by Scott, S. L.
“Oh God, yes. So magical.”
My eyes roll back in my head as I fist his hair in one hand and the sheet in the other. “I missed this . . .” I pant heavily. “So much.”
My body succumbs to the sensations, and as soon as the vibrations calm, I pull him up to kiss me again. He does too, like no one’s ever kissed me before—passion, love, and forever built into each caress of our lips.
Before I return from floating from the bliss, he slips away. When he returns, he kisses my collarbone, keeping our words out of this, needing to feel instead of thinking for a while. Covered, he fills me, pulling me into his world to be consumed again. I willingly go, craving that connection deeper than our bodies could ever reach. We make love and create it, nothing lost in the month we were apart but even more intense.
We both find our ecstasy unapologetically quick.
There’s no rush to get up as we lie in each other’s arms right after. It’s the opposite, a desire to lie here forever. Just as my eyes dare to close, his body rattles the bed with laughter, and he asks, “What is that?”
I follow his gaze, and suddenly, a giggle helps to invigorate me again. “That would be a cookie basket.”
He glances at me out of the corners of his eyes before returning to eye the treats. “Is that for me?”
“It was part of my evil plan to get you back.”
Even in the darkened room, I can see his roguish smile—the charmer. Caressing my cheek with the back of his fingers, he leans down and kisses my forehead. “I was always yours, so you didn’t need it.”
“It’s more of a just in case to seal the deal present.”
“Can’t wait to see what kind of cookies you put in there.”
Sliding my arms around his neck again, I bring him to me, and we kiss. “I’m not done with you quite yet.”
“Although I can’t wait until tomorrow—”
“Wait? What happens tomorrow?”
He kisses me gently, and then whispers against my lips, “We start our new life.”
35
Nick
Six months later . . .
Tomorrow turned into forever.
Not legally. At least not yet. Emotionally. Universally. Spiritually. Our souls have already committed. Sure, we skipped a few steps in the making-up process. I don’t think anyone is surprised by that.
Something else that won’t come as a shock is that we didn’t pass over reconnecting physically. We’ve ended up right back where we started—in each other’s arms. But Natalie has a theory—we were great before the contract debacle. So I’ve promised not to let her distract me when dealing with business, and she’s promised not to walk around naked when I’m working from home.
Seemed like a good deal at the time. As she would say, spoiler alert: It sucks. I miss her gracing me with her bare body while I’m working. She has always been a fantastic distraction. It may have gotten us in trouble, but the time apart made us realize that we were worth fighting for and that we’re in this for the long haul of life, plus forever.
I can’t think of a better way to spend eternity than holding this beauty in my arms. Her fingers trace letters on my chest. I’m supposed to be guessing what she’s spelling, but my lids are heavy, exhausted from a long day at the office and then our activity tonight. She asks, “Any guesses?”
“No,” I reply, half-asleep.
“With you.”
I like her answer. Peeking an eye open, I look down at her snuggled to my side. “What was the question?”
“You once asked me where I want to live. My answer is with you, wherever that may be. That’s the only place I care to be.” She’s the most forgiving person I know. I know that wound of betrayal ran deep, but she believed me, and I’ll never forget that. I’d never purposely hurt her, though, and she realizes that as well.
“I discovered where I’m meant to be. That’s with you.”
“Sweet-talker.”
“Sweet on you, but can we sneak in a nap? I have plans for you later and I’m hoping to wake up early to go for a run with you in the morning. All this pasta you’ve been cooking is packing on the pounds.”
Her hand runs over my abs. I tense them for her. She lifts up to see my eyes and says, “You literally don’t have an ounce of fat on you.”
“I’m hard for you.”
“And here I thought I did a good job of wearing you out.” She sits up to get out of bed, but I catch her hand.
“Don’t leave me.”
“Ever, or just not to the bathroom? I’m hoping you mean in the forever sense because I really need to go.”
I release her, chuckling, and ogle that incredible ass of hers. Grabbing her pillow, I cover my face and inhale her lingering scent deep into my lungs. If the perfect wave had a scent, it would smell like Natalie. I don’t even care how creepy that seems.
She’s gone just long enough for me to doze off. When she climbs back into the middle of the bed, I turn to hold her. It’s our favorite way to fall asleep, and just like in Catalina, I find peace with her.
“Nick?”
“Hm?” I mumble.
“I don’t want to go back to New York without you.”
Lifting my head from the mattress, I crack my eyes open again. “I wanted to talk to you about that.” I’m exhausted, but I hate that look of worry in her eyes.
She replies, “Now, if you’re not too tired.”
“I’m never too tired for you.” I rub the corners of my eyes and sneak out a yawn before moving to sit up. I had hoped for a nap before the big plan, but this is more important. She is more important than anything else.
She slides up next to me, and we rest against the headboard with the sheet covering us. I take her hand, and our fingers fall, locking together. I ask, “Do you want to start, or do you want me to go first?”
“You go first.” The quiet manner isn’t fitting for a woman so vividly Technicolor to my bland world.
