Snapshot (Lessons in Love Book 2)

Present Day

Las Vegas

Sitting, I glide my fingers over the grain and grit of the dirty curb, waiting for Dex to speak. Moments ago, he interrupted my flamboyant rendition of the electric slide and led me outside of the dive bar with urgency. He said he needed to talk to me about something important in private…but he has yet to say a word to me. Instead, he stepped a few paces away and started making calls, muttering in hushed tones. I didn’t bother trying to hear what he was saying.

It’s dark except for the flickering glow of the streetlamp across the street. The odor of the dumpsters across the street is really rounding out the ambiance. All we need is cop sirens in the distance or the screeches and wails of an alley cat fight to set the mood.

The effects of all the alcohol are finally wearing off. I’m tired. My bones feel heavy, and I imagine my blood is thick and sluggish in my veins. I’m also aware that I reek of smoke. Several people were chain-smoking cigarettes in the bar. Now, a headache is most definitely in the works.

I just want to go home and crawl into bed.

Except I don’t have a home. I no longer have a bed.

That’s the problem with pushing off your problems. They will, in fact, catch up with you the moment you stop dancing.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dex says, waving his phone in the air as he approaches me. “I was working out some logistics.”

I barely lift my shoulders, too exhausted to put in any more effort than that. “No big deal. I needed some fresh air anyway. Actually, I think I’m ready to leave if you are? I just need to pay my tab.”

“I already took care of it.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” I’d tell him he didn’t need to do that, but tonight…yeah, I kind of need the help.

Dex sits down next to me, too close. Our shoulders and thighs press into each other, and while I go rigid like a board, he seems entirely unfazed. I want to smack him when he acts like this. It’s frustrating when he doesn’t understand how reckless his touches are. This is why I’m accidentally mumbling the wrong man’s name when I’m using my vibrator.

“Are you cold?” Dex asks.

“No.”

“You’re shivering.” Maneuvering around my back, his hand finds the outside part of my arm, and he rubs rapidly. Goddammit. But I let it happen. “Sorry I dragged you out here. I couldn’t hear in there.”

“It’s fine. So, what did you want to talk about?”

“My grandma died.”

My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Stunned into silence is the only explanation I have. Of all the things I was expecting…not that. Oh, Dottie. I feel the tension in my chest, an instant ache of sadness. Dorothea Hessler is the kind of woman who leaves an impression. If it hurts my heart that she’s gone, I imagine Dex is devastated right now.

Dex can be a chatterbox but usually only talks in circles about inconsequential things. At first, I used to think he was a little goofy. Or smoked pot. I always imagined Dex saw the world in kaleidoscope colors, with The Beatles greatest hits on repeat in his head. It took me a little while to realize that Dex is just strategic with conversations. He’s skilled at making you focus on what’s unimportant, not what he really wants to say. His way of keeping the world at arm’s length.

So why is he opening up now? Grief?

But I choose not to focus on why he didn’t tell me. More importantly, I want to know how he’s holding up. “Dex, I’m so sorry. How are you?”

He takes his arm back then leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. Staring across the street, he’s looking into dark shadows of nothing. “I don’t know. There was the funeral, the will, and all the business affairs afterward.” He shakes his head. “I’m still wrapping my head around it. Everything’s felt transactional since she passed.”

I only met Dottie Hessler once. Over one dinner, I learned her favorite flowers are daisies. She and Jacob were dear friends. Like me, she had an irrational fear of the ocean, so she never learned to scuba dive despite the enthusiasts in her life. Her French perfume was by far the most glamorous scent I’d ever experienced. The only cocktail she enjoyed was a Long Island Iced Tea. Otherwise, she took her red wine French and her liquor neat. She always got her nails painted red. And most importantly, Dex was the light of her life.

That’s it.

The extent of my knowledge. The way Dex is staring off into the abyss has me wishing I knew more so I could say the right thing. It’s clear he’s hurting more than he knows how to convey. “When?” Is all I can think to ask.

