by Kendall Ryan
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Layne look so worried before. So I take a breath, reaching under the table to squeeze her knee before looking back at Kristen. “It’s been a long time coming, but Layne and I are seeing each other. I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you until now. It’s been a complicated situation, and we weren’t sure if it was going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry,” Layne blurts out, more agitated than I think I’ve ever seen her. “I should have told you a while ago, but like Griffin said, I was just trying to figure out if it all meant anything. I feel so horrible for keeping it from you. Please don’t hat—,”
“And does it?” Kristen interrupts, expressionless.
Layne and I exchange a confused look.
“Does it what?” Layne asks, her voice so tight, I want to hug her.
“Does it mean anything?” Kristen reaches across the table, taking one of our hands in each of hers, and I can feel the tension draining from Layne next to me.
“Yes,” she says with a big, relieved sigh. “It means everything. Griffin means everything to me.”
I can’t help the stupid grin that takes over my face.
Suddenly, Kristen releases our hands, throwing her fists in the air with a triumphant cheer. “Waiter! Waiter!” she cries, waving her arms. “Can we get some champagne over here?”
Layne laughs. “I don’t know if they do cham—”
“Oh, they’d better!” Kristen cries, reaching across the table to pinch one of my cheeks and Layne’s.
“Ow,” I say with a groan. I can’t say I expected this reaction.
“You guys don’t know it yet, but you just saved my honeymoon!”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“So, don’t be mad, but Max and I had a bet. Since it was obvious that you two were hooking up, we put a bet on whether or not you would start actually dating at some point.”
“Are you serious?” Layne’s jaw drops. “I thought we were being discreet . . .”
Kristen barks out a laugh. “Hardly.”
“What were the stakes?” I ask, so proud of my sister for this absurd intrusion of privacy.
“So, if you didn’t start dating, we would spend our honeymoon on a beach somewhere stupid,” she says with an eye roll. “But, if you did start dating, like I thought you would, we would spend our honeymoon hiking in the mountains!”
My sister is practically bouncing with excitement. While Layne and I stare in complete shock and wonder, Kristen shovels french toast into her mouth, humming happily.
“Now,” she mutters through a mouthful of breakfast, “I get to wear those Lululemon hiking leggings I bought last year.”
“I’m so happy for you,” Layne deadpans, and I snort.
She’s probably annoyed that she wasted so much emotional energy fretting about this conversation. Who knew it would be this easy?
“Thanks,” Kristen says with a wink. “You guys are so fucking cute together. Don’t ever break up.”
I smile, taking Layne’s hand. “Don’t plan to.”
23
* * *
LAYNE
“How’s the ravioli? Everything you ever dreamed of?” Griffin’s voice coaxes me out of my happy place, his turquoise eyes dancing in amusement at what I’m sure is an almost orgasmic look on my face.
“Heavenly. When you said you had something special planned for us, I had no idea you’d be feeding me the best Italian food I’ve ever had in my life. How did you find this place again?” I ask before putting another bite of the most delicious spinach-and-ricotta ravioli in my mouth.
“One of our clients is the owner. I guess her great-grandparents opened it years ago, shortly after arriving in America, and it’s been in the family ever since. Seemed like the perfect place for a date night to me.”
“Date night.” I smile, tilting my head to the side and reaching for his hand over the white tablecloth. “I’ve got to say, it’s nice to not have to be sneaking around all the time anymore.”
“Turns out there are all kinds of things you can do once you’re an official couple,” he says, lacing his fingers between mine as he flashes me a devilish grin. “But you have to admit, the sneaking around was hot as hell.”
I chuckle at him and shake my head. “Are you worried we’ll lose the spark now that we’ve gone public?” I pull my hand away and arch a challenging brow, crossing my arms and resting my elbows on the table, aware of how this movement will show off my already ample cleavage even more.
“Just say the word, and I’ll meet you in the bathroom for a quickie.”
We both laugh, and he reaches across the table to rub his calloused thumb along my cheek, sending a whole flurry of butterflies swarming low in my belly.
You’d think that our history together would make our relationship feel as normal as anything else—and in some ways it does. We got to skip the awkward getting to know you phase, as well as the part where you learn each other’s quirks, both good and bad. But surprisingly enough, since we’ve made our relationship official, our connection feels as fresh and exciting as ever. Even more so because we now know exactly where each other stands. And since Griffin started working for a new architecture firm downtown and has gotten busier, our time together feels even more precious.
As Griffin sips his wine, I take a moment to admire this man I love—his straight nose, his cheekbones, his perfectly chiseled jaw accentuated by the slightest hint of a five o’clock shadow. It sometimes still blows my mind that I’m the woman he wants to be with. It’s not an issue of self-esteem—I know how amazing I am, and he makes damn sure to tell me.
“So, have you decided what you want to do about the appointment? I think we should just hear what the doctor has to say,” he says, resting his elbows on the table.
Leave it to Griffin to practically read my mind and ask a question that totally blows any doubts I have about our relationship out of the water.
