by Gage Grayson
He sounds so earnest and sincere, I feel my bitterness and anger wane—even though I still want to cling to it.
“So, me being pregnant with your baby has nothing to do with it?”
His jade eyes soften, and I feel a massive lump in my throat.
“That is part of it, but not all of it.”
“So, if I wasn’t pregnant, you wouldn’t be here?” I bite back.
“Honestly? No, I wouldn’t be here. I—”
I scoff and move to walk away, but he holds me firmly in place.
“Let me finish at least,” he says with a firm tone that has me willing to hear him out. “I wouldn’t be here now at the prom, but I would’ve come back.”
My eyes look at him with a blend of skepticism and hope.
“Brooke, after I left here, nothing felt right. Being here, with you, showed me that I was missing something so vital, so necessary.”
“That’s great and all, Dylan, but what about when your position at the law firm drags you back to New York? I love you, Dylan, so much that it scares me. but I refuse to go through the pain of you walking away for another time. I just—”
“I’m not going back to New York, Brooke.”
I’m already fighting back tears—my eyes are already stinging—but his words spin me about and throw me for a loop. “You’re not going back?”
“No,” he answers with a shake of his head. “I resigned as a partner. Already put my condo up for sale.”
“Dylan! What? Why? It’s everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
Dylan laughs—likely at the irony of me defending everything that made him leave in the first place.
“I did work hard for it. I made a world up there where I was king. But none of that matters, Brooke. Not without you. You are so much bigger than that world I’ve made.”
His hands cup the sides of my face, and I feel myself nuzzle into his palms as this crashing wave of contentment washes over me. All of the bitterness, resentment, and anger just fade away into nothingness. And any lingering doubt of Dylan’s sincerity is blown away when I feel the touch of his lips against mine.
“There is nowhere else I belong other than here with you, our friends, our family, and our baby.”
I move to kiss him again, only to feel him step back from me. And before I can question it, he slips down on one knee.
Everything feels as if it’s stuck in some slow motion bubble. All the students backing away to give us space, the sound of Jessie giggling with excitement—even the music feels as though it’s been slowed down.
Dylan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box, and when he opens it, I don’t even try to fight back the tears. The sight of his mother’s engagement ring shining in the light is all it took to push me over that ledge.
“Brooke Caitlynn Sinclair, will you marry me?”
I nod furiously, “Yes! Yes!”
The world suddenly comes crashing into focus, and everything speeds back up to normal time.
Dylan slips the antique ring on my finger, and I throw my arms around him as he stands. The gym erupts into thunderous applause and cheers as I kiss the man I love.
Chapter 39
Dylan
Who would have thought that one three-letter word could have such power behind it?
I knew that when Brooke agreed to marry me that I would be elated and overjoyed, but what I’m feeling right now is that and so much more. This feeling is so incredibly overwhelming that I didn’t know it was possible for a person to feel this way.
As soon as we part from our kiss, I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. When I turn to face the source, I’m greeted by Eric, beaming at me happily.
“Congratulations, Dylan.”
We embrace each other in a brotherly hug. We may not be blood, but the man is most certainly my family—and my brother.
Eric and Jessie switch places, and the blonde throws her arms around me.
“Eric and I better be the fucking godparents,” she says in my ear.
Her tone is light, playful even, but there’s a hint of finality behind it—as if she’ll slash my tires if I don’t but pay for them afterward.
“Don’t worry. There’s nobody else in the world we would rather have than you two. Well, at least you anyway. Not sure about Big Mac,” I answer with a laugh, and Jess joins in.
“Sounds good to me. I’ve already started buying World’s Best Godmother stuff online, and I don’t want to return them.”
“Alright, you two. Get out of here and go celebrate.”
I nod in agreement with Eric’s suggestion, but Brooke shakes her head.
“What? No, we can’t. Well, not yet. I still have to chaperone for the night.”
Eric wraps his arm around Jessie’s waist and pulls her into him. “Nope. That’s why I brought this one along. Besides, I already talked to Helen, and you’re not needed.”
Brooke looks at Eric with a raised eyebrow and then back to me; the suspicion in her gaze makes the three of us laugh.
“You two knew this was coming…because he told you about it before he got here, didn’t he?”
“Guilty as charged,” I admit with a shrug. “Now, let’s do as the man says and go celebrate.”
Brooke nods in agreement this time around, and the two of us make our exit to another round of applause and cheers, as if we’re some kind of royalty leaving the church after being married.
We get into my rental and drive across town to Brooke’s house. The drive isn’t all that long, but it gives me time to answer her questions and reveal how Eric and Jessie were part of the whole thing.
I let Brooke enter the house first and hang back by the front door as she turns on the lights.
The gasp of surprise that she lets out may as well be an angelic choir.
“Dylan Jonas Andrews! Did you do this?”
I take Brooke’s exclamation as my cue to enter and soak in the sight of her. Her eyes are filled with tears of joy as she surveys the yellow rose petals on her floor, chilled sparkling cider, candles ready to be lit, and Varsity Blues queued up on Netflix.
