by Elle Kennedy
I’m equally startled to see tears well up in my girlfriend’s eyes.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s okay.” She wipes her cheeks. “It’s just…you’re right. The rest of it doesn’t matter. Yes, we have responsibilities to school and work, but we also have a responsibility to ourselves and our happiness. I’m not happy when we’re apart.”
“Me neither,” I say hoarsely. “That’s why we need to stick to the pact. You and me matter. I think the moment one of us feels unhappy in the relationship, or if we feel like the distance and time apart is affecting us negatively, then at the first available opportunity, we oughta do something like this.”
“Get stuck in a blizzard?” she teases.
“Go on an adventure,” I correct. “So what do you say—deal?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Deal.”
Snow crunches beneath our tires as I drive down the narrow lane that leads to the B&B. It snowed a ton last night, painting the entire landscape white. It’s beautiful. And so is the woman sitting beside me.
“We made it,” I say, slowing to a stop in front of the quaint two-story structure. I turn to give Grace a triumphant smile.
The front door of the B&B swings open to reveal a couple in their late fifties. They’re bundled up in parkas and scarves, the woman holding two huge mugs with steam rising from the top.
“John and Grace?” the man calls as we get out of the car.
“That’s us,” I call back.
“We’re so sorry for the early arrival,” Grace apologizes.
The woman dismisses that. “Oh, hush, don’t be sorry! We’re just happy you made it here in one piece. That blizzard last night! Good grief, it was a bad one!” She thrusts out the two mugs. “Some hot tea. I thought you’d need it.”
“Thank you.” A grateful Grace accepts one of the mugs.
I take the other, welcoming the cloud of steam that warms my face.
“As you’ve probably figured out, we’re your hosts,” the woman says. “I’m Amanda, and this is my husband, Pastor Steve.”
“We’re very pleased to have you,” her husband says. “Even if only for a short stay.” He offers a sheepish smile in my direction. “I’m a big fan, son.”
I won’t lie—the praise never gets old. “Thank you, sir. And I—I’m sorry, but your wife’s introduction was, um…” Weird, I almost say. “Unclear,” I finish. “Should we call you Steve or Pastor?”
“Either works,” he says cheerfully.
“You’re a pastor?” Grace asks after another eager sip of tea.
“Indeed I am. I lead a small congregation here in our little community.”
His wife beams proudly. “He’s being modest! He counsels nearly every resident in Bowen County.”
I study Pastor Steve’s warm brown eyes, then glance over at Grace. Thoughtful. I mean…didn’t we literally just have a conversation about taking advantage of every opportunity that comes our way?
“What is it?” It’s that same tone she uses when she suspects I’m up to no good.
I flash her a faint smile before turning back to the pastor. “So. Just out of curiosity…” My grin widens. “Do you do weddings?”
Part II
The Proposal
11
Dean
“Allie, where do I even start? Bottom line: you’re incredible. From the day we met, I knew we were meant to be… Okay, well, no, you had a boyfriend when we met and I was a manwhore. But. From the day that we hooked up—shit, no, it was a one-night stand, and you were ashamed and didn’t speak to me for days after…”
I take a breath and regroup.
“From the day that you took me back after we broke up because I was an asshole and got high and missed your play.”
Nope. Also terrible.
I try again.
“Allie. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Clearly,” comes Garrett’s dry voice. “By the way, the answer is no. Go ahead and close that box.”
I stare at the open jewelry box in my hand, all plush blue velvet and glittering diamond, trying to tamp down my frustration. I’m still kneeling in front of Garrett, former college roommate and best friend for life, in the living room of his expensive Boston brownstone, while our other best friend watches with amusement from the couch.
“I didn’t mind it,” Logan says frankly. “It adds sincerity most proposals are lacking.”
“It was awful,” Garrett corrects. “And I will not be marrying you, Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis. Sorry to break it to you. Now do it again.”