He glances at me briefly in his periphery, then goes back to staring at the street. “When I was in Socorro. I didn’t have service.” He buries his face in his hands. “The one week I didn’t have service…and then she died. I’m told she went peacefully in her sleep,” he mumbles through his fingers.

“Has anybody been helping you through all this? Any family?” I cringe, wondering if it’s an inconsiderate question. Dex doesn’t like to talk about his family or lack thereof.

“Like who?”

“Cousins? Family friends?”

“I don’t have cousins. My mom was an only child. You already know she died when I was little. Never knew my dad. My grandma and grandpa raised me until he passed away, too.”

“Dex,” I exhale out, now feeling breathless. “That’s everybody. How are you⁠—”

“It sounds dramatic when I say it like that, but I’m fine Len,” he rushes out, brushing off the intensity of the conversation. “Anyway, I was thinking about our current situations and⁠—”

He stops mid-sentence, and his gaze rises with me as I stand.

“What are you doing?” Dex asks.

He’s so handsome, it’s a distraction. I don’t usually pay attention to how strained his eyes look behind his thick, full lashes. It’s like tension. It’s as if he’s always holding his poker face, worried he might break at any minute under the tremendous pressure.

“Stand up,” I say.

Once he does, I wrap my arms around his stomach and turn my head so my cheek is pressed against the middle of his chest. It’s admittedly a little awkward because Dex is so much taller than me. This is the best I can do in the territory of friendly hugs. I even try not to breathe in the sexy smell of his leathery, spicy cologne that makes my head foggy. It’s when he hugs back that I step away, realizing that I’m enjoying the warmth of his body too much. Not the best time to take advantage of my friend.

I even go as far as offering him an explanation he didn’t ask for. “I can’t afford to send beautiful flowers like your grandma deserves. And the kitchen is not where I shine, or I’d offer to make you a casserole. Bear hugs are all I have to offer. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says with an exhale. “That felt really nice. Can I have one more?” Dex holds his arms out as an invitation.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah, why are you surprised?”

“You’re not really a hugger.”

He stares at me, eyes wide and pleading like I’m missing the obvious punch line of a joke. “I’m a hugger, Lennox. You just never offer. In fact, you usually treat me like I’m contagious. I always assumed it was out of respect for whoever you’re dating.”

Incorrect. It’s actually because I see his face almost every time I come, so I’m trying hard not to blur even more lines by touching him too much. “Yeah, I guess something like that.”

“But you’re single now, right?”

“Right.” I pretend to be nonchalant as I step back into his arms, fully prepared to give him another awkward cheek-against-chest, butt-out, pat-on-the-back hug, but Dex has other plans. After ducking his head, he grabs my hands, one by one, securing them at the top of his shoulders. He rests his chin in the nook where my neck meets my shoulders and then his muscular arms are squeezing the life out of me. He’s holding me so tight against his body, I’m almost certain if I open my mouth, a squeal will slip right out. It doesn’t hurt, it just feels desperate. I wanted this hug. He apparently needed it.

“No one offered this,” he mumbles into my neck.

“What’s that?” I ask. My face is buried into his pec, and screw it, I breathe him in. I breathe him the fuck in and let my legs go completely numb. Just one tiny moment. This moment belongs to me.

“Endless handshakes, pats on the back, and goddamn, do elderly people love to brush fictitious crumbs off your shoulders…but no one hugged me. Think about that. My grandma died, and no one offered me a hug. Until you. Thank you,” Dex says against my ear.

He kisses the top of my head, then finally lets me go. It feels like we just crossed some sort of boundary. I’m not sure what it was but that was more than friendly. For a moment, I think I just admitted all my feelings for Dex with one hug. That would’ve been humiliating.

His embrace is gone, so I cross my own arms, cupping my elbows with opposite hands. “Dex, if you want your friends to help, all you have to do is ask.”

“Well, I’m asking now.”

