by Katy Paige
Thea inhaled a ragged breath before continuing. “I know you’ve been trying to reach out to us. I’m getting there, okay? It’s just hard.”
Zoë peeked up through watery eyes to see her sister’s face similarly wet with tears. She remembered all the nights Thea had held her in her arms after their mother died, how much she had needed her sister and how much she’d been there for Zoë. She reached out her hand, belatedly realizing Thea probably wouldn’t take it.
Thea bit her bottom lip, shaking her head back and forth as tears trailed down her face, leaving red blotches. Then, suddenly, she lurched off the stool to sit on the bed beside Zoë, carefully taking her sister’s hand.
“I’m so…I’m so sorry, Thea,” she sobbed softly.
“I know you didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“I will be sorry every day of my life.”
“He’s doing okay,” said Thea, caressing Zoë’s cheek with her free hand before leaning down to kiss her little sister’s cheek. “He’s a really amazing little kid.”
“I miss him every day. Both of you.”
Thea looked away, and Zoë knew she wanted to change the subject away from Brandon.
“I like your boyfriend,” Thea said, sniffling again. “He doesn’t look like an asshole.”
Zoë squeezed her sister’s hand, smiling through her tears. “He’s not. He’s the best.”
“You really moving to Montana?”
Zoë took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “Yep. Sandy told you?”
Thea nodded. “It’s good, Zo. Make a life for yourself. Mama would’ve been proud.”
“Will you…will you two come and see me?”
Thea swiped at her tears with the back of her hand and smiled at Zoë. “We’ll see. Okay? A day at a time.”
Zoë nodded. Seeing Thea was more than she’d hoped for. Hearing the words I love you and holding hands? Her heart was full. They would find their way now. It might take a while, but they’d figure out how to be a family again.
Thea let go of her hand and stood up.
“Good luck today, little sister,” she said. “Let’s grab a slice before you fly away, okay? Next week or something?”
Zoë swallowed, nodding at her sister. “I’d love it.”
Thea headed for the door.
“Thea!” Zoë’s voice broke. Her sister turned around. “I love you, too.”
“I know,” said her sister, offering Zoë a small smile before walking out the door.
***
“Give ‘em another minute,” said Sandy, flicking her nervous glance down the corridor. “We’ll see Thea when she comes out. I’ll walk her to the car, and you spend the last few minutes with Zoë before they take her.”
“You have more experience with this,” he sighed. “I’m worried. I—”
“Aw, don’t be,” said Sandy, giving him a warm smile. “It’s just plastic surgery. No major organs. No major arteries. Nothing to worry about. Zoë’s a champ.”
“You’re pretty amazing too,” he said. “How’d you get Thea here?”
“Told her Zoë was moving away.” Sandy shrugged. “You should’ve seen those girls when my sister died. Never saw two sisters hang onto each other so tightly—not even me and Carly. That accident with Brandon was a terrible thing, but it was even more terrible because they abandoned each other. And now Zoë’s leaving with you. Time goes too fast, you know? You can’t put off things for tomorrow if there’s time to do them today.”
“That’s good advice.” He paused. “You know, Sandy, if Zoë had a mom or dad, I’d talk to them about this, but she has you, and you’re everything to her, so I’ll talk to you instead: Is it okay with you if I ask her to marry me?”
Sandy’s mouth dropped open and she gasped before her lips turned up into the biggest smile Paul had ever seen. “I knew it!”
“What did you know, Sandy?” asked Thea, approaching them from Zoë’s room.
“I knew that Paul was good for Zoë.”
“Better be,” said Thea, looking him up and down with a hard look. “Take care of her, huh?”
“I aim to,” he said, grinning at Sandy, before standing up. “Excuse me, ladies.”
He knocked lightly on her door before entering. She raised her arms to him, and he rushed to her, sitting next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed against his shoulder.
“Sh-she said she l-loved me,” said Zoë between sobs.
“Of course she does, sweetheart. How could she not love you?”
“You th-think I’m a better person than I am.”
“Nope. You’re an amazing person who’s made mistakes. That doesn’t make you any less amazing. It makes you human.”
She took a deep, noisy breath through her nose and leaned back.
“I look awful.”
“I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than right this minute.”
She searched his eyes before taking a deep breath and giving him a blotchy smile. “What did I do before I had you in my life?”
She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, and he bent his head closer to her, his heart hammering the hell out of his chest. Now or never, Paul.
“I don’t know. But if I get my way, you’ll never know another day without me.”
He leaned his head up, meeting her blue eyes that still surprised him sometimes, as they did now.
