Long: A Secret Baby Sports Romance(88)

“About that,” I said. “We’re not taking the car.”

“I am not walking in these heels.”

“Don’t worry, princess. We’re taking my bike.”

She gaped at me for a second and then shook her head. “No. No way. I’m not getting on the back of that thing.”

I walked over to it and tossed her a helmet. She caught it, but barely. “Come on. I thought you liked motorcycles?”

She walked over. “That was just for show,” she hissed. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“Better get on,” I whispered. “Your father is watching us from the window.”

She moved to look but stopped herself. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Fine,” she said, and she slipped the helmet on without another word.

I climbed onto the bike and she got on the back.

“Hold on tight,” I said as I kicked the bike to life. “Now wave to daddy,” I said.

We waved to her father as I slowly pulled the bike out into traffic.

She gripped my body like steel. I could tell she had never been on the back of a bike before in her life, which only made it that much better. Unfortunately, the restaurant wasn’t too far away, and so I couldn’t really open it up and get some speed at any point.

Still, I was surprised that she had gotten on without too much of a fight. Sure, she didn’t instantly jump on the back, but who would in her situation? I was just impressed that she didn’t throw a fit. I had her pegged as a rich little daddy’s girl, but maybe there was more lurking under that exterior.

That fucking too damn sexy exterior.

I parked the bike and we walked a half block to the restaurant. It was an expensive place, clearly new, and was some kind of Italian fusion place. I didn’t much care since anything was better than the shit I had eaten in Thailand. We were seated pretty fast and had drinks in front of us almost faster.

“Not bad,” I said, looking around. “Cindy knows how to pick them.” I sipped my whisky.

“I can’t believe we even got into this place. It just opened last week, and the wait list is months out.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “What a waste.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom could probably make anything happen, but she wastes that shit on good reservations.”

“This is really nice of her, you know.”

“It is, but don’t get used to it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I considered telling her the whole truth about Cindy. I considered telling her that Cindy had been a controlling psycho my entire childhood, barely letting me out of the house. I was homeschooled and didn’t have any friends my own age for a very long time. She had been oppressive and insane ever since my dad had died of cancer when I was two, probably because she was afraid of losing me, at least on some level.

I didn’t know if she was insanely controlling because of his death or if she had always been that way. I suspected it had always been there and was just aggravated by his death. That controlling drive served her very well in her business positions, but it made her a monster at home.

But Alexa didn’t need to know any of that. It was just some shitty, sad story from my past. I got out of that house when I turned eighteen, and I never bothered looking back.

“Cindy can be tough,” I said simply.

“She’s the CEO of a huge company. Of course she can.”

I just shrugged and sipped my whisky, not bothering to argue.

“Anyway,” I said, “here’s to you and me. Husband and wife, finally back together.”

She made a face and sighed, clinking her glass to mine. “I actually have a surprise for you,” she said.

“Great. Is it your panties?”

“What? No, it’s not my panties.”

“That’s a shame. If it were, I’d take you back into that fancy bathroom and fuck you until we got kicked out or you came, whichever happened first.”

She ignored me, digging into her bag. She slowly pulled out a thick, crinkled-looking piece of paper.

“Here it is,” she said triumphantly.

“What’s that?”

“Proof.” She held it out.

I took it and unfolded it. I looked at it for half a second before bursting out laughing. It was an official marriage license, signed by the two of us plus the priest from Thailand.

“What’s funny?” she said, annoyed.

“Alex,” I said, handing her back the paper, “I know we’re married.”

She stared at me for a second. “What?”

“I believed you as soon as you showed this to me on your laptop.”

“You asshole!”

She was furious, but I couldn’t help but grin at her. I couldn’t tell if she was going to storm out of the restaurant and get a cab back home, throw her drink in my face, or both. I took a deep sip of my whisky, savoring the delicious taste since I suspected it was going to be my last drink before I got tossed out.