Cuff Me

by Lauren Layne

  Add in the girl-power suits and killer heels, and you had a bona fide man-eater on your hands.

  Speaking of men, a guy, whom Jill assumed must be Cory, gave them an indulgent smile as he easily hoisted Jill’s suitcases into the trunk, before coming around and holding the door for them expectantly.

  “He does have a cute butt,” Jill whispered as she climbed into the backseat after Elena.

  “Right? Oh, and if it comes up, you’re a potential client,” Elena said before turning her vibrating phone to silent and dropping it into her Chanel bag. “Hence why I’m using company resources.”

  “Cool, got it. I can totally play this,” Jill said, clicking her seat belt into place. She cleared her throat. “You can’t handle the truth!”

  The driver faltered slightly as he lowered himself into the driver’s seat, and Elena rolled her eyes. “What was that?”

  “Jack Nicholson, from… actually, I have no idea what that’s from.”

  “It’s from A Few Good Men, and that’s not what I’m asking. I’m wondering why the heck you’re shouting it out all crazy-like right now?”

  “Well, Jack’s character says that while he’s on the witness stand. And you said I was supposed to be a client, so…”

  Elena stared at her. “Babe, what is it you think I do all day?”

  “Lawyer stuff?” Jill grinned widely.

  “Right. And I’m sure all you do all day is drink coffee and eat doughnuts, right? Cop stuff?”

  Jill gave a happy sigh. “God, I miss doughnuts. Florida doesn’t know how to do them right, and Mom decided that going without sugar was going to be her ‘thing’ during her sixties.”

  Elena looked horrified. “No wine? That has sugar.”

  “Yeah, I think she conveniently ignores that.”

  “How is she?”

  “Better now,” Jill said. “Getting her mobility back and all that.”

  A broken collarbone and hip were a nasty combination for anyone, but it had been especially hard on Kerry Henley, who prided herself in being an active “young” sixty-year-old. One day she’d been running a 5K, and then next she’d missed a step carrying her laundry basket down the stairs and been almost completely laid up for months.

  It had taken up all of Jill’s personal time plus a couple months of unpaid leave to care for her, but Jill hadn’t hesitated to make the temporary move to Florida.

  Her boss had assured her that her job would be waiting for her when she got back, and three months of your life is the least you could do for a parent who’d given eighteen years to caring for you.

  Jill’s in particular deserved her devotion; Jill’s dad had dropped dead of a heart attack at forty-one, leaving Kerry to raise a headstrong (read: bratty) daughter all by herself.

  “I’m glad she’s better. I love your mom. I wish she’d come up to New York more often.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you had to listen to her complain about the pigeons and the subway and the weather.”

  “Could be worse. Last Sunday, my mother actually started a sentence with, “You’re not getting any younger, Elena.”

  “I can beat that. Mine suggested freezing my eggs.”

  “You’re right. You win. And speaking of your nether regions, I’m so overdue for an update on this Tom guy you’ve been seeing. Did you guys decide to do long distance? Or are you going to wait until you find out if he’s any good at sexting before you cut him loose?”

  Jill bit her lip, gathering courage for what she was about to say. For some reason, she’d always pictured this moment as feeling… different. She expected feeling giddy and breathless as she made The Big Announcement.

  Instead she felt hesitant.

  So Jill did what Jill Henley did whenever she felt anything less than sparkles and rainbows.

  She faked it.

  Jill pasted a smile on her face, took a deep breath, and shot her left hand out in front of Elena’s face.

  “What, are you—” Elena broke off, her cool fingers wrapping around Jill’s wrist as her mouth dropped open. “No. Freaking. Way.”

  “Way.”

  Elena let out an uncharacteristic squeal. “You’re getting married?!”

  The words hit Jill with a little slap.

  She was getting married.

  It felt… funny.

  Probably because she wasn’t used to it yet.

  Elena threw herself across the backseat, arms wrapped around Jill’s neck as she kissed the side of Jill’s head repeatedly.