I raise my brows. “For another hug?” I’m game for another. Only one more moment, though, because any more time spent in fantasy land and I might accidentally get stuck.

“No, something a little more involved than a hug. A job.” Dex holds up his hands like he’s telling me to halt, but I haven’t moved a muscle. “What if I offered you a job for just one year that would set you up for the rest of your life? You’d never have to work or worry about money again. Your kids would never have to worry about money again.”

His cool, casual demeanor makes me wonder if he’s not exaggerating. Pretending like his cryptic offer is for real, I answer with the first thing that comes to mind. “I mean, provided I don’t have to take my clothes off or put anything in my mouth, I’d say that sounds pretty damn good. What are you suggesting?”

He smirks at me with a touch of humor relaxing his tense brows. “As long as you don’t have to put anything in your mouth?”

“We live in Vegas. Don’t act like that’s a weird thing to be worried about.”

“Fair enough. But no—nothing like that. My grandma…” He exhales. “How do I sum this up as quickly as possible?”

“I don’t mind a story.”

His lips twitch into a half-hearted smile. “I’m not a good storyteller.”

That’s a lie. Dex’s scuba diving stories are legendary. “Fine. What about your grandma?”

His sigh is heavy like he’s reluctant to talk about the conversation he brought up. “I think she got caught up in this idea that I shouldn’t take over the company alone.”

I nod along, but I’m not really understanding.

“My family’s company is bigger than I’ve alluded to. There are a lot of jobs and money on the line. I’ve been preparing to take over the company my whole life. Everyone assumed my grandma would leave the business to me.”

“But she didn’t?”

“No, she left everything to my wife.”

The first thing I feel is a paralyzing zap of shock. Ice-cold shock.

Then, anger.

“You have a wife, Dex?” I ask in a harsh whisper. I don’t notice I’m backing away from him until he steps forward to close the growing gap between us.

He rolls his eyes, and for the first time in my history with him, it doesn’t make me laugh. “Don’t, Len. Not you, of all people,” he says.

“Don’t what?”

He clamps his giant hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. “Jump to conclusions. It’s not what you think.”

I narrow my eyes. “Then choose your words more carefully. Because I don’t want to be outside of a bar this late, flirting with a married man.”

The hard lines of his chiseled jaw slacken. He cracks a smile. “We’re flirting?”

“Or talking, I mean,” I rush out, scrambling for words. Shit. I didn’t mean for that to slip out. My thoughts are ricocheting off the walls like a pinball machine. “I just know what it looks like. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression. All our friends think we secretly hook up. I’m pretty sure Alan’s convinced I’m in love with you. It’s why he dumped me. The very last thing I need is an angry, jilted wife pounding on my door, threatening to kick my ass over something that’s never existed between us.” As soon as the last words leave my lips, my open palm finds my forehead. I hang my head, looking down at my metaphorical word vomit spilled all over the ground.

“Alan dumped you because of me?” Dex asks.

I peek up. He’s also looking down, staring at my boots like he’s ashamed.

“No. I mean, yes, but there’s more to it than that. He just thought… He was feeling insecure, is all. Don’t read into it.”

Dex rolls his hand over my shoulder, then down my back, leaving a blazing trail of goose bumps wherever he touches. “I’m sorry. The whole point of resisting you was to not make your life so messy. But shit, since I’m screwing everything up for you anyway, might as well dive in.”

“Oh…I…” I can’t seem to form a lucid response.

“I’m not married. I’ve never been. My grandma left the business to my wife to force me to get married. It’s either find a wife or forfeit the company. So, I need to get married, have my wife assume the role of CEO, then she’ll hand everything right back to me after a year.”

“What?” I squall. “How? Are you even dating anybody?”

“It’s just paperwork, Lennox. Afterward, we’ll get amicably divorced, and everyone can move on with their lives. As of right now, I have someone lined up.”

