by Max Monroe
“Really?” she questioned, grabbing me by the hair at the back of my head and playfully shaking it back and forth. “I think it’d be great. Injuries bring people together. Look at what it did for us.”
“That’s true,” I mused. “If only I’d known about the power of a head laceration earlier.”
“What? You would have used it sooner on another woman?”
I shook my head and touched my lips to hers. “What other women? Do other women exist?”
She smacked me on the chest and rolled her eyes at my theatrics, and only then did I remember what had brought me down the stairs in the first place.
“Now, what is it you’re looking for? A schmoodle? Or a hot s’more? I’ve got no fucking clue what you were saying.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “Yeah, I was just making up words. I knew you’d come down if I kept it up long enough.”
“Oh yeah? Did you miss me or something?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded and rubbed the tip of her nose against the tip of mine.
“What part of me did you miss most?” I asked softly, the succulent skin of her lips tickling the nerves in mine as they skimmed together.
Her eyes widened, almost comically because of our proximity, and I laughed at the words she didn’t have to say.
“Yeah, I thought that might be your favorite.”
“I was thinking about your brain,” she lied.
I nipped at her lips and then skated my own down the silky skin of her neck. “Sure you were.”
“I was! I’m starting medical school tomorrow, and I could really use your knowledge. Can you take all of my tests for me?”
I laughed and squeezed her hips, scrunching my nose. “I don’t think that’ll help you actually treat patients. And since you want to treat kids—”
“And kids are your weakness,” she finished for me with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, I get it. You don’t want my incompetence to kill them. It’s really selfish of you, but I guess I understand.”
My phone buzzed on my ass and made me jump.
It took some work to shift Harlow enough to get to my back pocket to retrieve it, but somehow, I managed—not that Harlow helped at all.
She laughed when she got a look at my exasperated face. “What? I’m more important than your phone.”
She had no idea how right she was. Lips to hers, I parted the seam with my tongue and showed her.
Our breathing was noticeably heavier when we broke apart—at least at the mouth. Our bodies were still a tangle of limbs.
“You’re the most important. This phone call could be the President of the United States for all I care.”
Of course, it was more likely that the call was actually from my mother. A week we’d been gone, and she already thought living on opposite coasts was the worst thing ever to happen to her and called me at least once a day to remind me.
Harlow’s face softened into a thoughtful frown. “Are you going to miss New York?”
I lifted my hand to her jaw, stroking the apple of her cheek with my thumb, and shrugged. “I don’t know, doll. But I’m fine as long as I don’t have to miss you.”
She sighed. “I love you, Scott.”
“Frances,” I started, causing a playful frown. I wiped it away with my thumb. “You have no idea.”
One year later…
“I promise to love and honor you in all the ways that count,” she recited from the small, worn piece of paper in her hands.
Her vows. I’d watched her rub them nervously all morning, so much so that the paper felt soft to the touch. I could tell by the way she rubbed at it to steady all of her shaking nerves.
It was a big day.
Maybe the biggest. And I’d been expecting it since that first night at Kinky Boots.
Flowers dotted every flat surface of St. Matthew’s Cathedral, and the colorful light filtering through the stained-glass windows made the whole room feel like magic.
“I’ll do my best to give you the space you need when you need it, and fill that very void the rest of the time.
“I know I’m crazy and impetuous—”
I bit my lip to contain my laugh at her truth in reporting and got a stern look from the green-eyed goddess across the aisle. Apparently, this wasn’t the time to goof off.
“But you know just how to handle it. Thank you for loving me for who I am at the same time as making me want to be a better person. Most people don’t have it in themselves to watch calmly from the sidelines as I do ridiculous things.”
No longer able to contain my laughter, I drew the attention of everyone in the church, including one particularly unhappy bride.
My mother.
“Scott!”
“Sorry, Mom,” I apologized quietly. “Continue.” Harlow’s smirk warmed me from her spot across the aisle as “best man” to her father.
We’d flown in three days ago for the start of the wedding festivities for Bill and Nicole soon-to-be Paige, and there hadn’t even been one solid hour that passed without someone making a joke about Harlow and my new relation—stepsiblings, as it were.
Harlow’s dark red lips moved silently. “You’re naughty,” I could have sworn she mouthed.
I winked, mouthing the word “Later” back at her.
Bill cleared his throat and pulled his own vows out of his breast pocket. Apparently, we’d moved along while I was busy checking out my woman.
“Nicole.”
He took a deep breath and cleared his throat again, reaching up to swipe underneath his eye.
He was crying. Another perfect match. Tanner and Linda, Harlow and me, and now, Nicole and Bill.
“This far into the total expectancy of my life, I’d thought I was done. Done with the major milestones and the greatest joys. Done learning new things and meeting new and unexpected people. Done making major changes to my very routine life.
“I was happy. I had friendship and the love of a great daughter, and I didn’t feel unfulfilled.”
Choked up again, he had to pause and lick his lips while he composed himself.
I was feeling a little emotional myself. And, when I glanced up and across the space to the love of my life, it was pretty clear I wasn’t alone.