“I’m supposed to have a call with Andrew and my father this week to discuss if they want me to stay in Seattle or if it’s time to go. Do you want to share your thoughts with me?”
“You know I want you in New York. There’s never been a question about that. It’s just a matter of if you want to live on the West or East Coast and the pros and cons of that.”
“Maybe we need to do a pros and cons list for moving to New York. Pro: we’ll be together all the time. Another pro is your job. It’s important to you and to me. I don’t know if you want to relocate and take your company with you or expand into new territory. I’ll help you no matter what you decide.”
“Con: you don’t have the Pacific Ocean to surf in every morning. Con: you won’t need your Range Rover in the city. Con: you’ll be away from your family.”
I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss it. “Look, the pros for me are cons for you. The cons for me are pros for you. Let’s forget lists. I don’t care about the Pacific, but I’m madly in love with you, Natalie. And if you’re in Manhattan, then that’s where I’ll be.”
“This is all well and good, but I want you happy. Does the New York office even have an opening?”
Smirking, I reply, “It just so happens they never filled Garrett Stans’s position.”
Her lips are tugged to the side and pursed. Shaking her head, she glares as if he’s right in front of her. “That rat bastard.”
I get the anger, but I’ve let it go more than she has. I don’t blame her. I’ve had more time to live with the truth of what really happened. “I might have inquired about the job last month and suggested they leave it open a while longer.”
She curls around me, draping her leg over mine and leaning against me. “Love makes people do crazy things.” Looking up at me, she adds, “We’ve done the long-distance thing, me working from here as much as possible, spending every long weekend we could together. I don’t want to spend my days apart anymore. This might be the most selfish thing I’ve ever said, but I want you with me in New York. All the tim
e.”
I tap her nose. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“Oh no, no. I’m not letting wishes, destiny determine anything, and I’m not leaving it up to fate any longer.” Sitting up, she cups my face, squishing my cheeks. “I love you, Nick. I’m ready for the next stage with you.”
That’s good to hear. She may have given up on destiny, but I’m a firm believer.
I didn’t give Natalie the love story she deserved the first or second time around, but destiny gave me a helpful shove in the ass the third time, and I won’t mess it up. I reach over to the nightstand and pull out the small velvet box.
“This may not be the top of the Empire State Building or on the beach in Malibu. But this is me, nude at the moment, but let’s overlook that aspect.”
Sitting up a little straighter to get a good gander, she dips her gaze down my body, and says, “That’s not easy to do. Compliments to you.” She chef kisses her fingers and winks.
“Though I appreciate the accolade, I saw this going differently.” I start to open the box. But she leans forward, the sheet slipping down, revealing her torso. So beautifully distracting. “You know, I have bad timing.” What was I thinking? I’m sex drunk and all feely. She deserves more. I snap the box closed, refusing to blow my plan. “Let’s do this another time.”
“What? No!” She practically lunges across the bed, grappling for the ring. “Let’s do it now. I’ll be good. No nudity. No jokes. I’m listening.”
I set it on the dresser. “It’s not you. It’s me. I got caught up in the moment.” Grabbing my boxers from the floor, I pull them on.
“It’s okay,” she says, eyeing me.
Her hair is messy, sexy, and her makeup-free face has me wishing I could steal a few more minutes kissing her, but we need to get going. “We have dinner reservations in an hour. We should probably start getting ready.”
That perks her up, and a big smile is flashed. “We do?” She peeks at the ring box and then nods with a squinted eye. “Oh, all right. Yes, I see now.” Clicking her tongue, she adds, “Gotcha.”
“Do you? Because it looks like something is in your eye.”
She rolls her eyes and climbs out of bed. “Very funny. I get the shower first for that comment.”
Rubbing my thumb over my bottom lip, I admire her backside. “My pleasure. Truly.”
Maybe I’m an asshole for making her wait, but she has me doing the stupidest shit without thinking. This time, I want to do it right.
* * *
Holding her hand in the elevator, I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s stunning—her blond hair reminiscent of old Hollywood—sleek with a soft wave cascading in the front, meeting a deep blue spaghetti-strap top that matches her eyes.
And there are those damn tight jeans I thought we burned on the beach one night at the bungalow. Burning her favorite pair was an accident. She didn’t forgive me until I tracked down another pair in Paris and had them shipped over.
Her pink lips and eyes with dark eye shadow have captivated me. I’m tempted to skip the evening affair and take her back upstairs. But the doors slide open, and we’re already walking.
Stopping shy of the revolving door, I glance at her. She’s already staring at me, and asks, “I say we do. What’s the worst that can happen? We get stuck for a few minutes?” She wraps her arm around mine, and says, “Come on. Time to conquer this fear.”
She steps right into it as if she has something to prove. Since I don’t want to squash her, I let the glass slide behind her and step into the next compartment. All is great and we’re moving.
Until we’re not, and I run into the glass, smacking my chin on it. “Damn it.”
Whipping around to find me, she’s like a mime stuck in a box, palming the glass looking to escape. “Nick?”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Stand in the middle.” I give the brass railing a hard shove. The door gives and then seems to lock back.
