_OceanofPDF

3 1
L O G A N
Estella Papillion. My wife. Soon after I slept in her bed, I stopped
thinking of our marriage as fake. In the month since, we’d woken up
together every morning, and every night I came home as soon as I could
because that was where she was.
I’d been wrong about marriage. It wasn’t a role. Nor was it a proper
division of duties. Marriage was knowing that no matter what happened,
she existed in the world. Our world.
“What are you looking at?” Ella asked as Loranda opened the back of
the car for her.
“My wife.” I put my hand on the door, and my driver—our driver—
retreated to get behind the wheel.
“Not the dress?” She swung her hips, and the pleats in the skirt rose
above her knees, opening to reveal bright pink fabric that glittered.
“The…?” It was one of her father’s that she’d pulled from a closet in
Bianca’s office. “No. It’s nice, but it’s not the dress. It’s you.”
“Careful,” she said. “Or you might get laid tonight.”
I traced the length of her collarbone. “If there’s a Ferrari parked in the
garage, it’s a guarantee.”
Her mouth curled in a knowing smile, and she got in the car. I sat next
to her and closed the door, arm around her as we pulled into the street to
Bel-Air. I kissed the diamond in her nose.
Estella Papillion was my wife. My partner.
If she left me, she’d rip half my world off with her.