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Keep Vegas

Page 30

by Kelly Kay

“Did you kill his dog or something? Eat the last of the Cheerios?” He is laughing and tickling me to stop me. I keep going. “Put the milk carton back empty? Did you lose all the office furniture in one of your dumb bets?” He flinches, and I know I’m getting closer.

“I’m getting divorced again. Let’s just say my relationships have cost a bit more than our Eiffel Tower night.”

I shake my hands out. “Damn.”

He grins and pulls me back. “Tell me something true,” he says, and it stings slightly, given how truthful I’ve been tonight.

“My parents are doing great. It’s been a long struggle with health for them, but we’re getting there.”

He holds me close. I let my head rest on his chest, and he kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

“It’s fine.” He drops it, and we sit for another minute wrapped up in each other.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Indefinable.”

“I like that.”

“Tell me about your twenty-fifth birthday.”

Truth: My mom was in hospital suffering from complications of a heart procedure. A fun time brought on by her lack of activity and consuming too much over the years with no regard for how it would affect her, my father, or me. But I lie so I don’t get his sympathy kiss again.

The lie: “Mags and I went to New York. It was kind of low key. And then we went out to the Hamptons for a shoot I was on and got to stay on the property.” I’m like an improv savant.

His eyes light up. “Where?”

“East Hampton.” Is that a place? Shit. Abort. “What about your twenty-fifth?”

“I was on a honeymoon.”

“Which wife?” I wonder if he had fun.

“Number two. She was a peach. The nastiest, most expensive divorce to date, but the new one may outdo her. Granted, I was only married for about ten months to number two. Laura has three and a half years under her belt between dating and marriage.”

I move to face him. He sits up, too, and pulls out chocolate. His face is chiseled, and the angles welcome the light as dawn breaks. I want him to know me. It’s not what I should say, but it’s what I can say right now.

“Tony.”

“Makenzie. I don’t like the tone you’re taking.”

I move out of his touch. “Someday, will you tell me about what happened when you, well, got my text?”

“Probably not, since I don’t like to revisit it. But do you need to tell me something?” That chiseled, vulnerable face somehow tightens and closes up a bit.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He puts his hand on my knee. I keep blurting out my apology. “My life was messier than you know and there wasn’t a place for me or you. And we were… I don’t know. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I don’t regret doing it, only the way I did it. I should have faced you, and I’m so sorry I hurt us both so badly.”

He says nothing for a minute. “That won’t help.”

“What?”

He smirks. “It won’t help that I’m paying off a bevy of women who I connected my life to in order to get over you. The way I see it, you owe me a ton of cash.” I push out a small laugh. He squeezes my hand. “Not tonight, ok?”

Leaning over, I kiss him softly. We’re still not opening our mouths, but the connection is there, if not the lust. I snuggle into him again. It’s not absolution, but it’s a start. Even if we never go past this moment, there’s a bit of closure for eighteen-year-old Makenzie, and I hope for him, too. I didn’t apologize for being selfish, or maybe I did. It doesn’t matter tonight. Just the feel, smell, and comfort of him matters.

“Do the words prenup mean anything to you?” He laughs and sits up, cracking open a bottle of sparkling water. I take it from him and sip.

“This one has one, but she’s crafty. Should be even more money to fight it than to pay her off.” He seems resigned and I hope I didn’t do that too. Dampen his spirit. That’s not Tony. I stand up on the car carefully, and he holds my legs. I hoist my water, and it splashes a bit.