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a tiny white velvet pouch, held together with a braided white, satin drawstring. He held it in his open palm so she could see it.
“I have something I need to ask you,” he said softly.
Her eyes widened and she gasped. For the second time in an hour, she dropped his hand and covered her mouth.
He knelt down on the floor beside her bed, pulling the hand away from her mouth and kissing the palm gently before lacing his fingers through hers.
“Holly Morgan, Princess Buttercup, Miss Temptation…Zoë Flannigan, I love all the facets of you. I love your light and your dark, your happy and your sad, your giggles and your tears. I love your eyes whether they’re brown or blue, and I love your hair whether it’s like sunshine or night. I love your heart and the way it spoke to mine. I love the way you listen and the way you tease and the way you feel in my arms. I love you whether you’re a teacher or a web developer or an artist. But what I’d really like for you to be is…my wife.”
He released her hand to loosen the draw string then shook the little velvet bag until a platinum band holding a simple, perfect diamond plopped into his hand.
He held up the ring with one hand, and took her hand with the other, smiling into her glistening eyes.
“Zoë Holly Flannigan, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed, and she started crying and laughing at the same time, nodding her head, and holding out her trembling left hand.
He’d been pretty sure she would say yes, but it was a relief to hear the words. How he managed to work the ring onto her fourth finger without dropping it, he didn’t know. But when he looked back up into her eyes, it didn’t matter. He leaned forward, kissing her tenderly, reverently, kissing his fiancée, his future wife, and if they were so blessed, the mother of his future children.
She leaned back from him and smiled, then lowered her glance to the ring, admiring it. “If I’d been really clever, I’d have answered ‘As you wish.’ like the fairy tale.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again.
“We don’t need to be like the fairy tale,” he whispered. “We are the fairy tale.”
She kissed him back, her tongue slipping between his lips and finding his, deepening the kiss. He shifted on the bed, pulling her closer to him, making him almost forget that she was about to go into surgery until they heard an awkward “Ah-hem” behind them.
“Dr. Drew!” said Zoë, resting her forehead on Paul’s before looking over his shoulder with a blinding smile. “I’m getting married!”
&
nbsp; ***
Zoë had to stay in recovery for an extra hour before going back to her room, just to make sure that she came out of the anesthesia without any issues, but she had designated Paul as the person who could keep her company there.
He braced himself when they came to get him. He was relieved that the surgery went well, but nervous to see her bandages. It would hurt him to see her hurting.
To his relief, she was lying comfortably on her back when he got there, eyes open, bandages white and fresh around her face. He sat down in the chair beside her bed, taking her hand and bringing her wrist to his lips. He held it there for a long time, her strong pulse beating against the sensitive skin of his lips. She was okay. She was going to be okay. He was so relieved, he almost felt like crying.
“I had the strangest dream while I was under,” she murmured, her other hand falling softly on his bowed head. “I dreamed you proposed to me.”
He looked up with tears in his eyes, smiling tenderly at her bandaged face. This was the face he would hold in his hands and kiss at their wedding. The face that would shudder with pleasure when they made love and smile at their children. The face he wanted to see first thing every morning and last thing every night. The face that was Zoë Holly Flannigan, the woman who belonged to him, who owned his heart, who was his home.
“You weren’t dreaming,” he said, taking her hand and gently holding it up. He pulled the surgical tape off the ring, winding it once, twice, until it was free. The overhead lights caught the diamond and cast a rainbow of sparkles around the simple white walls of her recovery room. “And I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you said yes.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, smiling at him. “When can we go home?”
“Soon, love,” he answered, smiling back at her with all the love in his heart. “Soon.”
***
Once upon a time, there was a boy named Paul Johansson.
Paul had big dreams about falling in love.
He just didn’t have the best luck.
Until he met Holl—er, um, Zoë.
And they lived
Happily
Ever
After.
THE END
(A sneak peek at Unforgettable You, The Lindstroms #6, by Katy Paige. All rights reserved.)
CHAPTER 1
May Day
Maggie Campbell was drunk.
She was good and drunk and having a damn good time, but a frustratingly difficult time keeping her balance. The revelers from the annual Gardiner May Day celebration had somehow ended up at the Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon when the rain started pelting them from every direction. Everyone who’d been listening to the band on the high school football field had run for cover and a sizable crowd had amassed at the local suds purveyor. After a few hours at the bar, Maggie and her friend Paul Johansson were definitely the worse for wear.
“Maggie, give us another toast!” demanded Maurice Evans, beer held high over his head, shaking in his unstable grip to shower him lightly with sloshes.