  “Congratulations, darling! When? Do I get to be maid of honor? I won’t wear green, but you know that. How did it happen? How did it happen? Oh yeah, and why did you not tell me?”

  Jill managed to extricate herself from Elena’s grip, only to have her left hand held hostage as Elena studied the square-cut diamond with a scary level of scrutiny.

  “He asked last night,” Jill said, gazing fondly at the ring. “I thought it was our farewell dinner, and, well, he had other ideas.”

  “Hell yeah, he did,” Elena said, ceasing studying the diamond so that she could instead study Jill.

  “I wanted to call you last night,” Jill said apologetically. “I so did. But I thought if I could hold off just a few hours, and tell you in person…”

  “Forgiven. Of course. I mean, the news is so much better with the ring, you know?”

  Let’s hope everyone feels that way. Jill sat in thought as Elena lifted her hand, studying the ring.

  Because if she’d been nervous to tell Elena, it was nothing compared to her nerves over telling Vincent. Which made no sense. She and Vin weren’t romantically involved. Had never even come close.

  And he might be the most surly grouch on the planet, but he cared about her. Cared about her happiness.

  He would be happy for her.

  Wouldn’t he?

  “I’m thrilled, you know that, right?” Elena asked.

  Jill smiled because she knew that tone. “But…”

  Her friend bit her lip for a moment, looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself before taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’m just going to come right out and say it. This happened fast. You’ve known the guy three months. You’re all the way sure?”

  Jill twisted the ring. “I’m sure. I’m totally sure. You’ll understand when you meet him, El. He’s just… he’s just… he’s perfect.”

  “Perfect, huh? You just got engaged, so I’m going to allow for the hyperbole. But tell me why I should let this guy marry my best friend.”

  Jill blew out a breath, wondering how to explain. “You know you meet another person and just get them? It was like that.”

  “Explain.”

  Explain.

  How did one explain Tom Edward Porter and how when you met someone as perfectly right for you as Tom was for her, you couldn’t afford to waste thought on things like soul mates or passion.

  You just had to go for it.

  “Okay, it’s like this,” Jill said, twisting so she could better face Elena. “When you were little, did you ever make your brothers play wedding with you? You know, make one of them pretend to be the groom?”

  “Um, of course.”

  “Luc?” Jill asked curiously.

  “Obviously. He’s the nicest of the bunch, and the youngest, which made him easiest to coerce.”

  Jill nodded. Elena had four brothers, and with the exception of mostly easygoing Luc, she couldn’t imagine any of them patiently letting their sister dress them up as groom to her bride.

  Luc Moretti—the bambino as he was lovingly known—might have managed to stand still just long enough to say his pretend vows.

  Anthony, the oldest, was far too serious. Marco was more laid-back, although from what Jill had heard, he’d also been the most rowdy of the kids. Then there was Vincent, and the thought of him humoring anyone, least of all his sister… no. Just no.

  Jill felt a tightening in her chest at the thought of the Morettis. God, she’d missed them.

 
Elena snapped her fingers in Jill’s face. “Your mind is wandering. Focus, Jilly.”

  “Right, okay… so back when we were little girls and imagining our perfect future husband… we were totally picturing Tom.”

  “So… you’re marrying an eight-year-old’s fantasy? That’s not creepy at all.”

  Jill laughed, missing her friend’s no bullshit candor. “No, okay, it’s like… Tom is just nice. He’s the sort of guy you dream about on Valentine’s Day when you’re depressed about being single, so you buy bridal magazines, and then spend the evening looking at goofy white dresses, drinking too much merlot, and wondering when exactly he would arrive on a white horse.”

  Or maybe that was just Jill’s Valentine’s Day, more often than not.

  It didn’t matter. Tom Porter was like something out of a dream. The only box he didn’t tick off in the Prince Charming checklist was the white horse, but that was okay because his Audi convertible was even better.

