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“One last hurrah before settling down.”
“Yup. And when you do meet prince charming, you’ll be so well versed in speaking up for yourself because you’ve been doing it with Abel, y’all will be riding off into the sunset in no time. You’ll tell your prince what you want and refuse to compromise, and he’s going to meet you there.”
I think about what Mollie said as I disembark in South Port. She’s not wrong. Then again, I can’t help but feel that sleeping with Abel would needlessly complicate an already convoluted situation. I’m worried about ruining our friendship. Ruining his friendship with Tuck.
But weareadults. Could I trust myself to keep lines of honest communication open? What if I view sex with Abel as exactly what Mollie said it would be—a much-needed mind-body exercise in self-advocacy? I’m comfortable with Abel. I trust him. Maybe our friendship works in our favor in that regard. I know him, and I’m pretty confident he won’t be turned off by the proposition.
He won’t play games.
Granted, he also won’t ever be prince charming. He’s a more morally grey anti-hero. Not gonna lie, though, that’s part of what makes this so hot.
What if going in with a clear understanding of what’s on offer—and what’s off-limits—in a relationship is the keyelement I’ve been missing? Brian and I always existed in this nebulous “hey, wanna come hang out” place. I was stupid, too afraid to tell him what I wanted or felt because I didn’t want to scare him away with requests for exclusivity and real dates. But I felt like there was possibility there. We didn’t always chat after hooking up, but the few times we did, I didn’t hate his company. It gave me hope for a real relationship.
With Abel, I know off the bat none of that is on offer. He’s not interested in marriage, much less driving a minivan. The lines would be clear with him in a way they never were with Brian.
Even so, could I honestly keep my heart out of the equation? Abel’s been exceptionally good at the fake husband thing. He’s thoughtful. Thorough.
Possessive.
He’s going to be exceptionally good in bed. I justknow. I’m already halfway in love with the man. What if I fall all the way?
Or.
What if I’m honest with myself about a man for the first time... in a long time? And what if being honest keeps my feelings in check?
Lest we forget, this is all assuming Abel’s also into the idea of sleeping together. Which is assuming a lot. What ifhesays no? His rejection would hurt a hell of a lot more than Brian’s ever could.
Making my way to the ferry terminal’s parking lot, I grab my phone and check out my ride-share apps.
Ooopf, the ride to the hospital is going to be expensive, but I don’t have a choice. I should’ve thought this through a bit better. In retrospect, I should have followed Abel to the terminal in my car the night I “moved in” with him. That way I’d have access to a ride whenever I needed to do things off the island.
“Mrs. Miller?”
Startling, I look up and find a man in a suit smiling at me. Did he just call me what I think he did?
Why does my pulse keep skipping beats? And how do I respond? Technically, I’m not anyone’s missus. But I am pretending to be Abel’s.
“That’s me, yes.”
“Good morning. Your car’s right over there.” He nods at the enormous black Escalade idling at the curb. “Can I help you with your bag?”
His words—the car service—nothing computes. “I think you have the wrong Mrs. Miller. I didn’t order a ride yet.” Much less a black car. My app said it’d cost north of two hundred bucks for the thirty-minute ride to the hospital.
The man shakes his head. “Your husband called and ordered you a car for the day. Mister Abel Miller?”
Blinking, I feel my face split into a smile.
That sneaky bastard. I didn’t talk to Abel about the logistics of today. Just told him I wanted to be at the hospital when the baby arrived.
But hethoughtabout this. How I’d get to the hospital from the ferry terminal without a car. And he took care of it.
The ride is nothing short of heaven. I sink into the cushy heated seat while soothing, slightly funky jazz pours from the speakers and send Abel a text.
The car is fabulous. Thank you. I’ll pay you back.
Abel Miller
Never. It’s a special day. Enjoy. Text me pictures of the baby.
