Nova: I hate you so much.
Raelynn: Naughty Nova came out to dance after too many Vodka Gimlets last night, and he was doing an Instagram Live, inviting fans to join him and talk. I maaaaaay have requested to join under her name, and he maaaaaay have accepted, and I maaaaaay have shown her shaking her ass while she rapped out Missy Elliot.
Nova: Seriously…the worst friend ever.
Raelynn: You’re spelling best friend wrong.I laughed, looking over their exchange this morning, wanting to FaceTime them and hear all about what happened.
“What’s so funny?”
Nico walked in, sweatpants back in place, his hair damp and pushed back carelessly, somehow still looking perfect.
“Just the girls.”
“Tell them I said hi.”
“Umm…okay?”
“What?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Well, they’re your friends. You’re my wife. Your friends are important to you, so it’s in my best interest to be friendly with them.”
“Oh…well, thank you.”
He nodded and almost sat down when a knock at the door announced our food.
They rolled the carts in, placing the silver domes on the long table so quickly and quietly, it was like they weren’t even there.
Again, I found myself wondering about the kind of money Nico had. My family did well, but we didn’t stay in penthouse suites of one of the top hotels in New York. We didn’t have silent butlers deliver our food in a way only an obscene amount of money could buy. I’d done research on his company, and it had barely dipped their toe into international shipping, but his wealth screamed worldwide success.
He poured himself a cup of coffee—no cream or sugar—and sat down, pushing a plate of pancakes and bacon my way.
“So, do you have any friends I should be friendly with?”
He chewed his bacon and watched me, thinking over his answer. I was having a moment on our first day of marriage, realizing that I still knew so little about him.
Not that it mattered. Our agreement was for a purpose, and that purpose wasn’t to know every little detail about each other. This was business.
“I have Ryan.”
“Your assistant?”
“Yeah, who else?”
“A Ryan you don’t pay?” He looked perplexed, and I wanted to laugh that he was so thrown by me asking him about friends. “Do you have any friends you get drinks with? Hang out with? Went to school with?”
“I have acquaintances I get drinks with.”
“Jesus, Nico. Do you talk to anyone outside of work?” I asked, laughing.
“I have a friend from college, Xander. But he works just as much as I do and does most of his business overseas. Which was why he couldn’t attend the wedding.”
“Oh. Maybe I could meet him sometime.”
“Sure. The next time he’s in town. I think he’s just as intrigued to meet you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He wants to know the woman who could make me settle down.”
“Did you not plan on ever marrying?”
He took another bite, his brows dropping. “I didn’t think about it. I was so focused on work and building my business, I never considered anything beyond that. And then my grandpa’s health declined, and he pushed his desire to see me with a family on me, and then…you came crashing in.”
“I’d hardly call it crashing.”
“You did bump into me,” he joked.
“Oh, my god. I did not.”
“Is this going to be like Ross and Rachel and the whole break thing, where we argue about who was right and wrong for years to come?”
“One—I’m right. You were drunk and looking at your phone. Two—I still can’t get over that you watched Friends.”
“I had the flu last winter and happened to start it on Netflix and ended up watching it the whole way through.”
“It happens,” I said, nodding in understanding. “So, what are we doing with all our stuff?”
“We’ll leave it at the front desk. I have someone picking it up to take it to the house.”
“What airline are we flying with?”
“It’s a private jet Xander and I share and rent out on occasion.”
“You have your own plane?” I asked, my brows shooting high.
“It’s not like it’s a seven-forty-seven.”
“Still. I’ve never been on a private plane before.”
Giddiness flooded through me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The more I imagined driving right up to the plane and walking up the steps to the soft buttery leather, a flight attendant bringing me champagne and strawberries, the happier I got. A giggle slipped free, and I bit my lip to hold back any more.
He watched me like he saw something he’d never seen before, and I heated under his inspection.
“I’m glad I’ll get to be your first.”
He finished the innuendo with a wink, and between the night before, the pancakes, the happiness, and playfulness, something clicked in place. Something that lay with the other shards of my life in my chest snapped together with another one and eased some of the pressure.
It’s slow, bambino. A marriage born from a merger isn’t scary. It may not be the princesses you love to watch, but it has its own magic. Kind of like Beauty and the Beast. She did it for more than herself—for her family. Our business and our traditions are our family. We must respect them. This marriage may start off with resentment and a begrudging respect, but with time and patience, it grows. One sharp piece at a time, the marriage comes together, and before you realize it even happened, you love each other and can’t imagine ever not.