Page 104 of A Guy Walks Into My Bar
That makes me hella happy.
He has his own friends, his own business, and his own life.
But my favorite part of his life is that he shares it with me.
51
Dean
That suit.
My fiancé looks fantastic in his suit a few weeks later.
It is dark gray, hugs his muscular frame, and makes me want to strip him down to nothing.
But I behave. I already had him in nothing, giving him his good luck charm before the game, and getting my own too. Pregame rituals are so important to follow.
Now, I help Fitz button his shirt, then I grab a purple tie for him from the closet. I fasten it around his neck, adjusting the length then knotting it. “Later, if you’re particularly good at that whole ice-defending thing you do, maybe you’ll get another reward.”
His blue eyes spark with dirty wishes. “Maybe? You’d never deny me, babe.”
“True.” I smack his ass. “Get to the arena. Playoffs start soon, and you need to continue hitting homers till then. I’ll see you there tonight.”
Fitz laughs as I walk him to the door. Before he leaves, though, he grabs the waistband of my jeans, bringing me against him. “You coming to my games never gets old.”
“I know,” I say with a smile. “But you need to go, or you’ll be late for kickoff.”
He rolls his eyes. “I fucking love you. That is all.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
A little later, I stop by The Pub, checking to make sure my employees have everything under control for tonight, then I meet up with Leo to head to the arena.
“I have a new book for you. It’s all about a Ponzi scheme on Wall Street. Totally brilliant,” I say, and as we walk across town, I give him my synopsis of the tale of greed and excess I just finished, since we have similar taste in books.
“I’ll check it out,” he says, but he sounds a little distracted.
He’s that way at the game too.
Normally, he’s all rah-rah, go, team, go, but when the good guys score, he doesn’t even cheer.
I sit back down, take a drink of my beer, and arch a brow. “What’s the story? You’re a little out of sorts.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “It’s Lulu.”
I blink, surprised to hear that name said that way. “Lulu? Your best friend’s wife?”
“Yes.” He says it heavily.
“Oh,” I say it heavily too, since I have a feeling this conversation is about to become more intense than the game. “Is there something going on with you and her?”
Leo shakes his head adamantly, like he can’t stop shaking it. “No, just no. No, no, no.”
“So, what is it?”
He takes a drink of his beer, sets it down, and sighs. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are that you’re not madly in love with your best friend’s wife? That you haven’t been for years?”
The logic there kind of falls apart for me, but now’s not the time to break it down. “You’ve been in love with Lulu since she married Tripp several years ago?”
“Since before she married him,” he admits. “And there is nothing I can do about it.”
“Well, yeah. Since she’s married and all.”
“I know. I know,” he says.
Then he keeps talking. He doesn’t shut up. He tells me about the day he met Lulu. He tells me about how Tripp fell for her too. He tells me about Tripp’s battles with alcohol, and how he and Lulu are trying to help him get to rehab, and it’s all really fucking intense, since he’s crazy for her too.
“But there’s nothing I can do.”
I nod, wishing I could dig into a secret box of bartender advice and give him the perfect solution for being in love with his best friend’s wife.
“All you can do is be his friend. And be her friend. That’s all you can do,” I say.
“Yeah. It is,” he echoes.
Later, after Fitz wins, notching an epic slap shot that I cheer the loudest for, my fiancé curls up with me in bed. “Did you have a good time at the game?”
“Always.”
“And how’s Leo?”
I shake my head. “You can’t imagine the ass-kicking that love is serving him right now.”
“Yeah?”
I don’t go into the details. It’s not my story to tell. Instead, I give him a one-sentence summary. “It makes what we went through to get here seem easy.”
Fitz arches a brow. “Was it hard though?”
“I dunno. Was it?”
“It’s hard now.” He nudges me with his pelvis.
I crack up, feeling the evidence. “You have such a one-track mind.”
“I know, but some things are always hard, babe. I can’t help it. I’m in bed with you. It’s just always going to be hard.”
“Get your lips on mine.”
When he kisses me, all thoughts of other people’s love lives fall out of my head, because mine is just too damn good.
And it’s not because we’re lucky.
