“What?” I ask through my laughter. “You want to get married this Friday?”
“Baby, I said I’m all in. I don’t like to fuck around.”
“You’re so sexy when you’re decisive.”
He smiles and kisses me again.
“This is crazy,” I say. “Are we crazy?”
“Yeah,” he says. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
33
Epilogue: Weston
I pull open the door to the clinic and hold it for a guy who’s on his way out. He thanks me and I walk in, nodding to Jenna at the front desk. She stares at me while I head into the back, like she knows something is happening.
Tapping the manila envelope against my hand, I go straight for Ian’s office. I know he’s in—I had Tanya text me when he arrived. I didn’t want to have to wait around for him to show up or get out of an appointment.
I knock on his partially open door and let myself in.
He looks up at me from a stack of paperwork as if he’s dazed. His mouth hangs open and he blinks a few times, like he’s confused.
I hesitate, clutching the folder in my hands.
“I just got served with divorce papers,” he says.
Maybe if I wasn’t basically an asshole, I’d feel bad for him right now. But I don’t.
“Why do you look surprised?” I ask.
“What?” he asks. “We’ve been married over twenty years.”
“How long have you been cheating on her?”
He gapes at me, apparently without an answer.
I’m about to make his day considerably worse, but I’m hard pressed to feel even the slightest regret. He made his bed. He can lie in it.
I toss the manila folder on top of his divorce papers.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“It’s a buyout agreement,” I say. “I’m leaving the practice.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks. “You know I don’t have enough liquid capital to buy you out. I’ll have to close down.”
“Not my problem.”
“After everything I did for you, this is the thanks I get?”
“The guilt trip thing isn’t going to work,” I say. “I know you’ve been skimming money from the practice. You’ve been doing it for years. I have to give you credit, you hid it well. But I found all of it—the secret apartment where you’ve been taking your flings, the mistress you keep down in San Diego, the expense account you’re not supposed to have. My lawyer wrote up all the details in the packet there, but the gist of it is, if you buy me out now, I won’t turn you in for fraud.”
He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “What does your father think about all this?”
I shake my head. He’s really reaching—trying to bring the fear of daddy down on me. “Do you think I give even the slightest of fucks? I’ll be honest, Ian, I hope you refuse my offer. Because I’d love to turn you in and see you both go down. The thanks you want? It’s in that envelope. I’m giving you a chance to walk away. Take it or leave it.”
He stares at me, his mouth hanging open.
I turn and move toward the door, but pause and look over my shoulder. “By the way, I’m the one who told your wife.”
He coughs, making a harsh choking sound, but I walk away without looking back.
“So how did it go with Ian today?” Kendra asks.
I flick on the blinker and turn right, heading up the hill. “About how I thought. He wasn’t happy, but he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“Do your employees know yet?” she asks.
“Yeah, I sent an email explaining what’s happening. I’ll have jobs for some of them, and I’ll pay the people I can’t hire a good severance package. Everyone will be taken care of.”
“That’s good,” she says.
I pull up outside my house and the motion activated floodlights wink on. Kendra and I get out of the car and she follows me inside.
It’s quiet, and I flick on a few lights.
“Wow,” she says, looking around. “It’s really nice. Looks like you.”
“Thanks,” I say. We stop in the living room, and I glance around with my hands in my pockets. “It did turn out really well.”
Kendra walks over to one of the big windows, the city skyline sparkling in the darkness. “This view is amazing.”
It’s strange that I haven’t shown her the house yet. I guess I’ve already stopped thinking of it as mine. It didn’t seem all that important.
“Yeah, it is,” I say, gazing at her. “I figured you’d want to see it before I sell the place.”
“Sell?” she asks. “You’re selling your house? You just remodeled it.”
I shrug. “Well, we can live here if you want. But I like your house better.”
“Better than this?” she asks, gesturing around her. “My house is old and creaky. And small.”
“It is, but it has character,” I say. “And it’s on a flat street with a bigger lot. This place doesn’t have a yard at all. Besides, with this view I’ll make plenty of money on the sale to pay for the addition.”
“Addition?” she asks. “What addition?”
“Your house is only a two bedroom,” I say. “We’ll need to add on.”
“How many bedrooms do you think we need?” she asks.
I shrug again and give her a little smile. “I don’t know, how many kids do you want?”
Her lips part and she stares at me, her mouth moving like she’s trying to say something, but no sound comes out.
I step in and brush the hair back from her face, then lean in to kiss her.
Kendra was serious about not wanting a wedding, but we didn’t get married the week we returned from Napa. She wanted to wait until Alex and Mia got back from their honeymoon. So we waited an extra week.
We decided to make it a surprise, so we made plans with her family, telling them to meet us downtown. We gave them a time and an address, nothing more. They arrived to find me in a suit and tie, and Kendra in a flowing ivory dress. It was just reminiscent enough of a wedding dress that it took no time at all for her shocked family to realize what we were doing.