“How did you even get in here?”
“Jessie’s got a spare key, remember?”
“That bitch! Remind me to thank her tomorrow,” she says with a warm smile.
Brooke rushes over to me and throws her arms around my neck, pulling me in for a maddeningly passionate kiss.
“If you’re looking to get laid, Mr. Andrews, your plan worked,” she coos teasingly.
“Damn, and the wings aren’t even here yet.”
Her sapphire eyes go wide with surprise for a brief second. “You ordered wings, too?”
“Yeah. They should be here in about an hour actually.”
“Fuck, I love you.”
I don’t have the opportunity to laugh as Brooke’s lips are pressed forcibly against my own.
In no time, our kiss deepens, and our tongues dance together as she moves to peel off my tux jacket.
My hands cup Brooke’s firm ass, and I lift her up into my chest. A soft moan of approval spills into our kiss.
I begin my journey from the living room to the stairs when Brooke breaks our kiss with a confused look.
“No sex in the rose petals?”
“No! You kidding me? You know how long it took to get that set up? I’m not ruining that meticulous masterpiece.”
She laughs, and we kiss again.
I lay Brooke down on her bed and slide my hands up underneath her dress, our lips never parting.
My fingers slip under the band of her lace panties, and I waste no time in pulling them off her hips.
I stand up from Brooke and lay her legs out over my chest. She bites down on her lip as she looks up at me and watches me slide the black lace off her.
I kneel down beside the ledge of the bed and grab Brooke’s thighs. With one deft movement, I pull her toward me, within reach of my lips.
My tongue lashes out and flicks at the underside of her cl
it. An approving, husky moan escapes her and spurs me on further.
Brooke slides her dress up over her body and lets it fall to the floor on the other side of the bed as my hands start to slide up the length of her body. They stop to linger against her taut stomach, and I feel her hands close around mine.
I look up at her from between her thighs, and our eyes meet. No words need to be spoken, and she simply smiles in blissful content—a feeling I, myself, am lost in.
She pulls my hands up from her stomach and over her round, firm tits, her nipples stiffening against the touch of my palm.
My thumbs rub against her pert, pink buds as my lips embrace her clit in a wet, tongue-filled kiss that pulls more intoxicating moans from her lips.
“Yes…yes…right there. Don’t stop.”
I feel her grasp at the sheets as her back arches up. Her hips move against my tongue, and I can hear and feel the pace of her breathing quickening.
Brooke’s thighs begin to quiver, and her moans grow louder as they begin to blend with ecstatic screams until she finally succumbs.
With jagged breaths, Brooke reaches down and pulls me up from between her legs.
Our lips meet, and Brooke’s hunger is overpowering. Her lips and tongue quickly take control of our kiss as she blindly tries to remove my clothes.
I stand to remove my vest, shirt, and bow tie, and Brooke’s hand feverishly work at removing my pants.
Before I’ve even unfastened my shirt, I feel my throbbing cock being freed from my boxer briefs and enveloped by Brooke’s kiss swollen lips.
The feeling of her tongue sliding along the length of my shaft has me moaning and my fingers fumbling over the last of my shirt’s buttons.
I feel Brooke take more of me into her mouth, and I can’t help but growl. She lets out a delighted hum in her throat.
Every part of me feels as if it’s on fire as she bobs her head up and down the length of my thick cock, her hand trailing her plump lips with twisting strokes as she goes.
Instead of fumbling with the last of my buttons, I rip the shirt apart and let it fall behind me.
With a hungry growl, I reach down and lift Brooke up into my bare chest. I can feel her body vibrating with excitement against my own as I carry her further up on the bed.
Her thighs flank my hips and wrap around me. With one hand, I keep myself propped up, and I use the other to slide along her bare thigh.
Our eyes are locked in an intensely passionate gaze that doesn’t break until I slide my cock in between the folds of her wet pussy. My face moves to her neck, and my lips devour her supple skin.
Her arms wrap around my neck, and I feel her fingers dig into my back as my hips rock into her, her breathy moans spilling into my ear.
Brooke’s hips begin to push back against mine in tandem, our bodies moving like seasoned dancers.
Her throaty moans hitch and catch her throat as her nails dig deeper into my flesh.
Her hips rock harder and faster against mine, and I feel the goosebumps on her warm skin against my own.
My own breathing quickens, and I feel the muscles in my stomach clench of their own accord.
I move my lips from the crook of her neck to her lips.
Brooke’s body shudders, and I feel her clench around my cock before suddenly exploding against me. I’m certain that her nails break my skin as she relishes in her climax, but I don’t care as I feel an explosion of my own.
I bear down against her, forcing my cock as deep as I can as I pulsate and throb inside her, filling her with every last drop I have.
We collapse onto each other, our bodies intertwined like vines. I know now, more than ever before, that Brooke is the only woman I could ever—or want to—love.
“Dylan, I love you.”
Her husky declaration has me looking down into her eyes—her beautiful baby blues that shine with such softness and love.
I can’t help but kiss her and lean my forehead against hers.