  In fact, he was so perfect, so charming, that the first time she saw him, it had taken Jill several seconds to register that he was real.

  And then several more seconds to register that he was talking to her.

  It’s not that Jill thought of herself as unappealing. She knew she was cute, because people told her so. Note, never beautiful, or even pretty. Never gorgeous. Certainly never sexy. But cute. Sometimes adorable. Because that’s just what every thirty-three-year-old woman wanted to hear.

  And she got it; she was average height, flat as a board, with a too-pointy chin and jaw, eyes too big for her face, and blond hair that she wore in a pony more often than not in an attempt to disguise how flat it could be.

  But Tom?

  Tom made her feel beautiful. He made her feel like a woman rather than a girl who seemed to inspire pats on the head from those around her.

  Tom had picked her up at a bar. Cliché, yes, but made less skeevy by the fact that neither of them had walked into that swanky hotel bar with the intention of going home with a member of the opposite sex. And they hadn’t.

  Gone home with each other, that is. Not that first night at least.

  It had been the end of Jill’s first week in Florida. Her mom had just started coming to grips with the immobile reality of her near future and understandably had turned ornery, even toward Jill.

  Not that Jill could blame her.

  The prospect of months of not being able to walk or use an arm would have made Jill a bit stabby too. Still, by the end of that first week, both mother and daughter had needed a break.

  Jill had waited until her mom’s friend came over for a marathon viewing of some show Jill had never heard of, and Jill had gone straight for her favorite therapy of choice: wine.

  She was halfway through her first glass of a rather bright and delicious sauvignon blanc at a swanky beachside resort when he’d walked in.

  It had been impossible to miss him. The bar was practically deserted, being early on a Monday evening, but even if the bar had been packed with wall-to-wall people, she would have noticed him.

  For starters, he was tall.

  Like, six-foot-plus, definitely.

  Broad shouldered in that football quarterback kind of way. His hair was dark blond and styled to look like a freaking Kennedy, all thick and rich-person like. Skin… perfect golden tan. Not the type of tan of a sun worshipper, or worse, a fake sun worshipper, just a guy who spent enough time outdoors to not look like a zombie.

  Perfectly tailored suit? Check. White, friendly smile? Yup.

  Politeness toward the bartender as he ordered his rye Manhattan? Be still her heart.

  Later, he would tell Jill that she’d been staring, and she didn’t bother to deny it.

  In that moment when he’d picked up his drink and slid off his bar stool at the other end of the bar, it had never, not once, occurred to Jill that he’d be coming toward her.

  Not until the bartender fluttered a cocktail napkin down onto the bar beside her own, just seconds before a large male hand placed his drink on it, did she realize what was happening.

  This gorgeous, untouchable man was coming over to talk to her.

  Luckily, there was one thing Jill did very well, and that was talk to strangers. It came with the job, what with questioning suspects and witnesses and family members all day long. Because God knew her partner was no good at that part.

  But anyway, the gorgeous man in the navy suit later told her it was her unabashed staring that had amused him enough to make his way to her.

  It was her unabashed friendliness that had made him stick around.

  Everything after that… well, it had happened fast. Only a week after, he’d stuck out his hand and introduced himself as Tom, Tom Porter, in a sort of James Bondian way that made her giggle. They had been eating dinner at that very same hotel restaurant.

  Only a week after that, dinner with Tom had become the norm rather than the exception.

  The week after that?

  They occasionally threw lunch into the mix, either her coming to meet him at some fancy place while her mom was in physical therapy, or him bringing fabulous picnic-style lunches to her mother’s house, where he’d proceed to charm Jill’s mom almost as thoroughly as he charmed Jill.

  Five weeks into Jill’s stay in Florida, Jill had stuck around for breakfast.

  In his hotel room.

  And then there’d been last night.

  “Okay, okay, so he’s a dreamboat,” Elena said as the car crept slowly through rush hour traffic toward Manhattan. “How’d he pop the question? Champagne? Roses? Fancy restaurant with a water view?”

