by Lauren Layne
A concise message that had informed her that his symptoms had been the result of mono rather than a cancer recurrence.
Her heart had soared. Really, it had. Josh wasn’t dying. He was okay. He was alive.
But the text had hardly contained a mea culpa.
In fact, she was pretty damn sure that if mono (really?) hadn’t been a contagious virus, he wouldn’t have contacted her at all.
Lucky for both of them, Heather had already had mono her sophomore year of high school, courtesy of a badly made decision involving several wine coolers she’d bummed off her unsuspecting mother and a willing accomplice by the name of Dylan Haven.
She texted him back that she was fine, and he hadn’t written back.
Heart. Meet Break.
The airport intercom rambled something, and Heather leaned back slightly on her barstool to peek at her gate across the way. Her flight was starting to board.
Since Heather was reasonably sure that she could maneuver the shattered pieces of her heart into her seat at 24E without assistance, she was in no rush. But just to be safe, she signaled for her check as she drained the last sip of her rather delicious pear martini.
Heather paid her bill and gathered her bags as she made her way to the gate to wait for her section to be called. Normally going back to Michigan came with a little surge of bittersweet reluctance to leave New York, which she loved so dearly, combined with excitement to see her mother. Tonight though, she could have been flying anywhere. She just needed to get away. Needed a break from the hurt of the past week.
She’d told him she loved him.
So, that was big. And a surprise. She hadn’t even realized it until the words were out there, but the second they’d left her lips, she’d known the truth in them.
It was the first time she’d said the words to anyone aside from her mother, and he’d all but shooed her away, out of his hospital room, when she’d thought he’d had cancer.
No wonder people were hesitant about falling in love. Here she’d been all whiny about never experiencing it, when really, she should have been grateful.
It sucked. Big-time.
Heather opted to hover around the outskirts of the loading area rather than rush to get in line. She was in a middle seat, so there was exactly zero point of getting on the plane earlier than she had to.
Eventually, however, the line whittled down, the crowd shrunk, and it was last call.
Heather reached for the handle of her carry-on, preparing to wheel it forward, when a large male figure stepped in front of her.
“Excuse me,” Heather murmured by default even as the New Yorker in her bristled at the disturbance. Still, airports were crowded, people got oblivious.
She stepped to the side, and the man stepped with her.
Okay. Now she was annoyed.
She lifted her eyes, prepared to communicate her irritation with a proper glare.
Instead she froze.
“Josh?” Her voice wobbled. The man she loved—the man who’d rejected her—was standing in front of her in a New York City airport, wearing a tux of all things.
“Hey, 4C.” His voice was low, easy and casual, as though this wasn’t the most absurd thing to ever happen to either of them.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“Wanted to know if you were okay.”
“You mean did I catch your mono? No, I told you I’m fine,” she said, more than a little confused and pissed off at his sudden appearance.
“But how are you fine? Did you catch the kissing disease from someone else?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “A JV basketball center with braces who played the clarinet in our high school band during the off season.” She tried to push past him. “Now that we’ve got that all cleared up, if you’ll excuse me, I have a flight to catch.”
But Josh blocked her path with one strong, muscled arm. “Names, 4C. I’m going to need a name, and address if you have it, so I can beat this motherfucker down.”
Heather gave him a quick once-over, wanting—needing—to make sure that he was okay.
He looked . . . great. A little tired, maybe, but mostly he was the pinnacle of health.
“I still have to take an afternoon nap,” he said, reading her thoughts. “And I wouldn’t say no to a sponge bath. But I’m fine. Fever gone, yada yada.”
“I’m glad.”
She meant the statement to come out snippy and sharp, but instead it was softly uttered, like a wish.
Because she did mean it. This man had hurt her badly, but she still loved him. She was relieved that the only thing currently ailing him was a brush with an adolescent virus.
She glanced back up at him, noticing for the first time the bouquet he held in his hands. “What’s with the peonies?”
He glanced down, seeming to realize for the first time that he was carrying pink flowers, and shoving them against her chest. “For you.”
She barely caught them with one arm, since her other was still on her luggage. “Um, thank you?”
Wary as she was, she couldn’t resist admiring them. She did love her some pink peonies.
“4C, there’s something I need to say to you.”
Heather’s gaze snapped back from the flowers to Josh’s face, but all she saw in front of her was empty space.
Because Josh Tanner was on one knee.
In front of her. In an airport. In a tux.
And there was a ring.
Oh, the ring.
She stared down at him, and he smiled half-nervously, half-cockily.
“I love you,” he said. “I had this whole speech planned out, and Alexis and Brooke and my sister proofread it with a red pen and everything, but as I’m kneeling here awkwardly, I realize it’s all unnecessary. I love you. I love you more than is sane for any man to love any woman. All the way, to the ends of the earth. Damn, is that cheesy?” He shook his head slightly. “Maybe I should have brought the speech after all.”