I sigh, pushing my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know, babe, a fertility clinic? I get what Dr. Trager was saying; I’m no spring chicken. And I know that I want kids, but jumping straight into fertility counseling feels so . . . defeatist. Maybe I should just reschedule.”
I’ve had this appointment set up since before we started dating. It was something I felt the need to explore, but now that we’re together, I feel less sure. I don’t want to drag Griffin through this.
“I hear you, but I think it might be good to just go. At the very least, we can get some information and prepare for the future. Nothing definite has to happen right now.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. But that doesn’t change the way I feel.
“I’m just so worried that the second I walk in there, it’s going to be bad news after more bad news. I already know that my age is an issue. What if there’s something else wrong with my body that I don’t even know about?”
“Babe, your body is perfect. Dr. Trager said he’s hopeful it will all go smoothly,” Griffin says, taking my hand again and squeezing it. “No matter what life throws at us, we’re together. I’ll always be right there by your side and we’ll weather it all together.” Tears well up in the corners of my eyes as he speaks. I know it sounds cheesy, but hearing him say those things out loud—even though he’s expressed them before—means the world to me.
“I love you,” I say, leaning across the table for a kiss. “Remind me again why we didn’t just get together and get this ball rolling earlier?”
He arches an eyebrow and raises his hand in the air. “I was on board from the second I laid eyes . . . and hands on you. Someone just took a while to come around.”
“Yeah, well, someone else had quite a bit of growing up to do, if I remember correctly.” I smile.
We hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and soon we’re both smiling. There’s no point in playing the should have, would have game. We’re together now, and that’s all that matters.
Besides, I’m totally right about
the growing-up part.
The next morning, the two of us are sitting in a waiting room, minimally decorated with pale yellow walls, steel-gray furniture, and a corkboard full of baby pictures covering one of the walls.
Nerves fill my stomach as a thousand worried thoughts race through my mind. I can feel myself starting to spiral out of control with anxiety, so I quickly grab one of the pamphlets on the table in front of me at random and flip it open, only to be faced with way too much information about fertility, which only stresses me out more.
Just as I’m on the verge of panicking, Griffin places a calming hand on my knee and leans over to kiss me on the cheek. “Hey, you okay?”
I take a deep breath and nod slowly. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. The reality of everything is just hitting me all at once, I think.”
“No matter what happens, I’m here. You know that, right?”
I keep nodding, grab his hand, and squeeze tight. Honestly, it’s strange how much I’m freaking out right now. I own my own law firm, for goodness’ sake. You’d think I’d know how to manage stress by now.
It’s going to be fine, right? It has to be.
After a few moments of deep breathing, and with Griffin’s calming voice and presence by my side, I already start to feel a little better. As my thoughts begin to slow down, I take in the other patients waiting with us.
There are a couple of women who are visibly pregnant—one who looks about ready to pop, and another who’s just starting to show. The first woman has a partner with her, a woman, holding her hand and flipping through an important-looking folder. The other woman, though, the one who’s just starting to show, is all on her own, and my heart breaks a little for her. Sure, I don’t know her story. Maybe she has a partner who just couldn’t make it to this appointment with her. But the thought that she might be going through her own fertility journey with no one by her side, no one to hold her hand, makes me incredibly grateful for the partner I’ve found in Griffin, and how encouraging and helpful he’s been to me already.
“Thank you.” I turn and place a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t think I’d be able to do this without you.”
“No, thank you. I know you were unsure about coming here, and I’m proud of you for following through with this. And for letting me be a part of it.”
Our lips meet again, and when we part, I lay my head on his shoulder.
“Besides,” he says, running his fingers over my upper arm. “I’ve got a few questions of my own for this doctor.”
“Oh, you do, do you?”
“Mm-hmm. Let’s just say she and I need to have a little chat about superpowers.”
We laugh, and I swat his chest with the back of my hand.
“Behave in there,” I warn.
“You’re the boss,” he replies, raising his hands in surrender.
“Layne Anderson?” The nurse reads my name from her clipboard, looking up and searching the room.
I wave, and she motions for us to join her. Griffin and I turn to look at each other, his eyebrows raised, a smile forming on his lips.
“You ready?”
I place a kiss on his lips and give his hand a firm squeeze. “Let’s do this.”
24
* * *
GRIFFIN
Sunlight streams in through the stained-glass windows, pouring a rainbow of colors on us. Standing across from Layne in this church is a truly spiritual experience.
Her long dress touches the floor, and her hair hangs in loose waves over her bare shoulders. Her eyes are bright and clear. She’s unbelievably gorgeous. Gazing at her, sharing that secret smile . . . I may be the happiest man alive.
Well, no. Max is probably the happiest man alive considering he’s about to marry my compassionate, badass, completely self-sufficient sister. Speaking of gorgeous, my sister really pulled herself together. The hours she spent locked away in the dressing room with Layne certainly paid off. She looks like a mermaid princess or something. I don’t know how we can possibly be related.