“Fine.” Normally I wouldn’t let G boss me around like this, but I’m a man on an important mission. You can’t go into something like this blind.
So, once again, I get in position. One knee. Velvet box in hand. This is my third proposal attempt, because as it turns out, Garrett Graham is goddamn hard to please. I wonder if Hannah has this much trouble satisfying him.
“Allie,” I start.
“Look into my eyes,” he orders.
I clench my teeth and look into his gray eyes.
“Stop squinting.”
I open my eyes wide.
Logan snickers. “Dude, you look like you’re possessed. You need to blink.”
I blink.
“Allie, you’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me,” I begin, keeping my gaze trained on Garrett.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Logan remarks.
I swivel my head toward him. “No commentary, asshole. You guys are supposed to be offering feedback.”
“I am. I’m offering feedback that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry ass. Without that woman, you’d still be screwing your way through life, arguing cases in a courtroom and making an obscene amount of money, driving a Lambo or some other obnoxious sports car and—you know what? That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe you don’t need to marry her.”
Garrett snorts out a laugh.
I just sigh. These two idiots, along with our friend Tucker, whose wedding I’m in town for, are closer to me than my own brother. Which says a lot, because my brother, Nick, and I are pretty damn close. But they’re right. Without Allie, I don’t know what my life would look like right now. Before her, I was on track to follow in my parents’ footsteps and attend Harvard Law, which I didn’t want to do. I also didn’t do girlfriends. The one I had in high school tried to kill herself after I broke up with her, and—not gonna lie—that scarred me.
But then a one-night stand changed my entire life. Allie Hayes is it for me. We’ve been together almost four years now, and there’s no doubt in my mind she’s the one I’m going to marry, have kids with, grow old with. I was never in a rush to propose before, but lately I’ve been feeling this urge to start moving things along. To know we’re moving forward in our relationship. And, yeah, now that Tucker and Sabrina are finally tying the knot and we’re all in Boston to celebrate with them, I guess I have wedding fever. I didn’t know that happened to dudes, but there you go. Somehow, I found myself picking out a ring at Tiffany & Co. yesterday morning, and I haven’t looked back since.
“Okay. Allie,” I try again, looking into the expectant eyes of a grown man. “I love you. I love everything about you. I love your sense of humor. I love how melodramatic you are—”
“Veto,” Garrett interrupts. “You can’t insult her in the proposal.”
“But it’s a compliment,” I protest. “I love the drama.”
“Yeah, but women don’t want to hear they’re drama.”
“He’s right,” Logan chimes in. “I told Grace she was being dramatic when we got stranded on New Year’s and she lost it.” He pauses. “Well, technically she lost it because I wouldn’t eat her ass.”
“I’m sorry—what?” Garrett asks politely.
“Not what it sounds like.” He chuckles. “She wanted me to promise that if one of us died in the blizzard, we would eat the other one.”
; G nods. “Oh. Like that movie.”
Logan’s face goes blank.
“You know the one. About a football team or something that crashed in the mountains and cannibalized each other to survive? It’s heartwarming.”
“Sounds like it,” I say dryly.
“Yeah, exactly like that, then,” Logan tells G. “But I wouldn’t make the promise, and she got pissed. Luckily that didn’t stop her from—” He stops abruptly.
“From what?” I prompt.
Logan runs a hand over his buzzed hair. For a second I get the sense he’s nervous. Dodging. But then a wolfish grin curves his lips. “From spending all of New Year’s Day in bed with me. Anyway. Trust me, girls don’t want to be called drama-llama.”
I mull over Grace’s hypothetical for a second. “Would you eat me if I died first?” I ask him.
“Oh, for sure. You too, G.”
Garrett sounds intrigued. “You’d eat us for sustenance, but you wouldn’t eat your girlfriend?”
“I couldn’t. It’d feel completely wrong. The idea of cutting into her perfect flesh…” He shudders. “Nope, can’t do it. I’d rather die. Also, if she’s dying, I’m dying right along with her. I can’t live without her.”
