by T. K. Leigh
Love can’t be planned.
Chapter Forty-Three
I stare at the pink hue of the sky as the sun setting in the west casts a beautiful glow over the ocean outside the windows of Julian’s home in the Hamptons. A smile curves my mouth as I consider how far we’ve come since the first time I stepped foot in this house. Back then, I never would have imagined I’d be kicking off another summer with someone who was only supposed to be a fun distraction, or my key to revenge. Now I can’t imagine my life without him.
The sound of my phone ringing tears my attention away from the stunning view. I pull it out of my clutch, grinning when I see Chloe pop up.
“You made it!” I say as I answer her FaceTime call. “How are the islands treating you?”
She lifts the oversized sunglasses off her eyes as she brings a tropical concoction to her lips. She flew to Hawaii early this morning, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’d been there for days.
“I may never leave.”
I smile. “I don’t blame you. I’m counting down the hours until we hop on a plane tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Because you have it so rough, having to hold off on coming to Hawaii so you can go to some high-class party in the Hamptons. Let me get out my violin, Evie.”
Shaking my head, I can’t stop the grin from crawling across my lips. She’s right. I do have it pretty good. Not only do I have an incredibly supportive man in my life, but I also have a job I only dreamed about. Thankfully, Viv knew I wasn’t thinking clearly and refused to offer the assistant editor position to anyone until the beginning of the year. By then, I’d come to my senses.
My new position isn’t without its challenges. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, though, especially whenever I pass a newsstand and see the new edition of a magazine bearing my name as the assistant editor. You can Google me now, and the search will return information unrelated to my relationship with Julian Gage. I wouldn’t have been able to say the same if I gave up and went home to become an English teacher, as I considered when everything fell apart.
“Have you seen Nora yet?” I ask.
“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “She’s in full bridezilla mode, but in the best way possible. I think you’ve rubbed off on her.”
“How so?”
She grimaces. “She has lists.”
“Lists?”
“Lists,” she repeats with a nod. “And itineraries. She has one for you when you get here. I’ve already warned Izzy.”
“Do I want to know what’s on these lists or itineraries?”
“I can’t say for certain what’s on yours, but based on mine, I’m convinced she’s lost her damn mind. You need to come and run an intervention. Stat.”
I grin. “Why’s that?”
“I thought I’d enjoy a week of relaxation before the wedding. That girl has shit scheduled every day. Sightseeing shit.”
I stifle my laugh at the look of absolute displeasure crossing her face. I’ve often wondered how Chloe and Nora were such good friends. While Nora’s idea of a fun vacation is packing as much sightseeing and adventure into as short a time as possible, Chloe would much prefer to sit on a beach and have attractive men bring her fruity drinks as she works on her tan.
“At least you’re in Hawaii. It could be a lot worse.”
“The fact that I’m in Hawaii is what makes it unbearable. I should be shacking up with some hot islander who will breathe fire in my pussy. Instead, do you want to know what I’m tasked with doing during what should be a sex-filled vacation?”
“What’s that?”
“Making sure Jeremy’s best man keeps his dick in his pants. Apparently, he flirts with anything with a pulse. And since Nora knows I have a low tolerance for bullshit and charm, I’ve been given this exciting task.”
I laugh once more as Chloe brings her drink back to her lips. “I’m going to need this shit in an IV.”
“Remember. It’s all for Nora.”
“Yeah, well, Nora owes me after this. Anyway, I don’t want to take up much more of your time. I know you have a big thing tonight. I just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday.” She lifts her glass once more, toasting me. “Here’s to thirty-one. May this birthday be more memorable than the last.”
“Actually…,” I begin after a moment of contemplation, “my last birthday was pretty amazing. It just took me a while to realize it.”
“At least you finally did.” She holds my gaze for a moment longer, then seems to look past me. I glance over my shoulder to see Julian descending the staircase. I return my eyes to my phone. “Looks like Prince Charming’s here to take you to the ball. Have a good night, Evie. And happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Chloe. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I end the FaceTime call, then drop my phone into my clutch, whirling around as Julian approaches, his impassioned gaze raking over my body. It doesn’t matter we’ve known each other a year and are past the so-called honeymoon phase. He looks at me with the same desperation and desire every time. I get the feeling he always will.
His hand finds mine and he twirls me around, wanting the full effect of the cocktail dress Dana suggested I wear to tonight’s gathering. It’s more of a low-key event to celebrate the opening of Julian’s first overseas women’s shelter in the Middle East, something that wouldn’t have been possible without all the networking he did last summer.
He tugs my body into his as his free hand wraps around mine. Just like so many other times, I drape my arm over his shoulder, toying with the curls that fall over his jacket collar. Our bodies sway as he hums “Moon River”, which has become our song. There are times I hear it even when he’s fast asleep beside me. It’s the song of our love, one I hope will continue until we’re long gone.
