is a daily occurrence, but almost like some creepy thing I expect.
“Well, thought you should know about this,” he mutters unhappily. “Figured you already knew and celebrated.” He looks around the McMansion and grinds his teeth. “Must be a rich sugar daddy with nice digs—”
“Do you talk to all women this way, or is Ladybug just special?” Francis scolds, joining the commotion between me and Wes. His eyes are dark and hardened. The usual soft exterior of the man who’s saved me from being homeless is nowhere to be found. He looks two seconds away from ripping Wes apart. If not with his handsomely striking looks, it’d be with the power behind his words.
“You must be Toby, Josey’s husband.”
My mouth falls agape at the words Wes purposely unloads. Francis’s eyes shoot to mine. Intrigue and betrayal glittering in the pretty gray storms residing there.
I shake my head, hoping he can read the he’s insane look. It has to be a joke. Has to be.
“Ah, no. I’m Francis. Her, as you blatantly slurred, sugar daddy.” He adds a thick French accent and directs a saucy look my way. It warms me. Since moving in here, Francis and I decided to stay friends and save Gray the hurt of seeing her best friend and Dad doing more than just talking. I mean, it’d be hot and sensual, no doubt, but Gray means a great deal to me. Him, too.
Wes’s face is comical, his jaw open and wide. “You really are a whore—” he starts, but Francis stops him.
“It’s time for you to leave. We don’t appreciate name-calling in this household, especially not from the likes of a beach bum.”
I smile gratefully at Francis, loving that he said something before I could make an ass of myself and charge Wes. “Goodbye, Wesley. Again. Next time, just don’t.”
“Josey—”
“No. This conversation and any remnants of our friendship are over. Leave.”
He walks out, and I watch as the two guards make sure he’s escorted off the premises. Francis doesn’t let anything slip.
“What did he mean when he said husband?” His eyebrow hitches up, and it’s almost like he bites the inside of his cheek.
“Honestly, I don’t know. He gave me this document and said it showed up at his place. It looks legit enough, but I don’t recall ever getting married.” Handing him the piece of paper, I watch as Francis’s eyes widen. Awareness and apprehension lick his features, coating them with disbelief and annoyance. It’s the same expression he had at that dinner with Toby. The one where he fucked me and ran off.
I thought it’d be different. That we’d hit it off. He called me his, and since then, I can’t tell you how many times my BOB brought me pleasure with him in mind. That night blew my expectations. More. That’s what I want.
“You married Toby,” he whispers, his voice solemn. The subversiveness hurts to hear. It almost slices through me like my favorite knife does through vegetables.
“It must be a joke. My dad has been on my case, wanting me to help with his campaign by getting married, so he probably did this. Made me have a leg to stand on. Maybe it’s his attempt to force my hand.”
“I promise you this, Ladybug. This is real. It’s as legitimate as it gets. You’re married. To my best friend, no less.” His face pales. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?” The hurt isn’t something he can mask. It’s right there on his forehead and in the long frown he probably doesn’t realize he’s wearing. It’s in the way his eyes seem lost and perturbed, but mostly, it’s in the way he holds himself like it’s ruining everything.
“He couldn’t have... could he? Why wouldn’t he say something?”
“Maybe it was a game. Either way, you two need to discuss this, and I definitely need a fucking drink.”
I stare at him with a deep sadness. Disappointing people you care about sucks, especially when they never swear and can’t resist the urge. He lets the document fall to the floor before heading to his wet bar. Fuck. I really messed up this time and don’t even know what to do.
“Y-You’re what?” Gray asks an hour later after she gets home, her face pale, a perfect match to her father’s. Almost like she’s as shocked as I am.
“Married. Toby and I apparently got married that night in Vegas.”
“Jesus Christ, Joey. This is insane. You married my uncle.”
“I’m just as shocked as you are,” I grab the bottle of Goose