have to be high enough to transfer to UCSB.”

I hold my tongue about all the shit I’ve been working on since she got out of the mental hospital in Oxnard. I fully plan to have her enter UCSB under her real name: Rachelle Denton. I refuse to give her up as my wife under either name.

I need to take a trip to see the council as soon as everything is in place.

I spoke to Theo last night about what I needed to be ready to make our move.

He’s come out of his funk now that Rachelle is back, reaching for his computer more frequently to hack into something whenever needed.

We all felt the effects of her absence, having her back is healing each one of us.

She deserves for us to return the favor.

Rachelle’s blue green eyes gaze at me as the waiter takes our empty plates and she picks up her champagne finally to take a sip. She’s thoughtful, rolling the liquid over her tongue before swallowing it. I chose a sweet, crisp champagne because I knew she’d like it.

Some things about my wife are as easy as breathing.

“How did you know I’d like this?” she asks.

“Lucky guess,” I murmur. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” she says suspiciously as I grin at her.

“If you could be anything, what would it be?” I ask.

Rachelle’s lips purse as she thinks, a cute wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

“That’s evolved a lot,” she sighs. “I’m trying this thing where I want to face the things that have hurt me. I think that’s leading me toward working in social work with teens. I won’t make much money…”

“You don’t have to worry about money,” I grunt. “So many people go into professions they hate for money. Do something you’ll love. I think you’re in a position to help teens who haven’t been listened to.”

She is that kid, even now. We’re here for her, but it’s easy to throw a minor into a hole and forget about them. Her unique situation of having no actual ties to the world because of her new identity has made it even worse.

“Shit, UCSB doesn’t have a social work program, but that doesn’t mean you can’t lead with psychology as your major,” I say. “Then you can get your masters afterward. We’ll figure out the details as they come.”

“It’s that easy, huh?” she asks, her eyes sparkling.

“Absolutely,” I confirm. “I think you could have used a person like yourself when you were fifteen. It’s bullshit that you didn’t.”

“Mr. Richardson did what he could when I was in school,” she says with a shrug. “I think he was the only teacher I liked.”

“He was a hardass,” I murmur. “He’s still at the school, refusing to take anyone’s shit. Enjoy the last two months before summer break, do whatever you want, and we’ll sort out your transfer to UCSB.”

“Shouldn’t I apply?” she asks, confused.

“No, I got it,” I promise her.

“Most people don’t just pull strings,” she says, getting quiet as our meal arrives. “This looks so good.”

Rachelle ordered a tagliatelle pasta with a wild mushroom cream sauce. It smells delicious as well. I ordered a lamb shank dish, but for some reason, her food lately always looks better.

Whipped. Without a doubt.

Left alone again, I begin cutting my food, my eyes on her as she twirls pasta onto her fork and takes a bite. Her eyes drop to half mast as she chews, a sure sign that she loves it. Fuck, I could watch her eat and be a very happy man.

“Liliana said it a couple of days ago, but it’s no less true. We don’t live by the rules, wife,” I remind her.

I don’t like to call her Rachel. It actually is beginning to grate on my nerves. The best way to avoid it all together is by refusing to use it.

“Yes, sir,” she says before she wraps those beautiful lips around her fork. This is just rude. I’m trying to eat, while my cock is thickening in my pants.

“Will you take me up on swim classes?” I ask, struggling to think about anything that will get my mind off my erection.

“In your pool?” she asks. “I really hate that I can’t see the bottom.”

“Yes, but I’ll be there the entire time,” I say, forcing myself to eat. She’s already glanced at my meal once as if wondering if there’s something wrong. “I won’t let my wife die. We have plans, babies to have, and years yet. All in good time, after all.”

She almost chokes, eyes bugging out as she takes a sip of water.

“We do, do we? Why does everyone want to knock me up?” she asks.

“There’s this primal feeling, knowing that you’re having our babies, but honestly everyone is also thinking about filling your cunt up with cum,” I say wickedly.

Her cheeks flush as her eyes begin to hood, but I’m not done yet. I have every plan to make her mine tonight. I should wear a condom, but I won’t. Filling her up with cum is the only thing I can think about now.

Maybe I’ll use the plug in my pocket in her sweet cunt after I give her my ring. That’s romantic, right?

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she rasps, her voice low and aroused. “I don’t even know why I want that.”

Smirking, I play nice until we finish the rest of dinner, and then walk her to the car after paying. It’s time for the next part of our date.

RACHELLE