by Hagen, Casey
Yeah, well, I had a string for him to yank.
The asshole.
For three days I wandered my condo, wrung out, sad, unsure, and hating the fact all I really wanted to do was call him. He’d masterfully swooped in right after I claimed my power, right after I decided I controlled my own fate. He breached the fragile—God, I hated that word—period right after ditching my training wheels while I teetered in the unknown. He’d been brutal with the way he wielded that gale force testosterone of his.
He’d driven me into a frenzy. I scrubbed my hands raw on day one eradicating every dirt particle and dust mite in my place from top to bottom. I even pulled down all the curtains and ran them through the wash. I’d officially turned into my mother.
And for that he had to pay.
When I ran out of surfaces to clean which didn’t take long in barely over six hundred square feet, I turned to all things business for Forever Begins Here.
My new business would be the only thing getting my focus from here on out. I’d bury all of my energy in every other happily ever after, and if I didn’t eventually get my own. Fine.
Fine.
I’d worn myself out, a blessing and a curse. Falling face-first into bed at night, my brain depleted, I had nothing left for Falcon to even make a flicker of an appearance in my dreams.
And I missed him.
The fucker.
Soraya tapped her foot and murmured as she clicked through the fifty or so mockups of logos in the graphics folder on my laptop.
They could probably use a designer tweaking them further. I was no slouch in the Photoshop department; it was one of the many skills I’d put to use at the last minute in my business. Imperfect, but close, they’d give Soraya a good glimpse into my vision. I was too close to the project and would definitely need to have them fleshed out and finalized.
But first, I needed Soraya’s take. I’d never had a partner, let alone a partner who doubled as my best friend. The last thing I wanted was for this to come between us. So, I needed blunt honesty from her.
Only then would I be able to take a deep breath again.
Every beat of silence had pressure building in my chest and before long, I lost all focus on Lorenzo, not that he cared. He’d started smashing the cars in head-on collisions.
Soraya leaned her elbow on the table and faced me.
I sucked a gulp of air into my lungs and held it for beat, until a slow, sly smile spread over her face.
“Girl, these are good. Really good.”
I slumped, my shoulders aching when I finally released the tension holding me upright. “Which ones?”
Soraya shook her head. “All of them. You’d have to decide which you love the most, but these are killer. Sleek, sophisticated, but not overdone.”
I pushed to my feet and looked at the thumbnails over her shoulder. “You don’t think they need anything else then?”
“You’re not froufrou. You’ve never been frilly. Less is more. Trust that. It’s the same keen eye that has you unrolling dream wedding after dream wedding.”
My throat thickened with unshed tears, taking me by complete surprise. It’s not that I needed the kudos. I really didn’t. But coming from Soraya, someone who saw the real me and spoke the blunt truth, her words propped up my heart.
And that heart of mine was like a plane caught in a hail storm with a lost engine, malfunctioning auto pilot, limping along in survival mode, a series of jerky motions, coughing and sputtering the entire way.
“Do you have one you like more than the others?” she asked, scrolling through the folder.
“I’m not sure,” I said, chewing my bottom lip.
“What is your heart telling you?”
“I don’t know.”
Soraya sighed. “You and I both know you walked through the door with a favorite, now spill,” she said, piercing me with her eyes as she pursed her lips.
“The teal, brushed circle with forever in gold, textured script.” The admission rolled out of me without even looking at the screen. “That’s my favorite. No engagement ring, no dress, flowers, or bouquet. No scrolls. Only a simple, never-ending circle,” I said.
Everything always came full circle.
Goosebumps broke out over my skin, and I jumped when she snapped the laptop shut and pushed it to the center of the table.
“Then that’s the one. Now, we celebrate.”
“Did I hear we’re having a celebration?” Graham said, swooping in with champagne glasses and a bottle of Dom Perignon 1966.
“That’s a two-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne. We can’t drink that,” I said, balking. Not to mention the rare vintage. Over the course of my career, a few different parents of the bride had tried to secure enough to cover their massive guest lists, only to find out some things money couldn’t buy.
Graham shot me a look, glanced at the label, and then turned to me once again. “I didn’t buy it to look at it. What better time than now to open it?”
“I don’t know…a special occasion. Chloe or Lorenzo’s engagements maybe?”
The smile spreading over Graham’s face hinted at the mischief thrumming through him. “You got my wife to be a silent partner. I haven’t managed to get her to be silent since I tried to get her to send me a naked pic and offered to go first.”
“Oh, you’re so going to pay for that,” Soraya said, her eyelids sliding right into a half-lidded glare.
“Ummm, so much more than I needed to know. The silent part was her idea, I might add,” I said with a wince, and maybe a twinge of jealousy.
If Graham could stop being such a stuck-up suit, why couldn’t Falcon drag out the corn cob he smuggled in his asshole and loosen up a little?
Graham not only unclenched enough to entertain the idea of taking a candid of his peen, he freely admitted it. So maybe Falcon could attempt to have a conversation with an average sentence length over three words and ninety-five percent less growls and grunts.