“Oh. Who?” I do a terrible job biting back the jealousy in my voice. Dammit. “Never mind. Not my business,” I quickly backtrack. My head is spinning. There are too many competing thoughts and emotions flooding my mind. I’m going to drown in the confusion. How is Dex talking about all this so nonchalantly? He just lost Dottie. He should be in shambles. They were so close. And what the hell does he mean his grandma is forcing him to marry some woman—who I swear I don’t already resent—from beyond the grave?

Dex is still elaborating, but I’m only catching portions of his explanation. As I repeat the conversation in my mind, a new realization comes over me. Wait… Did Dex just say he’s been “resisting me?” What the hell does that mean? Are all these touches reckless for him, too?

“…she’s a Harvard grad, plenty of business experience, familiar with the social elitist circles, already lives in Miami. She checks all the boxes, apparently…”

“Right.” I try to refocus on the logistics of the conversation, but my mind wanders. If we’ve been feeling the same way for three years… What the hell, man? And then why is he telling me all of this now? Is it possible he’s been holding back his feelings, too?

I fixate on Dex’s moving lips, trying to concentrate on what he’s saying and stop wondering what kissing him would feel like. Focus, Lennox. I’m staring so intently, my eyes ache. Are my eyes dilated? They feel dilated.

“…but this is going to be the hardest year of my life, and I’d rather do it with a friend. I know it’s a big ask. But I will take good care of you every step of the way. I’ll do all the heavy lifting. You’ll just have to sit in the boss seat, sign paperwork, and attend a few events. Then, after a year, the nightmare will be over, and you’ll be financially set for life. I promise. Name your price.”

I stare at him, trying to fit the missing puzzle pieces together. “My price for what?”

His eyelids clamp shut, and he exhales like he’s exasperated with me. “How much to convince you to marry me? I just inherited everything, Len. When I tell you I don’t have limits, I mean it.”

I roll my eyes. “A million dollars,” I tease.

“How about twenty million?” he asks, holding my gaze. Not a hint of humor in his quick reply. Dex looks completely serious, and it all hits me at once…

Why he’s never really cared about the scuba shop bringing in money. The reason he doesn’t talk about his other job. How his monthly fish food costs more than what I make in a month. He’s been sharing his life with half-truths for years.

“What the actual fuck, Dex?”

“I can go higher. And I don’t mind because you might be the only woman I’ve met who actually deserves it.” He cradles my shoulders. “I typically don’t like to ask for help, but…”

“You need my help?” I ask, finishing his thought. He nods.

I wet my lips and consider my answer. I’m in debt. My credit sucks. I don’t have a home. Dad’s in financial ruin. My family needs help. My tooth is getting worse. One day, I’m sure my kids would appreciate a mom who isn’t such a hot mess. Money would definitely make things easier…

But I don’t think money would make me happier.

I silently stare at Dex, still half expecting him to burst out laughing with a giant “Just kidding.” But judging by the look on his face, he’d probably give me anything I want right now.

“The position will pay like a normal job, right?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, looking caught off guard.

“As in, I’d work for you and then earn a paycheck. I’m assuming it’ll be enough for rent, groceries, gas, and all that stuff?”

“Technically, if you accept, I’ll work for you.” Dex smiles my favorite smile, the one that starts at the corner of his eyes. “But full transparency, I should explain—Hessler Group pays its CEO a lot less than industry norms. It’s a decision my great-grandparents made to help with employee gainshare because they never needed the income. Cut down the CEO’s salary, then all the entry-level employees can get paid a little more. So, the salary is marginal compared to other Fortune 100 CEOs, but I promise, it’ll more than cover rent, groceries, and gas.”

“Did you just say Fortune 100? Dex, what are you even talking about right now?” As much as I try to avoid corporate conversations, I’m not completely clueless. I know what a Fortune 100 company must be worth from my dad’s days in finance.

He tilts his head as he looks into my eyes with a strained expression. It almost seems like a silent plead for me not to overact. “Have you ever heard of Luxe Adventure, Serenity, or Victorian cruises?”