“I love you too, Brooke. I always have. And from now until forever, I will show you each and every day just how much you mean to me.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Chapter 40
Dylan
“When the fuck did you get so good at golf?”
I look up at my father, smirking, as I pull my ball from the hole.
“Pops, I’ve been able to beat you for years.”
“Since when?”
“Oh, since about my second year at Harvard.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Professor Marcus liked to take a handful of us to the course every Sunday. Not only did I get really good at golf, but I learned more about being a lawyer playing golf than I ever did in the classroom. But, because I’m a good son, I always let you and Mom win whenever you came to visit.”
Dad looks over at Eric but points to me.
“Can you believe this guy?”
“Hey, don’t look at me. I suck at golf. I just came for the beer.”
The three of us laugh and start toward our golf carts.
“So you’ve been letting me win all these years? Why?”
“Same reason you always let Mom win,” I answer as we take our seats in the carts.
“Oh, I’ve never let your mom win, Pickle. Your mom always kicked my ass clean at golf.”
I look over at my dad with a raised eyebrow and grin. I’ve spent all my life thinking that my father had always let my mother win at golf, and, apparently, I’ve been wrong and had underestimated my mother’s skills.
“You know, if you want to feel better about this, you two can let me win next time,” Eric muses as he pulls his cart up beside ours.
“No,” my father and I respond in unison.
“Gee…thanks, guys,” Eric says in a deadpan tone.
“Hey, we’re giving you a shit ton of money to open two new spots in Houston and Dallas,” I point out.
“And I got to enjoy some fancy beer, too.”
“Heineken isn’t fancy beer, Eric. It’s actual beer and not watered down piss.”
“Those are fighting words.”
“Would you two like to settle this lovers’ quarrel alone?” Dad asks jokingly as he looks between us.
Being back home in Texas these last eight months or so has been amazing—thanks to moments like this.
My father and I are working together and are closer than we’ve ever been. Being a lawyer was once something I believed I was always meant to do, but now I know that I belong by my father’s side, looking after the future of our family.
My friendship with Eric and Jessie has never been stronger, and now my father and I are investing money into their bar so that they can expand into larger territories, which is what our business meeting over golf and beer was about today.
And every day with Brooke has been better than the last, even when she wakes me up at three in the morning to get her chocolate milk and wings. Thankfully, Eric and Jessie were kind enough to give me their cool ranch dry rub recipe so that I could make it at home for Brooke when needed.
But, most importantly, I’ve discovered my true calling in life. And that is to be the best husband and father that I can to my family.
The three of us laugh and joke as we head back to the clubhouse. The exact details of the investment are inconsequential—Eric is family, after all—and this is more just to hammer out a broad agreement and get one last round of golf in before Brooke has the baby.
“Speaking of Houston and Dallas, do you have any properties picked out yet?”
“A couple of really great spots in Houston are available, but I did put in a bid for a spot in Dallas right by Klyde Warren Park.”
My father nods approvingly. “Good spot. Lots of people traffic through that area. Would be perfect for you, especially in Dallas.”
“The one I really want in Houston is half a block from NRG Stadium. If we could get that—”
“Consider it done,” my father interrupts, much to E
ric’s delight.
“Seriously, Mr. Andrews?”
“Seriously. I have plenty of contacts in Houston. I’ll make some calls tonight.”
“Man, Jessie is going to be fucking excited to hear that. She’ll end up moving there.”
When we reach the parking lot, the phone in my pocket begins to vibrate against my thigh. The muffled noise sounds more like an angry duck than a phone.
“Hello.” I don’t even bother to look at who’s calling.
“It’s time,” I hear Jessie say frantically on the other end.
It makes me pause dead in my tracks.
“It’s time? You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Her water broke, and we’re on our way to the hospital now.”
“Alright. You got the bag with the spare clo—”
“Dylan, shut up and move.”
I hang up and look at my father and Eric as they stare back at me with bated breath.
“So, it’s time. Brooke’s having the baby.”
“Well, we better get moving then,” my father says excitedly.
The three of us jump into my dad’s Range Rover and speed off to the hospital.
My body vibrates as we drive. Sitting still feels utterly impossible as the adrenaline courses through my body.
The moment is here. It’s finally here.
I get to greet my baby.
Neither Brooke nor I know what we’re having. We want to be surprised when the moment comes, but we made sure to pick out the perfect names regardless of the baby’s sex.
When we do arrive at the hospital, everyone is there—Jessie, Brooke’s father, Helen Barnes, Marissa Sanders, and even Matthew Dunn, who I’ve developed a civil relationship with since moving back.
Seeing the face of so many people we call friends and family, even Matthew, only makes me more anxious and nervous.
My father stops me before I enter the delivery room and places his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes are vibrant with pride and joy as he looks at me, beaming with delight.
“I know you’re nervous, son. Just remember that you need to be calm for her and for yourself. And know that…I am so very proud of you.”
“Thanks, Pops.”
He pulls me in for a quick, firm hug, and a lot of my apprehension washes away.