He leans his forehead on mine, barely a breath between our bodies as we share this moment. We’ve done this same dance so many times over the course of our relationship. It’s never gotten old. I still feel the same spark, the same fluttering in my heart, the same craving to be in his universe. In fact, I feel it even deeper now that I finally know all sides of Julian Gage. And every day, I continue to fall more in love with every part of him.
When he stops humming, he lifts his head from mine and looks at me with a focused gaze. “You look beautiful, Guinevere.”
I bring my hands to the lapels of his suit jacket, smoothing them. “You clean up pretty good yourself.” I wink.
“I got something for you.”
“I told you…” I narrow my eyes on him. “No presents. You spoil me enough as it is. All I wanted for my birthday was to spend it with you.”
“What if I told you it’s not a birthday present?”
“I still don’t want it.”
“How about we test it out? I bought it to go with your outfit. Dana said it would really accentuate the jewels on the straps of your shoes. If you don’t like it, I’ll return it, okay?”
I playfully roll my eyes, feigning irritation. As much as I hate the thought of him spending money on me, I love that he spoils me. I love that he thinks of me so much.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He smiles, but it’s not as confident as usual. Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he pulls out a small box in that familiar blue hue unique to Tiffany’s. “I was planning on getting you something from Cartier instead, but figured Tiffany’s would have more meaning.”
My breath hitches as he repeats the same words he uttered on what was supposed to be our last night together. There’s only one possible way for me to respond to that. Tears fill my eyes as I stare at the leather box, knowing all too well what’s inside.
“It could be an empty box and it would be infinitely better than even the most expensive piece you could get from Cartier.”
“Phew.” He laughs nervously. “That’s a relief, because it really is just an empty box.”
“No, it’s not,” I whisper through the lump in my thr
oat.
“You’re right. It’s not.”
He drops to one knee and pops open the ring box, then grabs my left hand in his. I exhale at the stunning diamond that greets me. It’s a princess-cut stone that’s easily three carats, the band thin and inlaid with even more diamonds.
“Guinevere Shea Fitzgerald, I couldn’t have planned for you to walk into my life even if I tried. I’ll never forget sitting in the corner of a bar after meeting with a client, wondering if it’s all worth it, hearing you tell the entire place how you were dumped. All I could remember thinking is that I needed to know you. I’d spent most of my life running from love. And then there was you.
“Our relationship may not have been conventional by any stretch of the imagination, but that’s what I love about us. We broke the rules. We weren’t supposed to find each other, but we did.” He brings the ring up to my finger, unshed tears forming behind his eyelids. “We weren’t supposed to fall in love with each other, but we did. And I fall in love with you all over again every day. I want to continue to fall in love with you every day for the rest of my life. Do me the honor of being my wife, of taking a risk on me, of loving all the pieces of me.”
His words are everything I could have dreamed for a proposal, and more. I never expected Julian to drop to one knee after only a year. I thought he’d need more time to get used to being in a real relationship. But that’s what makes this so exciting, so exhilarating. I never saw it coming. It was never planned.
“I’m not quite sure getting engaged was on the itinerary,” I joke, remembering our early days when I insisted on a firm schedule of events. “At least, I didn’t see it there.” I grin, playfully batting my eyelashes.
He’s on his feet in an instant, yanking my body hard and fast against his, stealing my breath. He doesn’t even wait for me to say yes as he slides the ring onto my finger, where I plan to leave it for the rest of my days.
“Fuck the itinerary,” he growls as he kisses me for the first time as my fiancé.
Fuck the itinerary indeed.
Playlist
Memories Are Made of This - Dean Martin
Live Learn - The California Honeydrops
Little Black Dress - Sara Bareilles
S.O.B. - Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats
Showboat - Josh Ritter
Anybody Else - Jon McLaughlin
A Little Fire - Parker Millsap
Falling Slowly - Glen Hansard
Classic - MKTO
Fool In the Rain - Led Zeppelin
Fight Song - Rachel Platten
Run - Matt Nathanson
Reaching - Jason Reeves
Moon River - Henry Mancini
Summer is Over - Jon McLaughlin
Always Midnight - Pat Monahan
Put Me Back Together - Grace Grundy
What About Us - P!nk
3 Hours - Canyon City
Scarecrow - Alex & Sierra
The Shape of Us - Ian Britt
This Will Be Our Home - John Lucas
Never Got Away - Colbie Caillat
Capital Letters - Halloran & Kate
Dammit - Jana Kramer
Dear John - Julian Sheer
Extraordinary Magic - Ben Rector
Guiding Light - Mumford & Sons
I Hear a Symphony - Cody Fry
Have It All - Jason Mraz
First Try - Johnnyswim
Say You Do - Graham Colton
You - A Great Big World
Wicked Games
It all started in Vegas.
* * *
Now, I know what you're thinking...