“Josh.” She knelt down slightly, trying to tug him upward. “What are you doing? Get up.”
“Not until I get an answer.”
“I don’t even know what you’re asking!” But of course, she did. It was written all over his posture.
And his face.
Oh, and the ring.
“Marry me,” he commanded.
Heather’s heart lifted and then fell and then did some sort of somersault.
“Josh—”
“I know it’s soon. I’m probably rushing it. But if battling that damn leukemia taught me anything, it’s that life is fucking short. And if recovering from cancer taught me anything, it’s that a life spent thinking just about tomorrow, even if tomorrow’s all there is, is a half life. I need you, Heather. I need you, I want you, I love you for always. For all the todays and all the tomorrows.”
She blinked. “You didn’t really forget that speech your sister wrote for you, did you? There was a little bit of it in there just then.”
He grinned. “I have an excellent memory. And a pretty decent-sized package. Honestly, woman, you have to marry me.”
The moment was insanity. He was insanity. Proposing in an airport, dressed in a—
“Wait, why are you wearing that?” she asked.
“Oh my God, she still hasn’t said yes,” someone whispered. Heather glanced up from Josh’s gaze to see a rapt semicircle of airport dwellers gathered nearby, gaping. A few women were looking at her accusingly, and Heather had to stifle a laugh. If they’d had to put up with Josh’s shtick like she had, they, too, might be given some pause.
Josh, however, seemed unfazed as the pull of his hand tugged her attention back down. Minus the increasingly panicked look in his eye, and the way his fingers were slick with sweat beneath hers.
“Let’s just say I meant that whole bi
t about life being short,” he said earnestly. “If you say yes—and by God, woman, you’d better—we’re getting married immediately. Today.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I am not getting married today. You’re proposing to a wedding planner. Have you forgotten that I live to build the perfect wedding?”
“And you have, haven’t you?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“What are you—”
Everything clicked into place.
Heather breathed outward. “Oh, my God. The Robinson wedding.”
Her wedding. The wedding she’d planned. It was supposed to have been today.
“I talked to Alexis. Not a single thing has changed except for, like, four details. Maybe six, if you count the bride and groom.”
Heather’s breath was shallow. Her wedding. Her dream wedding was a forty-minute drive away.
But that wasn’t what was important.
The man in front of her was important.
And the man was here. And she loved him. Always.
For better or worse.
Very slowly, Heather lowered to her knees in front of him, ignoring someone’s reference to Chandler and Monica from behind her.
“Yes,” she said softly, lifting her free hand to touch his face. “I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you yesterday, I’ll marry you tomorrow, or five years from now, or in a barn or in this airport.”
Josh’s mouth closed on hers, and the people who’d crowded around them finally got what they wanted. A chorus of clapping sounded as he slid the ring onto her finger without ever breaking contact with her mouth.
When they pulled apart, the crowd was still cheering, and the airline employee looked torn between being charmed and being frustrated that they were holding up her boarding process.
“Ma’am, are you Fowler, Heather? Are you boarding or not?”
“Oh gosh,” Heather said, the attendant’s question jarring her back to reality. “I can’t get married today. I’m all for a small wedding, but my mom—”
“Is already in New York,” he said, kissing her softly as he helped her to her feet. “Brooke and Jessie have her at the salon right now while Alexis gets everything else get coordinated.”
Her heart melted. She was marrying a man who’d proposed in an airport and had flown her mom into town.
And that meant her mom was in New York. Finally. All of her dreams were coming true, except . . .
Heather frowned. “You can’t get through security without a ticket, which means you had to buy one. And you bought my mom a ticket. And Danica’s wedding—”
“Our wedding,” he corrected.
“—was crazy expensive.”
“Well then, good thing I’m loaded.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Seriously, 4C, don’t be weird. Don’t overthink this.” He picked up her left hand. “Look, big diamond. Swoon.”
She laughed. “Trust me, I will, and I am, I just—”
“I’m about to be more loaded,” he interrupted. “I signed on with Logan. I called him from the hospital and let him know I’d like to join him. We’re probably going to take over the world, no big deal. But I’ll tell you about it later.”
He offered her arm. “How about it, 4C. Marry me?”
“Absolutely, 4A.” She grinned, taking his arm.
“Oh, that reminds me.” He began leading her through the airport as the crowd parted for them, fairy-tale style. “We’ll need to pick one or the other.”
“Pick one or the other what?”
“4A or 4C.”
“Why’s that?”
“Contractors are at our place now, figuring out which wall to tear down to join our two units.”
“Wait, what?” She held up a hand. “Can you do that? The landlord’s going to be pissed.”
“The landlord just manages the place. It’s the owner who will care.”
“Well, whatever. Point is, we’re going to get in trouble.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Heather’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling I’m missing something?”