“Of course.” My parents splurged on a Serenity cruise for their twentieth anniversary. Luxe Adventure is apparently the cruise line to go on if you want a celebrity spotting. Victorian is an international cruise line if you want to live on a boat for a month. “Your company works with those cruise lines?”

“They are my cruise lines. Hessler Group owns all three, among other commercial vacation ventures.”

“You said your family was in cargo shipping,” I blurt out, accusing him.

“No,” he replies, defensiveness lacing his tone. “I said we were in ships. You filled in your own blanks.”

“And you let me,” I argue back.

“All you’ve done since I met you is talk about how much you hate corporate, money, ‘the man,’ and basically everything I am. How else was I supposed to—” He blows out a sharp breath instead of finishing his sentence.

“To what?”

Dex holds out his hand, but I don’t take it. It’s not anger, it’s fear. Three years I’ve cherished this man, but who the hell is he really? Have I been falling for an idea instead of a person? “Look…I’m a different guy in Las Vegas. I took some time to explore the other things I care about. But now, vacation is over, and it’s time to get back to my actual life. I guess I’ve always been worried you wouldn’t like the real me.”

“So, you lied?”

“I…” He looks up, then down. Eyes fixed on his shoes, he continues, “I kept you. It’s as simple as that. You’re my best friend, Len. I said and did what was needed to keep you close. Can you try to understand that?”

He drops his hand to his side, accepting I have no intention of taking it. The guilt seeps through me as I see the defeat grow in his eyes. All I want to do is fix it. Mend the pain. Fill in the gaps. It’s dangerous how much I care about Dex. Telling me the truth created all these holes, now my first instinct is to patch them.

“Tell me more about this job, Dex. You know I’m wildly underqualified to be a CEO, right?”

“It’s more of a figurehead position. Basically, your job is to just spend time with me for a year. Hopefully not the worst thing in the world.” He winks, trying to add his signature playfulness into the conversation.

There are multiple red flags flapping so hard in my mind. My logic and reason take over, scolding me: No. Bad idea. One, don’t marry someone when the end goal is divorce. You’ll end up getting hurt. Two, and more worrisome, don’t marry someone just for money. You’ll end up getting screwed over. Three, this is Dex. Freaking Dex Hessler. Lie all you want but you know how you feel about him. Don’t marry a man who doesn’t want you back. You’ll end up getting annihilated.

On the other hand…

I bet even half a hotshot CEO’s salary is enough to clear up some of my debt and maybe help my parents as well.

“How much is the CEO’s salary?”

Dex grimaces. “A little north of six million. I know it’s modest, but like I said, I’m personally offering you⁠—”

“Modest? Do you live on a different planet?” As soon as the words are out, I realize the truth of it all. It hits me like a train. All the tender touches, the way Dex smiles and lights up when he sees me. How he laughs with me. The first time we met, the way he was looking at me like he was hungry for me. It never really made sense why we didn’t cross that line together…until now.

No way Dex sees me as compatible. He couldn’t end up with the broke, hot-mess, purple-haired girl. It’s probably why he doesn’t mention his family or talk about home. Why he keeps the distance between us…

“Len, are you okay?”

All the times I felt more than comfortable opening up to Dex about my life and money problems. Now, I’m a little embarrassed. My eyes lift to meet his, and it suddenly dawns on me that Dex is so much taller than me. He’s been looking down on me since the moment we met.

“How much do you make?”

“That’s complicated,” he says, pinching one eye shut. “It’s my family’s money…old money. I don’t technically make it.”

He stops his explanation there, probably thinking he’s off the hook. I narrow my eyes and point right at his chest. “No. No way. You just asked me to marry you. No more secrets, half-truths, and most definitely no more family deaths that you hide from your friends. If you want my help, you better start talking.”

He blows out a long, steady breath. “It’s not like it’s all cash in my pocket or anything, but with assets, property, the company…I don’t know. My net worth is somewhere in the ballpark of eighteen billion.” He scours my face, reading something I can’t see. “And that look right there is exactly why I didn’t tell you all this.”

