Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)(44)

“Let’s start by taking you to lunch. Somewhere really fancy. Tripp, do you think Enzo could get us in at the—”

“You know,” Karl says. “I have always wanted to go to that place. You know the hotel. The really tall one with the restaurant and the zip line.”

“The Strat?” My voice squeaks. I pretend it didn’t happen. The thing most people don’t know about me, because they don’t need to, is I’m terrified of heights.

Planes aren’t great, but I can close the window shade and focus on my phone, and buildings like Tripp’s are fine because they’re not enormous. We’re only twelve stories up here.

It’s a world of difference from getting in an elevator, traveling higher and higher only to be spat out in a building that I swear to God is constantly swaying and looks on top of the world.

Tripp must pick up on my panic. “Sorry, Dad, I think that one will be booked out.”

“Not for us,” I manage. If my father-in-law wants Top of the World, he’s going to get it. And I will one hundred percent keep my cool and not focus at all on what would happen if the building suddenly collapses. “I’ll make the call.”

And one unfortunate part of being well-known is that as soon as I say Tripp and Dex Mitchale—the superior spelling—there’s a table for four waiting.

Fantastic.

I grab some clothes from the guest room and go to change in Tripp’s.

He follows me inside. “Enzo’s would have been fine.”

“Nope. Not for my in-laws. They get whatever they want.”

“We should have told them the truth.”

I turn to him, worried I’ve screwed up again. “Should we?”

He shrugs. “The thing is, I don’t really know what the truth is anymore.”

“We accidentally got married, and until last night we were still best friends, but then you sucked my dick and I kinda want to try it too?”

He laughs. “Yeah. So telling the truth is out, then.”

“Fair enough.”

Before he can move toward his bathroom, I grab him and pull him against me. My lips find his neck and the red marks I left there last night. Seeing my marks against Tripp’s freckles makes me want to leave more. All over.

“People will see us today,” he points out. “You okay with that?”

“The only difference I see is that instead of doing this—” I kiss his cheek. “—I’ll be doing this.” My lips meet his, and we share a soft, slow kiss.

He lets out a shuddery breath as he pulls back. “Okay. I think you’ll be fine.”

And I am.

With the relationship stuff.

But when we pull up at the Strat, and I tilt my head back to look at the top of the building, I think I’m going to wet myself.

“You all right?” Tripp asks as we climb out of the car.

I grab his hand and squeeze tight. “Don’t let me die.”

“You have more chance of choking on lunch than falling off the building.”

“But you’re saying there’s still a chance?”

I purposely chose a black button-up to hide the sweat marks, but a quick glance in the elevator mirror shows the black isn’t doing a whole lot. Tripp doesn’t drop my hand, and the higher we go, the higher those numbers on the display climb, the more unsettled I get.

I can do this.

I can do this.

The elevator doors finally ping open, and we step out into the foyer.

But the second I glimpse the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows, my feet freeze.

I can’t do this.

“Dex …” Tripp whispers as his parents approach the concierge.

“I’m good. I’m fine. Could you just carry me, maybe?” Because I really can’t get my feet to move.

He forcefully pulls me after him, and I stagger along, my feet feeling like they’re filled with lead.

“A seat furthest from the windows,” Tripp tells the man behind the counter.

“We reserved you the best view of the city.”

“Yeah, look, I’m scared of heights, and Dex forgot to mention it when he booked. Any chance of being moved?”

“We can make it work. And congratulations on your marriage.”

That almost makes me feel better. Almost. At least it would if I didn’t feel like I was going to hurl all over the floor.

Another server shows up to lead us to our table, and I keep my gaze trained on our joined hands and trust Tripp to lead me. I know the fear will settle the longer we’re up here, but I can’t stop picturing the glass disappearing and us all tipping out the side.

“Since when are you scared of heights?” Mira asks as the server hands out menus and leaves.

“Not me. My husband.”

Karl turns to me. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I cringe. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine. This is fine. I just wish they’d make the building stop swaying.”

“The building isn’t swaying,” Tripp points out.

“Then why do I feel like I’m going to fall off my chair?”

Mira finally gives me that indulgent look I’m so used to seeing from her. “You really do get yourself into the worst situations, don’t you, Dex?”