He reached for her left hand, lifted it to his lips as his thumb played with the ring on her finger. “One thing I may have forgotten to mention. I sort of own the building.”
She stared at him. “What?”
Josh shrugged. “Why do you think I had no qualms about playing my music so loud?”
“Because you’re an ass?”
“At first, maybe,” he said, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close. “After that, it was all about getting the girl in 4C to notice me.”
“Did she?” Heather asked innocently.
His mouth lowered to hers. “Oh yeah.”
Epilogue
THE WEDDING WAS PERFECT.
But then again, Heather knew it would be—after all, she’d planned it.
From the flowers to the music, all the way down to her mother’s pale pink maid of honor dress that Alexis had somehow managed to secure same day, the wedding was everything she’d dreamed of. Everything she’d wanted.
Good old Alexis had surprised exactly nobody by making a couple of crucial modifications. For one, there was no sign of Danica Robinson’s gaudy, overpriced dress. Instead Heather walked down the aisle to the man of her dreams wearing her perfect satin white sheath, her butt looking every bit as amazing as she’d envisioned.
Or so Josh told her.
And the wedding was small. Tiny, even: just a handful of close friends, the Belles, Heather’s mom, and of course Josh’s family.
His band was there too. Ex-band.
Trevor had winked at her as her mom had walked her down the aisle, and she’d winked back. Which had made Josh’s eyes narrow, and that was just downright sexy.
But as Heather stood at the altar, listening to the pastor talk about love and forever, she realized that none of this mattered. Not really. Not the dress or the flowers, or even the color of her mom’s gorgeous dress.
What mattered was Josh. And her.
And the fact that her heart had never felt so full, and the moment had never felt so right. He was hers, and she was his, and they had the rest of their lives to make each other laugh, and she had no doubt they’d rise to the occasion, no matter what fate threw at them.
But it wasn’t until the end of the evening when they were cutting the cake that Heather realized that Alexis wasn’t the only one who’d made some tweaks to Heather’s dream wedding.
Josh had made some changes of his own. Most of them for her sake, but as she opened her mouth to receive the proverbial first bite of cake that he shoved in her mouth, she realized that one of the changes had been just for him.
“Josh! What is that?” she said, barely managing to choke it down.
Her husband—husband!—merely grinned as she forced herself to swallow the god-awful piece of wedding cake.
Josh Tanner had finally gotten his banana bread.
Acknowledgments
THANK YOU TO THE amazing team at Pocket Books who helped turn my scrappy story idea into the gorgeous book you’re holding:
Especially Elana Cohen, for always knowing exactly what the story and characters need.
For the production team, who never judge me for an overreliance on elipses.
The cover designer, for creating one of the most gorgeous covers I’ve ever seen.
The sales and marketing gurus who work endless magic to make sure you know about this book.
And all the other behind-the-scenes folks whose names I might never know, but whose commitment to quality gives us book addicts the best of the best.
Next up, a shout-out to my friends and family, especially my husband, who not only tolerates me wallowing for hours in the writing cave, but actually moves mountains so that I can do so.
&
nbsp; For my agent, Nicole Resciniti, who said, “Let’s do it,” when I told her I had to write a series about wedding planners.
And lastly, for Kristi Yanta, for believing in my writing since the very beginning and helping it be the best that it can be.
Get lost in the fast-paced, sultry world of The Wedding Belles, three women who can plan any wedding to a 'T' . . . except their own.
Up-and-coming wedding photographer Leah McHale’s career is on the rise . . . but one loud-mouthed sexy ex-flame could bring it all crashing down.
From This Day Forward
* * *
All Brooke Baldwin wants is a chance to start over—but will she make room in her heart for a love she never saw coming?
To Have and to Hold
* * *
ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY!
Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek of Book Three in the Wedding Belles series,
TO LOVE AND
TO CHERISH
Available Fall 2016 from Pocket Books!
Eight Years Earlier
WHAT CAN I GET you, miss?”
Alexis settled at the barstool, unwinding the scarf from around her neck and placing it on top of her warm puffy coat before smiling at the bartender. “Pinot grigio?”
“You got it. Which one? We’ve got two by the glass.”
“Um . . .” She glanced down at the menu, scanning for the wine list. “I had one the other day . . . I think it was four dollars?”
“Ah, yup. That’s our happy-hour white. I can still give it to you, but it’ll be eight fifty now as it’s past seven.”
“Oh,” Alexis said, trying to hide the stab of dismay. “That’s fine.”
She’d just have to drink it slow, make it last.
“Food menu?”
“Yes, please,” she said. “You mind if I work on my laptop here at the bar?”
The bartender shrugged, her blue eyes completely disinterested. “Fine by me. Tuesdays in January are slow. You could pretty much sleep here, and nobody would notice or care.”