“There,” Garrett says, jabbing a finger in the air at me. “That’s what you say.”
“That I won’t be able to cut into her perfect flesh and eat it?”
“No, that you can’t live without her. Life isn’t worth living if she’s not with you, blah blah blah.”
Finally, some direction. “Got it,” I say. “Here. Let me try again.”
This time, I lead with the whole can’t-live-without-you pitch, while Garrett clasps his hands over his heart, nodding along. Encouraged by his response, I hurry on.
“There’s nobody else I want to be with. Nobody else I want to fuck. I love every inch of your body, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives seeing you naked—”
“No! You’ve gone off the rails,” Garrett chides. “That’s way too sexy. Sexiness plays no role in a proposal.”
“I disagree,” Logan pipes up. “I say go even sexier.”
“Don’t listen to him.”
“More sexy,” Logan argues.
“Less,” Garrett shoots back.
My gaze ping-pongs between the two of them, my temples beginning to throb. This is impossible. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get through this proposal. I’m not good with romantic words. I’m good with dirty, telling her I want to screw her brains out. I’m good at telling Allie I love her, because I do. I love her with all my heart. Why does a proposal need to involve a whole damn speech?
“You know what, try it on me,” Logan suggests. “G is clearly not a good proposal receiver.”
“Oh, fuck off, I’m a great proposal receiver. It’s just that the proposal sucks. I’m not going to say yes to something that doesn’t wow me.”
“Go wow yourself,” I grumble, flipping up my middle finger.
Garrett beams at me. “I do. Every day when I look in the mirror.”
Asshole. He’s incorrigible. Although, his massive ego isn’t entirely unwarranted. There’s a reason he was the big man on campus at Briar for four years. The Garrett Graham, constantly swarmed by thirsty girls. Granted, I scored way more often than him, mostly because Garrett was always too busy with hockey and made that clear to any chick who tried getting serious with him. He hooked up, but not nearly as much as me or Logan. But hey, it worked out for him. His dedication to hockey got him signed by the Bruins, and now he’s one of the highest paid hockey players in the league and has a girlfriend he adores.
What’s wild to me is the fact that G and Logan are teammates again. They played in college together for four years, then went their separate ways for two, only for Logan to wind up playing in Boston—on the same line as Garrett. Talk about serendipity. I think. I always use that word incorrectly.
“As the only one here who’s successfully written poetry for a woman, I think I’m best equipped to evaluate a proposal,” Logan is saying, jarring me from my thoughts.
Garrett rolls his eyes. “Okay there, Shakespeare.”
“He has a point,” I tell G.
“See?” Logan crooks a beckoning finger at me. “C’mere, big boy.”
I snicker as I lumber over to him. He sits up, long legs dangling over the side of the couch. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt, and when he leans forward, I catch a whiff of him and nod in approval.
“Damn, you smell good, dude. What are you wearing?”
“I ran out of body wash so I’m using Grace’s,” he answers with a grin. “It’s fucking delicious, right?”
“Oh yeah. I can see why Garrett sneaks into your hotel rooms for all those secret man-on-man bone-zone sessions.”
“Jealous?” Garrett smirks.
Grinning, I get in position, popping the box open for the millionth time.
The diamond gleams in the light fixture above our heads, causing Logan to gawk at me. “Jesus, that thing is so shiny, it’s gonna burn a hole in my retina. It didn’t shine this bright when I was across the room.”
I nod smugly. “I know how to pick ’em.”
“That thing’s a monster. You sure Allie’s hand is even strong enough to support the weight of it?”
“Trust me, we’ve talked about engagement rings before. She likes ’em big.” I wink. “Big rings too.”
Garrett snorts. He wanders over and settles on his leather recliner. “Okay, seriously, dude. You gotta make this one good.”
I resist the urge to crack my knuckles the way I used to before a big game. All right. I got this.