“What look?” I relax my face, wiping away the evidence of whatever he just saw.

He sucks in his lips. “Money changes people. And a lot of money usually changes them in bad ways.”

His words knock the wind out of me, mostly because I wasn’t expecting that response. Like when a punching bag swings back and knocks you down on your ass. “So, you lie to all of your friends because you don’t want us coming after your money?” I let out a bitter chuckle and nod. I’m too sober for this. I’m tired. I’ve carried this stupid crush for three years on a man I obviously don’t know.

“No. That’s not what I meant,” he pleads.

“Dex, you don’t need me,” I say, looking over my shoulder at the bar entrance. “You clearly have options. And right now, honestly, it feels like you’re a stranger. So, no. I can’t marry you, even for a year.” But I reach out and run my fingers lightly across his forearm. “But I’m really sorry about your grandma. If you ever want to talk, I’ll be here.”

I turn to head back to the bikers and booze but am yanked back. “Please, wait.” Inhumanly fast, Dex weaves his fingers between mine, holding my hand with a death grip.

“I’m not into fancy things. My only real vices are expensive liquor and dive trips.” He rushes his words out like he’s on a timer. “One time, I wanted to see this shipwreck in a remote part of Nova Scotia, and they didn’t have enough passengers to justify the tour, so I just bought the whole damn yacht and made them take me out. My favorite food is Cubanos—but only if they’re authentic. I’ve never broken a bone, but I have had stitches. Sliced my foot open on a broken glass bottle on the beach. Um, let’s see what else… My birthday is February eighteenth. I have the same birthday as my mom. I never tell anyone that because I don’t celebrate outside of this tradition I have with my grandma. Every year for our birthday, we’d eat at a burger place called Rooster’s. They have the most ridiculous menu, and they are always changing it and trying crazy stuff. There’s a peanut butter jelly turkey burger on the menu.”

I pinch my face in disgust, and Dex raises his brows.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. And anyway, it’s not about the food. It’s just a place my grandma and I felt close to her. I was only seven when she died from a stroke nobody saw coming. I lost my mom; Grandma lost her daughter. As devastating as it was, after a while, my grandpa, her friends, and everyone else just seemed to move on. But not Grandma and me. We kind of stood there, watching in shock as the world kept spinning for everybody. So, once a year, on me and Mom’s birthday, Grandma and I would go get a burger and a confetti birthday shake and sit there dumbfounded that no one else seemed to still be missing her like we were.”

I’m quiet and completely still, like I’m trying not to startle a deer away. I’ve known Dex for three years, and I’ve learned more about him in the last two minutes than I have in all those years combined. I want to hear more, except now he’s staring at me like it’s my turn to speak. I clear my throat and say the first thing that comes to mind. “Dex, that’s the most heartbreaking story I’ve ever heard. Are you…trying to guilt me into marrying you?”

He shakes his head like it’s preposterous. “No.” Then his smile turns just a touch mischievous. “Would that work?”

“So, you made all that up?” I ask, my tone turning glacial.

“No. Not at all. Rooster’s is very much real. The confetti birthday cake shake is epic. They put little frozen pieces of cake in it and globs of chocolate frosting.” His smirk fades before he adds, “This year, I’ll be there alone because I just lost the last person on earth that I love. Len, I’m not telling you all of this to get you to do anything. I’m simply trying to open up because I can’t stand the idea of you feeling like I’m a stranger.” He squeezes my hand. “I’ll tell you whatever it takes to keep you from walking away from me. I don’t know how to explain what you mean to me.”

“Try.” I wiggle my hand free of his and place it on my hip. I’m sure I have an unsettling resemblance to my mom at the moment. I’m even fighting the urge to tap my foot. But I stare into Dex’s eyes and prepare myself to ask the question I’ve been wrestling with for years. “What do I mean to you, Dex?”

