Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)(36)

“Yep. We have everything we need.”

I hurry to get changed so I can get to the car to meet Dex, but when I get there, he’s nowhere to be found. Dammit. He should have known I’d come straight after him, which means if he’s not embarrassed or feeling stupid, he’s back to guilty again.

I’m about to turn around and check out the rest of the building when my phone chimes in my pocket.

I caught an Uber home. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.

I hate that he’s laying the blame firmly on his own shoulders when he really doesn’t need to. This is my mistake as much as it is his, but with everything in overdrive—it breaking in the press, us suddenly having to pretend we’re a real couple—it’s like we’re constantly bombarded with the reminder that we made a mistake, and Dex is adamant about taking responsibility.

I didn’t have to say yes to fake marrying him.

We keep dancing around what it really means to be married in the public eye, what we’re going to have to endure, and this was only our first taste of it.

I get home, and as soon as I walk through the door, Dex glances up at me from his spot on the couch. His deep brown eyes are glossy, he looks so distraught, and I don’t give a shit about anything else we have going on. All I want is to make him feel better. I march over to Dex, and without warning, I tackle him on the couch.

“What are you—”

I blow a huge raspberry on his neck, and he squirms to get away from me while laughing uncontrollably. He laughs so hard he can’t breathe, and the sound is like coming home.

“There’s my Dex,” I say and lift up but stay on top of him.

His happiness fades. “What do you mean?”

“This whole situation is fucking with us, and it’s a mess, and I hate it, but we need to find a way to make it work.”

Dex shifts so he’s sitting up again, and I move to do the same, planting my ass next to him on the couch.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to make it work. And I didn’t know I’d …” He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Get hard while straddling me? It was a physical reaction, that’s all. It’s fine.”

“I want to say this is really hard, but I know what your response will be.”

“It is hard. So hard. We can’t cock it up.” I joke, but it’s true. I was managing my feelings for Dex, and now he’s being thrust at me more than ever. “But every time you blame yourself for this situation, I can’t help thinking that’s your way of wanting to give up. I’m expecting you to change your mind and take the trade any minute. And that would be worse than if it got out.”

Dex turns to me. “I don’t want to take the trade. But I can’t stand the thought of you being dragged into whatever backlash if it happens. I’m an asshole.”

“Yes. You’re a complete monster. How dare you agonize over the possibility of hurting my feelings! You’re the worst!”

He hangs his head. “It would kill me if this hurt you, because I’m not lying when I say you’re the most important person in my life.”

“I know. And that’s why I think we need to let this go. I don’t blame you, and you can’t either. Husbands face things together, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Move on,” Dex murmurs.

“Yep. Starting with a night off from being married.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s how marriages work.”

“Well, the thing about marriage is we get to choose what we’re allowed and not allowed to do in ours. And I say, instead of being husbands tonight, we need to go back to being best friends. We should focus on that instead of our ‘marriage.’”

“You don’t mean to hook up …”

“Fuck no.” As much as I love sex, I also hate knowing Dex is having sex with someone who isn’t me.

“Then how do we do that?”

“Margarita Mondays at that horribly decorated Mexican hole-in-the-wall that has amazing food.”

Dex finally gets some of his usual spark back. “Oh, I am in.”





While Dex scarfs his sixth taco for the night, I sit across from him, buzzing from all the margaritas.

This is exactly what we needed.

For the first time since this whole mess started, we actually feel like us again.

As long as I pretend not to notice the strange looks he occasionally throws my way.

“Okay, I have a question for you,” Dex says around a mouthful of food. “Would you rather have a one-night stand with a woman or have sex with the entire queer collective at the same time?”

I lift my drink. “I would rather drink this and not answer that question.”

“Is it because you’ve already done the second one?”

I choke on my drink. “I most certainly have not, fuckyouverymuch. I have standards.”

“I dunno. You’re married to me, so that doesn’t exactly back your theory.”

Hey, at least we’re joking about it now. “True. Let me ask you something, then. Would you rather a one-night stand with a guy or fuck the entire … oh, wait, having sex with multiple girls at once would be your dream. Ooh, I’ve got it. One-night stand with a guy or have sex with Sienna?”