Max’s best man, Tom, passes him a tissue, and Layne does the same for Kristen. The bride and groom have tears streaming down their faces, almost to a comical degree. I catch Layne’s eye with a look that says what’s going on here? She smiles and shrugs in response. True love, I guess.
When vows and rings are exchanged, the minister finally ends with the classic, “You may kiss the bride.” The kiss is passionate, not as chaste as our parents probably would have liked, which honestly makes it so much better.
I cheer loudly, and soon everyone in the church is clapping and smiling. The music starts, and one by one, all the couples in the bridal party make their way down the aisle and back to the lobby. I manage to steal Layne from Tom, passing off his wife, Liza, to him in a decently executed twirl.
Catching Layne by the wrist, I pull her close to me with a kiss. She outright giggles, a sound I’ve come to know and love. Architecture is great and all, but it’s my life’s passion to make Layne Anderson laugh at least ten times a day.
With all the attention on Max and Kristen, it’s easy for me to pull Layne away to find one of the many dark crevices in the historic hotel where the reception is being held following the ceremony.
Layne follows close behind; we’ve got this quickie operation down to a science at this point. Once voices are far enough away, I push Layne against the wall and press my body into hers. She smirks at me, her eyes still a dazzling green in the dim light of this hall.
I open the door to a nearby conference room, pleased it find it unlocked, and we slip inside.
“Here?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.
“You followed me here.”
“I guess I did.” Layne grinds her hips against the front of my pants, making my already stiff shaft swell even more.
I lean in and plant searing kisses on her neck, pulling the straps of her dress aside to reveal her perfect breasts. I fucking love it when she doesn’t wear a bra. As her hands massage my neck and scalp, mine ghost soft touches across her ribs and pebbled nipples. Her right hand rubs eagerly against my erection, which aches to be released from my pants.
I take a step back from her, undoing my belt, button, and zipper as quickly as I can. I can’t keep my eyes off of her, pressed up against the wall, half-naked and dazed. She’s hotter than ever like this.
Before I can register what’s happening, Layne drops to her knees in front of me, taking me into her hot, wet mouth. I groan, grabbing her hair in my fist. She suddenly stops, looking up at me with a frown.
“Easy on the hair. We’ve still got to take more pictures.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “Sorry.”
She resumes sucking and licking my dick, working me into a state that I’m not sure I’ll recover from if I let her continue for much longer. Goddam.
“Get up here, sexy.” I help Layne to her feet and drop to my knees.
My turn.
I remove her heels one by one, kissing trails up her legs and lifting the skirt of her dress until my tongue finds her slick, sweet center. I draw lazy circles with the tip of my tongue against her clit, increasing intensity with every approving moan. Finally, once her breathing starts to hitch and her fingernails dig into my shoulders through my shirt, I stand. With my hands on her hips, I guide my cock to her center, driving into her at an excruciatingly slow and steady pace. We both groan, the sensation of flesh on flesh almost too much to bear.
I hold her ass up, giving myself the leverage to give her exactly what she needs—my cock deep inside her. She cries out loudly with every thrust, her voice echoing in the empty conference room.
“F—fuck, Griff, fuck,” she moans, her voice breathy and desperate.
“Kiss me.” I groan into her cheek, and her lips find mine in a hungry press.
Moments later, we both shatter into a million shimmering pieces at the very same time. Shuddering, I hold her body close, enjoying the final waves of pleasure as they rock through me.
Once we�
��ve both found our way back to reality, I set her down on the floor again. One by one, I replace each beautiful foot into a high heel. Rising to my feet, I zip up my own pants. Wordless, we help each other with hair and wrinkled clothes, smoothing out all evidence that anything smutty just occurred in a boardroom, of all places.
“I’ve got to fix my makeup before we head back,” she says, peering into the darkened mirrored surface of a window.
“Sure,” I say. “I think there was one just around the corner.”
“Perfect.” She smiles, giving me a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into a restroom down the hall.
I take a deep breath, reaching into my pocket to make sure . . . Yes, it’s still there.
I hear the rush of water come from the restroom and take position. The restroom door creaks open, and her heels click down the hall as she returns.
“Griff, did you bring a pen? I think it would be nice if we wrote them—” Layne walks back into the boardroom to see me on one knee, presenting a glimmering ring. “Oh my God.”
“Layne, baby? I have something to ask you—”
“Griffin! Are you kidding me?” She’s shocked to tears, laughing with uneven breath. “Right after I leave the bathroom?”
“You can make up something more romantic to tell our friends,” I say with a smirk. “I just couldn’t wait any longer. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me, honey?”
Layne drops to my level, planting a kiss on me that’s hard and tender at the same time. “Yes,” she murmurs into my lips. “I’ll marry you.”
EPILOGUE
* * *
LAYNE
Two years later
Walking through the garage door, I’m immediately greeted by a fluffy black-and-white fur ball, jumping up on his hind legs to paw and lick at my knees, his tail wagging like crazy.