He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket. I never paid attention before, but after tonight’s shocking revelation, I can’t help but notice that Dex’s wallet is sleek and black. There’s no huge wad of cash in there. There also aren’t many cards. Just one black card that’s probably as powerful as one hundred high-limit credit cards.

He pulls out a faded folded bill from behind his ID, resting in the dedicated plastic compartment. “Here,” he says, then hands it to me. I see the thick ten on the right corner.

“I’m not a gold digger or anything, but knowing how rich you are, this is kind of insulting.” I smirk.

“So sassy,” he mumbles under his breath. He takes the bill back and unfolds it carefully so I can see the purple nail polish mark at the top right corner. Looking pleased, he places it back in my palm.

It literally feels like the air is sucked out of my lungs. I try to inhale, but nothing happens. “This is?” I ask, somehow managing the two words through my breathlessness.

“From the first time we met. My souvenir,” he says.

There are little tells that he’s nervous. Not on his expression, that’s completely composed. Dex has a bulletproof poker face. It’s how his thumb is subtly twitching, so he tucks it into his fist. His jaw is clenched and he’s so still, like he stopped breathing as well.

I run my finger over the glittery purple nail polish streak. The polish is still vibrant even though the bill looks worse for wear. All this time, he didn’t just keep it.

He kept it close.

I’m stuffed to the brim with conflicting emotions. When they finally burst free, what comes out of my mouth is an awkward, almost-deranged chuckle. “I gave a billionaire ten dollars for beer.”

“What?” Dex asks, his brows furrowing.

“You must’ve thought I was pathetic.”

“Lennox, that ten-dollar bill told me everything I needed to know about you in only one gesture. Look…people typically either like me or hate me for what I have. They judge my worth by what I can or can’t do for them. I’ve had disposable relationships my whole life until you. I think you were the first person to…” He shrugs.

“Like you for you?” I offer.

Nodding, he says, “Something like that. I guess I wanted to keep things simple between us to keep our relationship safe. Losing you just wasn’t an option for me. I’m sorry I was dishonest.”

Dex gently takes the ten-dollar bill out of my hand and then carefully folds it back up exactly as it was. He tucks it back behind his ID card.

“Wait,” I say with a chuckle. “You’re not giving it back? I could use ten dollars. You clearly don’t need it.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “No. Sorry. You can have literally any bill in my bank account except that one. It means way too much to me.”

It only takes one line. Just like that, my fate is sealed.

“Okay, I’m in. I’ll do it.”

“Do what?” he asks, a little glint of hope in his tone.

“I’ll marry you.”

“You’re serious?”

I nod. “Yeah, serious.” I hold out my hand, intent on shaking on it. But Dex doesn’t take it. His eyes are glowing under the flickering streetlamp as he focuses on my face.

“Right now,” he says. “Before we change our minds.”

Dropping my hand, I ask, “Why would you change your mind?”

“I’m about to piss off a lot of people. The lawyers will want a prenup. My execs will be nervous about their positions. Denny will be livid—unless you have an Ivy League degree you haven’t mentioned to me yet.” He laughs absentmindedly.

Who the hell is Denny? “No, definitely not,” I answer.

His smile fades. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll sign a prenup,” I assure him. “I understand you want to protect yourself. I have no ulterior motives. Not to mention, you’re offering me a get-out-of-jail-free card for my life right now. I’m just glad I can help you.”

“That’s exactly why we don’t need one. I trust you, Lennox. You’re the only person I trust. I don’t need a prenup to protect myself or my company from you.” He brushes the tip of his thumb against my cheek. A gesture of affection that feels like way more than friendship, confusing the shit out of me.

Last chance. Run. My logic begs me not to do this. But three years later, I’m still powerless before those hazel eyes.

“Okay, tonight. Let’s go,” I agree.

The flood of nerves starts at the top of my head and seeps down to the very tips of my toes, because after three long years of wrestling with my feelings …

I’m now just minutes away from marrying Dex Hessler.