A security guard races over and tries to pull the next door. When he’s unsuccessful, I hold up my phone and point at it, not sure if he can hear me well or not. “Can you call maintenance, please?”
He runs to the desk and picks up the phone.
* * *
This is not how I saw our night going. In the next compartment, Natalie sits on the ground leaning her back to the curved glass wall. We’ve been sending each other memes to pass the time until help arrives. It’s been over an hour.
I already canceled our reservation since they couldn’t hold it and had nothing else available.
Natalie’s gone to spelling things on the glass and having me guess. I say, “Will.”
She shakes her head and starts spelling another word. I guess, “You.”
Annoyed, she says, “Watch my fingers, Nick.”
I watch, but to her dismay, my next guess of marry doesn’t work for her. And she still doesn’t get it. I’ve given up trying for something unforgettable to ask for her hand in marriage. Being stuck in this damn revolving door is pretty unforgettable. “Me?” I ask.
“Nick, are you playing or not? You’re totally wrong.”
“Depends who you ask. It’s will you marry me, Natalie?”
“No, it’s Saved by the Bell, the TV show.” Covering her mouth, she stares at me through the glass. She raises her palm, and I press mine to hers, the glass between us. Tears fill her eyes, and she finally lowers her hand from her mouth. As her shoulders rock with her soft cries, I get up on one knee.
Those tears fall down her cheeks, and she presses both hands to the glass. “The stars realigned for us. We fought our destiny and made the mistake of walking away. But I’ve learned that every time we follow our hearts, we’re never led astray.” Holding the box open, the three-carat, Asher-cut diamond sparkles under the bright lights of the revolving door.
I take it out of the box and tuck it under the space between the glass wall and the door that separates us. She takes the ring and stares in awe. When her eyes return to me, I say, “I love you more than anything. Will you marry me, Natalie?”
Slipping the ring on her finger, she says, “Yes.”
Epilogue
Natalie
We’re not the most traditional couple out there. We live by our own rules, and that’s what I love about us. Today, we humored our loved ones and had a ceremony for them to share in the day.
Sure, we could have jetted off to Timbuktu to get the perfect social media-worthy wedding photo, walked down a long aisle at an historical church in Manhattan, or followed in my parents’ footsteps and said our I do’s at The Plaza.
Eloping would have been romantic, but every night, I go to bed next to this handsome, once-stranger, now husband is like living a fairy tale. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. So, returning to the scene of the crime on Catalina—the island, not the hotel room, though I wouldn’t have minded that if I can be frank with you—fit us best.
Standing beneath a pink Nick & Natalie neon sign, my husband caresses my face. It doesn’t matter that we’re surrounded by friends and family. He comes so close that I forget we’re not alone. I tilt my head up ready to be kissed by this incredible man. For only my ears, he whispers, “You were the best catch I ever made.”
Happiness isn’t a word that covers how I’m feeling. I smile, staring into the sunrise of his golden-brown eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
When his smile grows even wider, those dimples digging deep into his cheeks, he says, “You know what comes next?”
I want to roll my eyes, but I don’t. I embrace him even tighter, and reply, “Go ahead and say it. You know you’ve been dying to.”
“I do. I do, baby.” Slipping his arms around my waist, he says, “I do forever with you.”
“Good. I do, too.”
Under sunset skies on the edge of an Avalon cliff, we kiss, sealing our fates forever together before heading to our reception up the hill.
Inside the bar where we met, I sit on the tablecloth-covered co
unter and take a bite of my first In-N-Out burger. Did anyone really expect us to have our reception catered by another place? Instead of a chocolate fountain, we have a french fry tower, and a buffet table with every variety of cookie imaginable. Though my husband’s favorite is the double chocolate chunk. I’m thinking those are the cookies that led to the proposal. I’ve taken notes for my clients.
Nick stands in front of me, biting his lip nervously as though I’m performing surgery. I rest a hand on his shoulder, and say, “It’s delicious.”
Like a proud papa, he announces, “She likes it.” Everyone carries on with their celebrating, not worried with our antics.
Tugging him by the lapels of his tuxedo, I say, “Come here. Let me kiss you, dear husband.”
Our kisses are NSFW, not suitable for weddings . . . or receptions. “I can’t wait for our honeymoon.”
“A week at our bungalow, totally unplugged from the rest of the world. Only you and me, babe.” I pick up my cocktail and take a sip, the rum going down way too smoothly.
“Sounds like heaven.”
“It’s the best gift ever. I don’t know that thank you is enough. Your parents were very generous.”
Clinking his glass against mine, he says, “Don’t fall for their tricks, dear wife. Cookie wants grandkids while she’s young.”
“The plot thickens.” I giggle. Glancing over at his brother and date, I ask, “How does Andrew feel about us getting the beach house?”
Nick turns to locate him. “He gets their house. They’re downsizing. It may be bigger, but real estate on the beach in Malibu is more valuable, so they’re about even.”
“Tatum already told me not to throw the bouquet to her, so maybe I’ll toss it to Dalen.”