Fresh tears marred her wedding makeup and her bottom lip quivered, but Harlow looked content. I didn’t see even an ounce of the unsettled energy that used to consume her—the energy of a woman who’d decided to settle on a life she didn’t want in an attempt to avoid heartache.
My transformation wasn’t any less significant. The Scott of old at this wedding would have had one distinct thought. Danger, ladies! Take a look at the kind of man Scott Shepard will never be!
As it turns out, I could be wrong occasionally. I never would have thought.
“I had no idea,” Bill Paige continued. “No idea what life could be if I just opened myself up to it. With you, I know I’ll be forever grateful that I did. Thanks for waking me up, baby. I promise, when it comes to us, I’ll never sleep again.”
Harlow’s eyes glowed majestic as they held mine. I was spellbound, now and forever.
Right on, Bill.
Who needed dreaming when this was what it felt like to be awake?
“Another beer, Frances?” Amanda half slurred and flashed a lazy grin in my direction. Her blond hair glided across her shoulders as loud laughter left her lips.
I grinned. Life was good. I was on spring break from my fourth year in med school, currently living it up in the city that would always hold a special place in my heart with the only man ever to have my heart. Life couldn’t get any better. Not to mention, Amanda was drunk and visiting home with her Spanish lover. Well, now husband.
Yes. She’d not only fallen in love with her client, but she’d up and married the man and changed her nationality in the process. Officially a citizen of Spain for the past two years, my best friend had never looked happier.
I missed her like crazy, but God, I was happy for her. Happy for both of us, actually
. And although our lives had taken completely different paths, we were still as close as ever. FaceTime and Skype and twice yearly visits to see one another helped with that.
As the four of us sat inside of Radio Star, a popular karaoke bar in Midtown, drinking beer and watching the crowd showcase their drunkest vocals, I knew with certainty that life couldn’t get any better than this.
“Are you gonna be a little pussy, Lances?” Amanda all out slurred this time, and I flipped her the bird from across the table.
“Shut up, drunky.”
“I’m dot srunk! You’re drunk!” she shouted back, and I couldn’t fight the smile that consumed my face.
“Exactly.”
Mateo wrapped his arm around his wife and chuckled. “I think you’ve hit your quota, mi amor.”
She raised her glass directly in front of his face and frowned. “But I’m all out.”
Instead of responding, he merely set her glass back down on the table and kissed his wife until she basically forgot her fucking name. It was more than apparent that the man knew when to pick his battles. I liked him on principle alone.
Scott wrapped his arm around my shoulder and tucked me close to his side. “What’s the over under?” he asked on a whisper, and I tilted my head to the side in confusion. “How many minutes will they last until they have to leave to go do the sex?”
“Hmmm…” I tapped my chin with my index finger and glanced back at Amanda and Mateo. Considering they were still engaged in a battle of the lips and tongues, something had to give soon. “I give them another ten minutes tops.”
Scott grinned. “I’m going with five minutes.”
I quirked a surprised brow. “Five minutes? Really?”
“Yes, really,” he answered and kissed the corner of my mouth. “What are we wagering?”
I shrugged. “What do you want to wager?”
“If I win, you have to promise to actually consider the idea of marriage.”
I rolled my eyes. “And if I win?”
“No proposals for the next ninety days.”
“Ninety days?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
He raised his brow. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Of course I don’t,” I answered quickly. Probably too fucking quickly with the way Scott was grinning at me like the Cheshire cat. “It’s a deal, buddy,” I said and held out my hand.
He shook it without blinking an eye, and I didn’t like it.
The bastard was pretty damn confident. Too fucking confident, in my opinion.
And unfortunately for me, not even two minutes later, Amanda and Mateo were able to break their lips’ suction and stand up from their seats.
“We’re leaving!” she shouted so loudly that her voice carried over the woman on stage singing “Like a Virgin” at the top of her lungs. “I want to have sex!” she added, and Mateo just smiled his million-dollar smile.
Seriously. His smile was literally worth one million dollars. Not only had he obtained quite the success in his music career, he’d also become the apple of a lot of women’s eyes.
“No, don’t go! Stay a little longer,” I exclaimed and hopped to my feet. I glanced down at my watch and noted that I literally needed another six minutes to pass to even come close to winning the bet. “Just six more minutes, please!”
Amanda shook her head. “Nope. I want the sex. With my husband.”
“But you can always have sex with your husband,” I whined, and Scott chuckled softly beside me.
“Sorry, Low,” Amanda said and hugged me tightly. “Call me in the morning so we can meet for breakfast, ’kay?”
“But…but…” I started, but Amanda and Mateo were on a fucking mission. They tossed out their goodbyes and were out the door before I could come up with any other excuse.
I sat back down in my seat on a sigh.
Fucking hell.
“Tough loss, huh?” he whispered into my ear.
I shook my head. “I’m ignoring you.”
Obviously, I was a sore loser. But, seriously? I’d only lost by mere minutes.