After we explained ourselves, everyone hugged for what felt like an eternity—this family hugs over everything—and we went into the courthouse. Mia bought Kendra a bouquet of flowers from a guy selling them outside the door. And there, in the presence of her dad, her brothers, her sister-in-law, and her niece, in a ceremony that took all of five minutes, Kendra gave me what would have been my dream wedding, had I ever dreamed about it before that day.
Short. Sweet. Perfect.
Afterward, I took everyone out to dinner to celebrate. I was happy Kendra got to share the experience with her family; I know how much they mean to her. Truth is, they mean a lot to me too. But for me, the thing that mattered the most was her. My girl. My wife.
I’m creating a life with Kendra that I thought I didn’t want. But really, I was just afraid to try. Afraid to be the sort of man who could love a woman this way.
I look at her now, her beautiful face silhouetted by the twinkling city lights through the windows. Fortunately for me, she made it easy. “I love you.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Weston?” she asks.
I just laugh.
“Wait, be serious though,” she says. “We’re going on a very extravagant honeymoon in New Zealand. You just left your job, and you’re about to open your own practice. We can’t afford to build an addition on my house anytime soon. You mean in a few years, right? Five? Maybe ten?”
“Our house, now,” I say. “And no, we can get started on it when we get back. Or wait, it’s up to you. But I have plenty of money.”
“You do?”
“Of course,” I say. “Didn’t I ever tell you about my mother?”
“What about her?”
“Her parents were wealthy,” I say. “Extremely wealthy. Probably why my dad married her. But the joke was on him. Before she died, she too
k her entire inheritance and put it in a trust for me. My dad was never able to touch her money.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s how I got through med school with no debt, bought this place, bought into Ian’s practice. Trust me, money is never going to be an issue.”
Kendra shakes her head slowly. “All this time, I was a gold digger and I didn’t even know it.”
We both laugh, and I kiss her forehead. I show her around the rest of the house, but in the end, we both agree that her little house is our home.
After I drive us home, Kendra changes into a pair of her ridiculous pajama pants—which is fine, because I know I’ll get to take them off her later. We get comfortable together on the couch and turn on a movie. I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head.
It’s a strange thing, to feel such a deep sense of contentment. I can’t remember a time in my life before Kendra when I was actually happy. But with her, I am. And knowing she’s mine—she’s my wife—melts some of the ice that used to encase my cold heart. It beats for her now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Always Have: Chapter 1
Kylie
Ten minutes to midnight, and I have no idea where my date is.
That’s the problem with letting your best friend set you up with someone for a New Year’s Eve party. It’s such a date sort of holiday, with all the pressure to have someone to kiss at midnight. I’m surrounded by couples—drinking, talking, kissing, slipping hands in naughty places when they think no one is looking—but I’m leaning against the kitchen island at my best friend Selene’s house, looking like an idiot as I comb the party for … what was his name?
Steven. Right, it’s Steven.
Things started off well enough. He showed up looking nice in a blue sweater and jeans. Clean-cut, smooth jaw. All in all, not a bad looking guy. I’m rocking a black mini-dress and a pair of fantastic red heels—because why not, it’s a holiday, and my red heels are hot. I wore my dark hair down and wavy, which makes me feel sexy, and I think I’ve finally perfected that smoky eye thing without making myself look like I got punched in the face. The way Steven’s gaze moved up and down when Selene introduced us, he seemed to like what he saw. We grabbed a couple drinks and made semi-awkward conversation, the way you do when you’re both the victims of a set-up and aren’t quite sure if agreeing was a good idea.
Two drinks in, he was leaning closer, and he did smell good. He said he’s an accountant, and I had to stop myself from choking on my beer. Selene set me up with an accountant? Then again, I was just telling her that I need to stop dating the wrong guys. Hot men with killer abs who are stallions in bed are fun, but they’re not necessarily the kind you bring home to meet your father. And as much as I do not want to admit it, I’m not in my early twenties anymore. Hell, I’ve passed my mid-twenties at this point, and thirty is getting awfully close. I feel like maybe it’s time to get serious about this adulting thing—quit chasing the bad boys with fabulous cocks, and find someone responsible. Mature. In fact, it’s one of my new year’s resolutions.
Steven seemed like he fit the bill, although the more we chatted the more I realized I felt absolutely nothing for him. No desire to inch closer and accidentally-on-purpose brush against him. No temptation to tilt my chin up and lick my lips to draw attention to my mouth. No finding excuses to put my hand on his arm.
I was kind of bored.
Still, that’s no excuse for the guy to wander off and ditch me just before midnight.
Music blares through the speakers; the living room turned into a dance floor about an hour ago. I see Selene, swaying to the music with her boyfriend Nathan. It’s a fast song with a good beat, but they’re acting like two kids at prom, slow dancing as if no one else is around. I’m happy for Selene. I wasn’t so sure about Nathan at first. He struck me as too much the bad boy type—or, more accurately, the Selene type, which is not necessarily a good thing—but he actually seems pretty nice.