  “Holy crap,” Jill said with a laugh. “Were you there?”

  “I know all,” Elena said, extending her hands to the side as though she were some wise sage. “Did you see it coming at all?”

  “Not even a little bit,” Jill admitted.

  Not even with the expensive champagne, or the two dozen roses, or the fact that the restaurant staff seemed to be going out of their way to give Jill and Tom privacy at the terrace table overlooking the ocean.

  She’d simply thought it had just been a really fantastic good-bye.

  Instead it had been a bit more of a be mine forever and ever.

  And Jill had said yes.

  She’d said yes almost the second he’d gone down on his knee, not because she’d been that sure—she’d been pretty sure… sort of sure—she’d said yes because in that moment, Jill had wanted what Tom Porter was offering her.

  A companion. A partner. Love.

  And that’s what it came down to. Jill wanted to be loved. She wanted to love.

  She loved her mother, obviously. And loved the memory of her father, God rest his soul.

  And though she had no siblings of her own, the Morettis had filled that gap. And with the recent addition of Luc’s girlfriend, Ava, and Anthony’s new wife, Maggie, she had some amazing girlfriends to add to the mix.

  And last, but never least, there was Vincent. Her partner. In some ways her best friend, although in a way that was different from her relationship with Elena.

  But as much as Vincent sometimes seemed like two parts of the same whole, he’d always held a bit of himself back from her. From everyone.

  He’d made no secret of the fact that he had no intentions of getting married, ever. Any fantasies Jill had had that her partner would one day wake up and see her were long gone.

  Which left her a bit… lonely.

  She wanted someone to come home to at the end of the long day who would just be there. Who’d pour her a glass of wine, maybe rub her feet and just listen.

  Tom offered Jill what nobody else had offered her… ever.

  Love. Commitment. A future.

  And she knew that he loved her. Fast as their relationship had developed, she could feel it. And she loved him too. At least she was pretty sure.

  “Aww, you like him,” Elena said teasingly, reaching out a finger and poking the dimple in Jill’s left cheek.

  “I
want to be happy, El. I want the happily-ever-after with someone who wants it with me.”

  She met her friend’s eyes and saw from the flash of regret on Elena’s face that El understood what Jill wasn’t saying out loud.

  I can’t wait for Vin forever.

  “I’m assuming you haven’t told him?”

  Jill shook her head and looked down at her ring, still trying to get used to the sparkle on her finger. “No. Like I said, not really a phone conversation.”

  “He’s going to be thrilled,” Elena said with a small smile. “I mean, he won’t show it, of course, because he’s emotionally barren. But he cares about you, babe. He just wants you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” Jill said.

  Elena nodded distractedly, and Jill’s eyes narrowed. She knew her friend well, and something was definitely on Elena’s mind.

  “Spill it,” Jill said.

  Elena blew out a long breath. “Okay, so it was supposed to be a surprise, but given that huge rock on your finger and the enormity of the bomb you’re about to drop, I just can’t let you go in unprepared.”

  Jill frowned. “Go in where?”

  “To Anthony and Maggie’s place. There’s kinda sorta a surprise party awaiting you.”

  Jill clapped her hands excitedly. “I love surprise parties! Especially when they’re for me.”

  “I know you do, I just didn’t know if you were planning to tell everyone all at once, or if you maybe first wanted to break the news to… individuals first.”

  Jill rubbed her thumb on the underside of the platinum band as she contemplated. In truth, she hadn’t really thought about how she was going to break the news to her partner. Hadn’t really let her brain go there.

  “He was unbearable while you were gone,” Elena said quietly. “Even more so than usual.”

  Jill snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure the separation was pure agony. You know, I barely heard from him?” she said absently. “I was gone three months, and I’d say he returned about ten percent of my texts, maybe two percent of my phone calls.”

  Elena sighed. “So what’s the plan? I can make an excuse, say you’re not feeling well—”