Goddammit, Amanda. Why did my best friend have to be such a dirty slut for her husband’s penis? What happened to the marriages that made people want sex less? If anything, since she’d married Mateo, she only talked about how she wanted sex more.
Maybe I needed a new best friend?
While Scott tried to coax me into a conversation, I turned my head back toward the stage and watched as the fortysomething woman continued to sing her off-tune rendition of Madonna into the microphone. “Like a virgin! Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh! I’m a horny virgin!”
“Horny virgin?” Scott whispered to me. “I don’t remember those lyrics.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at the absurdity and met his gaze with a grin. “I think she’s freestyling.”
He quirked an amused brow. “Freestyling? In karaoke?”
God, my man was handsome. After being together for over four years, I couldn’t believe how one simple look into his gorgeous brown eyes still had the power to take my breath away.
“You should know,” I retorted. “You’re the karaoke expert.”
He winked. “All I know is that I can’t wait for your performance.”
I scrunched up my nose. “I might have agreed to come to this karaoke bar, but I’m not fucking getting up on stage,” I declared, and he just grinned.
As the last beats of “Like a Virgin” left the speakers, the MC for the night hopped on stage and took the microphone from the woman’s hands before she could start an encore.
“All right,” he announced to the crowd. “Next up, we have Frances!”
I looked around the room for the next victim, but when no one stood and he shouted Frances into the microphone again, I looked at Scott with a scowl.
“No fucking way,” I muttered. “Tell me you didn’t sign me up for this shitshow.”
He nodded and smirked. “What are you waiting for, Frances? Get up there and show ’em what you got!”
“Come on, Frances,” the MC said again. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart!”
I looked at Scott and then back at the MC. I had two options: I could either lose both battles for the night, or I could at least walk away with one victory.
Obviously, I needed a victory, and I knew exactly how I could get it.
After a quick smile flashed into Scott’s oblivious direction, I stood up from my chair and hopped on the stage and took the microphone from the MC.
“My boyfriend is a little shy,” I told the crowd. “I think Frances just needs a little bit of reassurance,” I said and pointed straight at Scott.
His jaw dropped as I continued to point at him and chant, “Frances! Frances! Frances!”
Once everyone else in the bar joined me, a giant smile consumed Scott’s face.
“Come on, Frances! I know you can do it!” I cheered. “Everyone wants to hear your beautiful voice.”
Scott got to his feet and jumped on stage beside me. After one quick spank to my ass, he took the mic from my hands and whispered into my ear, “You’re so getting it later.”
I sure fucking hoped so.
But I didn’t waste any time dallying on stage, I quickly got back to my seat and left Scott to deal with the now overly enthusiastic crowd wanting to hear Frances sing.
For once in my life, that goddamn name actually worked to my benefit.
“Just bear with me for a second,” Scott told the crowd and leaned over to the DJ to tell him something.
Once they appeared on the same page, he looked toward the crowd and grinned.
“This one is for my beautiful girlfriend, Harlow.”
“Awww!” one woman in the audience sighed.
“God, he’s hot,” another one chimed in. “I wish he was my boyfriend!”
I flashed a glare in the last one’s direction. Slow your roll, lady. He’s mine.
Once the initial beats of a song I’d figured was Shakira’s “Hips Don�
��t Lie” began, I settled into my seat to enjoy my handsome and very sexy boyfriend’s performance.
But “Hips Don’t Lie” didn’t come.
I didn’t recognize it right off the bat, but it was definitely something else. The beat was a bit slower but still upbeat and pop nonetheless.
Once the lyrics started to leave his lips, I couldn’t believe my fucking ears.
Scott was belting out “Marry Me” by Train.
What the what?
Surely, it was just for fun. I mean, I knew I’d lost that bet, but he wouldn’t ask me to marry him right now, in a fucking karaoke bar, right?
I shook off the crazy thoughts and just focused on how goddamn sexy he looked up on stage. But my focus went to shit when not even halfway through the song, he stopped singing and the DJ cut the music.
Scott got down on one knee.
And pulled a small black box out of his pocket.
Oh. My. God.
My heart stopped beating for what felt like a minute before it stuttered back into a pounding rhythm.
“Harlow Paige,” he said into the microphone with his gaze locked with mine. “I love you. You are my heart. My home. My life. I want to spend the rest of my life making you smile and laugh. I want forever with you, Low.”
“Are you really doing this right now?” I called toward him and he grinned.
“I really am,” he answered. “And, if I do recall, you just promised that you’d consider the idea.”
Holy shit. My hand went to my mouth on its own accord.
“Frances Harlow Paige. My lover. My best friend. My sister,” he added with a teasing grin. “Will you marry me?”
“Oh my God, stepsister! Don’t make people think we’re inbreds,” I corrected, and he just chuckled in response.
“Get your ass up here and tell me yes, Low.”
This wasn’t his first proposal. Over the past six months, Scott had made a game of playfully asking me to marry him. He’d proposed in the grocery store. At the gas station. Even while we were waiting in line at a fast food drive-thru. And every single time, I’d answered no. But, this time was different. He didn’t have to tell me twice.