Selene’s been my best friend since we were kids; my father was their family’s lawyer. She and her twin brother Braxton lost their parents when they were ten, and my dad saw to the estate and managed the trust that contained their parents’ considerable fortune. It meant I spent a lot of time roaming around their big house, the three of us getting into all sorts of trouble together. Over the years, we’ve stayed close. If anything, we’re better friends as adults than we were as scabby-kneed kids.
I search the crowd for Steven again and see Hope trying to murder me with her eyes. Hope is Braxton’s girlfriend, and she hates me with a seething passion I can feel from across the room. I pretend I don’t notice her. She’s disliked me from the first time we met, about a month ago. I don’t let her ire concern me in the least. This is Braxton we’re talking about. Braxton’s relationships never last. He’s way too much of a player to stick with anyone.
I give Hope another month, two if she sucks his dick regularly.
Still, I don’t understand why she hates me so much, other than the fact that I’m Braxton’s best friend. She must assume that means friends with benefits. It’s never been that way with me and Brax, though. We’ve never even fooled around. It’s one of the main tenets of our friendship—the thing that makes this guy/girl thing work, despite the fact that Braxton seems to want to stick his dick in half the women in Seattle. He and I don’t cross that line.
Not that I haven’t considered it. Braxton isn’t the type of man you can be around without thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Or fuck him. Because if there’s any man in this world who is totally and completely fuckable, it’s Braxton Taylor.
But I leave that to the steady stream of women who flit in and out of his life, and keep him firmly in the friend zone.
Selene and Nathan wander over from the makeshift dance floor. Selene’s house is amazing. She still lives in the house she and Braxton grew up in, a fucking mansion in Phinney Ridge. Braxton insisted she keep it, and after college he bought himself a condo not far from here, just off Greenwood. The house is deceiving from the outside. It’s like one of those magical Harry Potter tents—looks pretty normal from the street, but once you walk in, it’s breathtaking. It has six bedrooms, a huge living, dining, and kitchen area with soaring ceilings, an old-fashioned study, and great views from upstairs. Braxton and I don’t live here, but we still have our own bedrooms, leftover from our college days. Selene used to bug me about moving back in with her—the house is definitely way too big for one person—but I prefer to live on my own. There’s a certain weirdness in leaning on their money, even though both of them have plenty. I have an apartment about ten minutes away, but I crash here when the occasion arises. I definitely will tonight—although, sadly, it appears I’ll be sleeping alone.
Selene stands next to me while Nathan pours drinks at the counter.
“Awesome night, huh?” she says. “Where’s Steven?”
She looks glorious in a shimmering, sleeveless gold top and black skirt, with her brown hair pinned up. She has a Victoria’s Secret model body—tall and effortlessly thin, with fantastic boobs.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess he went to the bathroom or something.”
“Well, you better find him,” Selene says. “It’s almost midnight.”
Someone turns on the flat screen to the New Year’s countdown. Nathan hands Selene her drink and they go back into the midst of the party.
I decide to do a lap to see if I can find this date of mine. The least the guy can do is make sure I’m not the only one at this party standing alone to ring in the new year. We
don’t have to make out, but someone to clink glasses with would be nice. He didn’t even tell me where he was going; he just mumbled something about being right back. That was at least ten minutes ago.
I don’t see him among the people dancing, and he isn’t grazing on the snacks set out in the dining room. The downstairs bathroom is empty, although a girl ducks in front of me and darts in, closing the door behind her. The study door is closed—Selene doesn’t usually want guests in there—but I peek inside, just in case. It’s empty. I check my bedroom, which isn’t far from the kitchen. No one in there either.
I walk to the entry foyer and find a couple making out next to the coat rack, but neither of them are Steven. I don’t know why he’d go upstairs, but I figure I’ll check. The wide staircase curves to an upper balcony. I take another look from the top, but don’t see him anywhere.
The music is quieter upstairs, and I hear the distinct sound of moaning. Oh lord, am I about to walk in on someone getting it on in the hallway? Are we at a fucking frat party? It’s dark, but I walk a little farther and definitely see someone—two someones. The guy has the girl pressed up against the wall, his hand up her shirt. She’s giggling as he kisses down her neck.
I don’t want to intrude, so I’m just about to hightail it back downstairs when I recognize the guy’s sweater. Wasn’t Steven wearing blue? There’s not much light but—
He turns his head just enough, and I get a glimpse of his face. It’s definitely Steven.
I back up quickly, tip-toeing so they won’t notice me. Fuck. Of course my date would make out with some other woman at the New Year’s party. That pretty much sums up my love life right there.
So much for the responsible and mature accountant.
I head back downstairs, planning to retreat to my room. Selene will ask about Steven if she sees me, and I don’t want to ruin her night by telling her what happened. I’ll make her feel guilty about setting me up with a douchebag later. Tonight is her party, and I don’t want to mess it up for her.
Cocky Roommate Page 21