“Allie,” I say to Logan. “I love you so much. You changed my entire life when you decided to bless me with your love. You make my world better.”
“Sexier,” Logan murmurs.
“Every time I’m with you, my heart feels like it’s going to explode.” I pause. “And so does my dick.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Garrett shake with laughter.
Logan, however, nods his approval. Our gazes are locked in disturbingly intimate eye contact.
“You’re the only one for me, baby.”
“More physical contact,” he urges.
I don’t know if he’s messing with me or not. I decide that he is, so I play along.
“You have no idea how stunning you are.” I lean forward, still holding the ring box in one hand. I place my other hand flat on his muscular thigh.
Logan narrows his eyes.
You wanted it, I think, battling a grin.
“Every time I look at you, I can’t even fathom that you’re mine. Your beauty is otherworldly. It makes me want to rip your clothes off. You make me so hard.” My hand skims up his chest toward his collarbone. I’m desperately trying not to laugh as I cup his stubble-covered cheek. “Baby. Will you marry me?”
There’s a brief silence.
Then Logan’s mouth falls open. He turns to Garrett, wide-eyed. Then back at me.
“Chills,” he breathes. “Genuine chills, man. Look.” He rolls up his shirt sleeve to show me his arm. “That’s the one.”
“That is not the one!” Garrett growls from the recliner. “Don’t you fucking say any of that or you’re going to lose the girl.”
I hop to my feet, because this entire exercise was completely useless. “I think we’re done here,” I announce. “You two are truly, and utterly, the worst.”
“Or are we the best?” Logan counters.
I roll my eyes. “I’m grabbing a beer, you want one?” I ask them.
When they nod, I pop into Garrett’s spacious kitchen and head for the stainless steel refrigerator.
“When are you going to do it?” Logan calls from the other room.
I stick my head in the fridge, searching. I grab three bottles. “I don’t know. I’m waiting for the perfect time,” I admit as I walk back to the living room. “I was thinking maybe at the wedding?”
Two
pairs of eyes stare at me in disbelief.
“The wedding?” Garrett echoes. “Are you nuts? Tucker will rip your balls off.”
“You can’t ask someone to marry you at somebody else’s wedding,” Logan balks.
“But isn’t it romantic?” I ask blankly. Their response is baffling. “They’re swearing their undying love, I’m swearing my undying love. So much undying love in the air. What do you assholes have against undying love?”
“Dude, trust us,” Logan says. “You don’t want to do this.”
I still don’t see the big deal.
“All right. Chill. I’ll come up with something else.”
“You better.” Garrett shudders. “That’s almost as egregious as Logan wanting to give them Alexander as a wedding gift.”
I gape at Logan. “Are you insane? You can’t curse their wedding with that demon doll.”
“Oh, but you can ruin it by stealing their thunder?” he retorts.
“For fuck’s sake, I told you I’m not going to do it,” I grumble, sitting on the other end of the sectional.
As I take a long sip of beer, it suddenly occurs to me how monumental this weekend is.
“I can’t believe our boy’s getting married,” I say in amazement.
“I can.” Garrett grins. “I mean, he already has a kid.”
Good point. And not only does Tucker have a kid, but she’s turning three soon. The thought of my little niece Jamie melts my heart. Tuck and I might not be related by blood, but he’s family, and I love his daughter to pieces. Hell, these days I even love Sabrina, who I thought was an uptight bitch in college. But we squashed our beef a long time ago, and I can’t deny she’s been good for Tucker. And a great mom.
“True. But sometimes it feels like we’re too young to be doing the whole marriage thing,” I answer.
“Says the guy who’s about to propose to his girlfriend.” Garrett laughs.
“We’re twenty-five,” Logan objects. “That’s not too young, is it? I mean, shit, sometimes I’m so beaten up and bruised after a game, I feel ancient.”
I nod solemnly. “You’re an old man. Soon you’ll have to retire.”