“I’ll take her silence however I can get it.”
Soraya slid a glance at Lorenzo. “You might find yourself not getting it for a very long time now. My silence definitely won’t be because my mouth is full.”
“Mmmm, think again. You’re going to want to gorge on the sausage buffet when I tell you about my phone call…the other reason for the champagne.”
“What are you up to?” Soraya said, sidling right up to him.
Graham popped the cork with a wink. Leaning into Soraya, he kissed her ear, exposing the underside of his jaw and the stubble there as his jaw flexed. “Making magic happen, baby. What would you say if I whisked you ladies out of town for the next five nights?”
I waved my finger in the air. “Ummm, yoo-hoo, the only trip I can afford right now is the one I take from my kitchen to my living room. Running on fumes over here, party of one.”
“It’s all comped. There’s an all-inclusive, prestigious wedding venue opening up between Flagstaff and Phoenix. It’s about five square miles. They’re set up for every kind of wedding you can imagine: prairies, mountains, riverside, springs, rustic barn; it’s huge. They want a preferred vendors list coming out of the gate. Only one hundred industry professionals snagged invites to this and you’re one of them.”
My chest hollowed out with the whoosh of air escaping me. “Wait, what? How am I one of them?”
“You’ve been keeping secrets,” Soraya murmured, curling her fingers around Graham’s hard, tan forearm.
Graham winked at Soraya and handed me a flute of champagne. “I’ve made our flight arrangements so let’s have a toast, fill our bellies, and then you need to go home and get ready. We’ll swing by to pick you up at one o’clock tomorrow to head to the airport.”
“And what, pray tell, husband of mine, did you plan to do with our son while we go on this adventure?”
“Cole and Casper have us covered. They can’t wait. He’s not even going to miss us.”
I held up a hand. “Okay, so don’t take this the wron
g way because I’m grateful you put so much work into this for me, but what am I supposed to do as a preferred vendor for a wedding venue in Arizona?”
New York City wasn’t for everyone—I respected that—but the city always lit a spark in me I couldn’t imagine feeling anywhere else. My condo may be small, but it was all mine, and I’d put up with four lengthy, almost five years of Vera the battle axe to get it. The thought of leaving this city felt way too much like letting her win, and I couldn’t have it.
Plus, my parents were still only a long drive away, and for the first time in the ten years since Ethan’s accident, I thought maybe the three of us could find a new normal. One where we weren’t all gingerly tiptoeing over the eggshells of Ethan’s death. How was I supposed to up and move across the country and leave them behind?
“Hold up, I’d never expect you to up and move. They’re set up for destination weddings. They have the space to accommodate bridal parties and their families. Hotels and inns are only a fifteen-minute drive away. If you become an approved vendor, clients you bring in get an automatic twenty percent discount of lodging for all guests, the food, bridal suites, honeymoon suites, photography, you name it.”
My mouth ran dry and I swallowed. “I, uh—twenty percent, really?”
“Yeah. They’re particularly interested in you because they’re hoping you can bring them business from the city.”
“I—this could be—this might, I could have real business and soon. Really soon. Actual dollars. Spendable ones,” I said, fumbling my words and letting out a frantic giggle. The first real laugh since the band squeezing my chest fell into place shortly after the words “I quit” shot from my lips on a wave of I’m-over-this-shit energy over a week ago.
I plopped my ass in a chair, the gold bubbles of Dom sloshing against the side of the crystal. I took a big gulp and sputtered. “Oh, God, I need business cards. Tonight. I need them tonight.” I grabbed my cell and thumbed through my contacts for printers who might be able to hook me up on a Sunday night or Monday morning.
“Can you handle the design?” Graham asked.
Thanks to Soraya’s reassurance, I had the logo. “Absolutely.”
“Champagne, food, then crack open your computer. Leave the printing to me. We’ll pick you up at one with the cards in hand.”
* * *
Full of determination, with nervous energy humming through my veins on a wave of bubbly champagne, I had Graham’s car service—the one he was stubborn about me using to go see them—drop me off three blocks from my condo so I could grab fresh flowers.
I’d earned the pretty, even if only for a night. Before I headed out in the morning, I’d drop off the vase to Dottie on the second floor since she’d always been awesome enough to keep an eye out for deliveries or watered my plants while I traveled.
I smiled at the glimpses of the thick yellow blooms of the sunflowers jumping into view with every swing of my arm. Standing taller, hope replaced the weight of dread. I bounced on the balls of my feet and tipped my face up to the late summer breeze whipping down Clinton Avenue.
Writing into Ask Ida single-handedly was the best thing I’d ever done. Since the very beginning, from the moment she read my letter, Soraya had my back. Graham too. They never once doubted my ability to make bold moves.
Soraya stood by me for years, waiting for me to decide I was done with Vera’s shit. She never once judged me for holding out. She gave me her hot take and left it at that, trusting in me to know when the time was right. Trusting me to know when I was finally ready to put myself first.
It had never been about not believing in myself. It’s always been about the couples I worked with and never finding the exact right time to walk away without leaving a string of disaster in my wake.