* * *
What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in the city of sin. Normally, I'd be inclined to agree. Until Lincoln Moore walks into my life.
* * *
On paper, we mix as well as oil and water.
* * *
He's confident. Commanding. Successful.
* * *
Master of his universe.
* * *
I'm a hot mess, barely holding on as I struggle to balance my job, finally finishing college, and keeping my mother sober.
* * *
But when the lights go out, nothing else matters.
* * *
Until I learn the truth of who Lincoln Moore actually is.
* * *
Sure, I probably should have put the pieces together sooner, but our time together hasn't exactly been filled with riveting philosophical discussions about the meaning of life, if you know what I mean.
* * *
That still doesn't diminish the fact he could lose everything by being with me.
* * *
But is that enough to keep us apart? Or is what we have worth the risk?
* * *
There's only one way to find out.
* * *
Let the games begin...
Chapter One
I’ve often wondered what hell would be like.
Not really out of fear. More like curiosity.
Is it full of fire and brimstone, as I heard them speak of the handful of times my parents dragged me to church as a child?
Or maybe everyone’s hell is personal. Maybe Hitler’s hell is filled with all the people he thought were inferior to him. Jack the Ripper is probably surrounded by prostitutes who emasculate him, cutting his throat and abdomen. And Ted Bundy is most likely alone, not a single person there to impress or feel self-important around.
Just like my hell would be a nightclub fifty stories above the Vegas strip, drunk people grinding up against each other. And the sentence Lucifer would give me when I arrive at the fiery gates? To serve eternal damnation at a bachelorette party that never ends.
Yup. I have arrived at my own personal hell.
“Blowjobs! That’s what we need right now!”
I close my eyes, summoning the strength to feign excitement over the idea of drinking a disgustingly sweet mixture of Bailey’s, Kahlúa, and half-and-half, all topped with whipped cream. If my cousin, Hannah, and I weren’t like sisters when we were kids, I wouldn’t be wearing a a necklace of penises and a tight black tank top, “Bride’s Bitch” bedazzled on the front, enduring this bachelorette party that’s filled with one cliché after another.
I sure hope this city’s marketing slogan is correct. This entire experience needs to stay in Vegas.
“Yes!” Hannah slurs, agreeing with Bernadette, her older sister and maid of honor, who planned this excursion to the tenth circle of hell. She struggles to get up from the couch where she’s sitting, tripping over several pairs of legs as she attempts to flag down our cocktail waitress. “Blow jobs all around!”
Whistles and cheers erupt as two guys with far too much hair product jump at the opportunity to join us. “I’ll buy you those if you return the favor with the real thing,” the tall, slender blond says, his suggestive gaze scanning our group in a way that reminds me of someone selecting produce at a farmer’s market, looking for the ripest tomato, the juiciest peach.
I glance to my left, giving Izzy a knowing look. Hannah, Izzy, and I were inseparable growing up. For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine my life without them at my side. We went through all of life’s big changes together. Puberty. First boyfriends. First kisses. Then my parents divorced and my mom took me from Connecticut to New Jersey, where she unsuccessfully attempted to piece her life back together.
“I’m not sure you could handle the real thing,” a petite brunette named Carmen says, suggestively licking her lips.
Desperate for a break from what’s become a sex-charged day in the city of sin, I extract myself from our group.
“Bathroom?” Izzy asks. “Or did you change your mind on the scavenger hunt and decide to…” She picks up a printed piece of card stock and reads, “build a penis with objects found at the bar?” She rolls her eyes at the absurdity of it all.
“Tempting…” I give her a tight smile, “but I think I’ll pass. I’m going to the bar to get a drink.�
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“But they ordered blow job shots,” she retorts sarcastically, taking a sip of her vodka tonic.
“I refuse to do any shot made in such a way to make it appear I have cum on my face when I drink it.”
Izzy coughs, liquid spraying out of her nose and mouth.
“Who the hell invented that shot? Probably someone who didn’t give or receive blowjobs that often. If you do it right, you won’t end up with cum on your face. Unless that’s what you want. If that’s the case, more power to you. To each their own.”
She coughs a few more times, then clears her throat. “God, I’ve missed you, Chloe.”
“Missed you, too. Want anything?”
She holds up her glass. “I’m good.”
“Okay. I’m off to brave the elements.” I spin on my heels.
“Good luck,” she calls out.
At least now that night has fallen and we’re in a darkened space, the stereotypical tank top that’s been my bachelorette party uniform isn’t as noticeable. Bernadette thought each of us wearing a shirt with “Bride’s Bitch” on it was hysterical, and hers saying “Bitch of Honor” even more so. I bit my tongue so hard it almost bled in order to prevent myself from telling her how juvenile I think this entire weekend truly is. That it’s not the kind of bachelorette party Hannah envisioned. She’s too nice to say anything. She’s always been that way.