Brides, and especially their mothers, did not handle change well. Piling stress had a tendency to turn into a frenzy. Small family fractures grew, secrets spilled, resentments deepened, and bonds snapped under the pressure. Vera’s problem sure, but I didn’t need family destruction on my conscience.
And every time, right about the time all the stars aligned for me to walk away, the pressure to be successful and independent marched in like an elephant sitting on my lungs.
Because I was the only child left to do so.
It always came back to that. To losing Ethan. I spent so much time worrying about my parents and whether or not they’d find a way to move on I’d completely missed how many of my decisions hinged on looking back to that single moment in time and the aftermath.
I really needed to stop doing that. I had no one to blame but myself.
I brushed smooth petals of the sunflowers against my cheek, turning my focus on the velvety softness, letting the sensation chase away circumstances out of my control.
Tonight I’d choose happiness. I’d choose peace.
Glancing up, I skidded to a stop.
The angular jaw in the side mirror of the obnoxiously black Charger made me want to reach out and touch it.
By touch, I meant punch.
Falcon ducked his head as he peered out the passenger window like he was trying to get a glimpse of my window through the trees.
The son of a bitch.
I sauntered up to his door and for a minute considered whacking him with the flowers. “Really, you’re just sitting out here staring at my place now. Is this your new thing? ’Cause I’ve got to tell you, you should probably get that checked by a professional.”
His head snapped around and he narrowed his eyes at me; his gaze traveled over me like I did something wrong.
“What are you doing here, flyboy?”
“Did you see him?” Falcon asked.
“Who?”
“You know damn well who I’m asking about.”
Yeah, I did, and it was none of his fucking business. He was not going to march back into my life and think he could call the shots. The dude was seriously misguided if he thought there was even a flicker of a chance I’d hand him control.
And I sure as hell would fuck whoever I wanted.
“You’re not my keeper, Falcon. You want to flatter a woman? Make her feel like you want her for her and not because you want to piss on her and mark your territory for when another dick wanders in.”
“My dick was in your territory long before his,” he said, the rumble of his words all low and possessive like I’d just fall over with my legs in the air at the sound.
I leaned in and braced my forearms on his open window. His full, delicious lips—lips adept at taking me sweet and hard at the same time—drew my attention.
“You lost your nerve before your dick even made it to my territory.” I met his gaze and leaned in a fraction more, until his breath skittered over my skin. “Sucks to be you, flyboy. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
I took a step back, never taking my eyes from his, and tapped my palm on his window frame twice. Taking my time, I sauntered away as I dragged my fingertip along his driver’s side door and along the top of his mirror. I knew what my words would do, and I’d hit a nerve, judging by the way he ground his teeth together and glared at me.
Good. Get mad, you son of a bitch.
Leaving him sitting in his car, I walked around the hood, still watching the way his heated gaze tracked me. Arriving at my steps, I finally turned my back, and yeah, I may have twitched. I knew for a fact Falcon was an ass man, and I had zero problem showing him exactly what he was missing. Jogging up the steps to my front door, I grinned, knowing damn well he’d follow because he couldn’t help himself.
If he wanted to cross the threshold into my territory, he’d better be prepared for what he was going to get.
I’d made it halfway up the second flight of stairs when the outside door squeaked open. His heavy, slow, almost ominous steps set my blood racing.
I knew he couldn’t resist.
My heart hammered heavy against my ribs. Energy charged and snapped around me and my skin flushed. Sinking the key in my lock, I let mys
elf in, shut the door, and slumped against it, my chest heaving with a rush of excitement. I needed this. I needed to spar with someone—with Falcon.
The cool wood vibrated against my back at the force of Falcon’s knock. “I want my shirt back,” he said through the door.
I glanced down at the flannel I’d worn at least twice a week since the night he wrapped it around me.
He wanted it back, did he?
I wrenched the door open and cocked a hip. “It’s not yours anymore. You gave it to me.”
“I let you borrow it,” he said from where he loomed in my doorway, his fingertips hooked over the top of my doorframe, beautiful hard muscles cording up his long arms. That tattoo of his between us.
“Really? That was borrowing it?”
“Yup.”
“Funny, I never asked for it. You’re sure you want it back?”
“Yes,” he growled, his arms dropping to his sides before he took a step toward me and filled the doorway.
I shrugged, tossed the sunflowers on the chair, and reached for the first button. “Okay.”
His lips parted and his eyes dropped to my hands right as I reached for the second button.
“What are you doing?”
I knew he could see the valley between my breasts now. I had a habit of only using four out of the seven buttons.
And going braless.
Because yeah, there was a secret thrill wearing his shirt over my naked breasts. I relished that shit and tonight, it looked like it was finally going to pay off.
“I’m giving you your shirt. You seemed adamant.”
“Emory—”
“It must be a really important shirt. After all, you followed me, you stalked my house, and even chased me up here.”
“I can wait for you to go in and change,” he said, a strangled sound coming from his throat.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said with a smile as I popped the last button free. The fabric parted but stopped just shy of exposing my breasts to his hungry view.