Likely owing to the fact that drunken Maggie had a strong, cheerful brogue and a cache of ribald toasts bestowed upon her young ears by her often-drunken Scottish father, she’d become a crowd favorite and they unplugged the jukebox every thirty minutes or so to request another celebratory cheers. Of course, this meant that twice an hour Maggie chugged a beer, the effects of which were affecting her aforementioned balance.
Maggie put her hand on her friend Paul’s shoulder, bracing on the foot rung of the bar stool, and held up her own full beer with her other hand. The crowd grew still as all eyes turned to look at the petite redhead balancing precariously on a bar stool.
“May there always be work for your hands to do.
May your purse always hold a coin or two.”
She turned toward the door and then grinned back at the crowd.
“May the sun always shine upon your window pane…”
They chuckled with approval as she added,
“May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.
May the hand of a friend always be near to you and
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.”
She beamed at the crowd, licking her lips as her beer teetered in her wobbly grasp and added with flair, “Alba gu brath!”
The crowd roared in approval, clinking their glasses together and chugging down their beers, none the wiser that they were all drinking to Scotland’s long life. The jukebox was plugged in again and the raucous fiddles of Mumford & Sons thundered over the cheering of the crowd.
That’s precisely the time the room started to spin.
Even Paul didn’t notice as Maggie started to lose her balance, swaying as she finished her beer and started to lower the hand that held the glass. Maggie closed her eyes, feeling the swirls starting, knowing she was likely going to fall and letting her muscles go to jelly to lessen the impact. She certainly didn’t have enough strength to stop herself.
She heard the screech of the stool’s wooden legs as it skittered a short way across the floor and heard the hard clunk of her empty pint glass hitting the wooden bar. She looked down, as though in slow motion, to see Paul’s horrified eyes, his arm flailing upward to grab her before she fell backward.
And then suddenly, a hard, warm wall slammed into her back and strong arms encircled her. She let her head fall back until it rested on the flannel shelf of a shoulder, and she heard his voice, soft and urgent in her ear, “I’ve got you, Maggie May.”
His breath on her skin made her eyes flutter closed and she leaned back into him. When her feet hit the floor, he released her, reaching for the bar in front of her and holding on to it, protecting her from the jostling crowd by trapping her between his chest and the bar as she caught her breath.
“You okay?”
His lips were so close to her ear she trembled lightly. Every time he took a breath his chest pushed into her back and she was having trouble concentrating on anything else.
“Mags?”
The concern in his voice deserved an answer, so she took a deep, ragged breath and turned around, looking up to find familiar light blue eyes searching hers with worry.
Nils Lindstrom.
Over six feet tall and built like a lumberjack, Nils towered over her. He wore a plaid flannel shirt over a white T-shirt, both tucked into standard Levi’s that were a touch too tight in the front, showing a bulge along the inseam of his right thigh.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and her shoulders slumped with the wave of longing that crashed over her. Nils Lindstrom was one of her circle of friends, but—unbeknownst to him—he’d also pretty much owned her heart for the past four years.
He hooked a finger under her chin and drew her eyes up. “You going to be sick?”
She stared up at him, wishing for the thousandth time that he could see her as more than a friend. Of course he would have been somewhere in the bar watching her make a fool of herself standing on bar stools and yelling toasts in Gaelic. She reached up to wipe her lips with the back of her hand, feeling her already-flaming cheeks heat up like a pagan bonfire. She was drunk, she almost face planted into the bar floor, and he was making sure she wasn’t going to vomit all over him. Oh, for the love of—Could she never, ever catch a break with this man?
“I’m fine,” she said tightly, her accent more pronounced in her ears than usual. She turned her neck to her left to detach his finger.
Her friend Paul grinned at her sheepishly over Nils’s arm. “Sorry I didn’t catch you in time, Mags.”
Maggie grinned at her drinking buddy. “No harm done.”
“Could’ve been harm done.” Nils’s voice was thick with censure. When Maggie looked up at him, he was eyeing Paul with annoyance.
Paul Johansson was the best friend of Nils’s younger brother, Lars.
“Wasn’t Paul’s fault if I chose to get up on a bar stool and act like a drunkard.” She gestured to the bartender for another beer.
�
�Another, Maggie?”
“Lots of anothers,” she answered, annoyed her words sounded so jumbled. Not that she minded, really, but she wondered how long Nils planned to keep her imprisoned between his arms. Must have been the beer that prompted her to ask him. “So, how long are ye’ trappin’ me here, Nils? Keen to babysit me t’night, are ye?”
His blue eyes captured hers, searching and intense, narrowing at her tone. “A thank-you wouldn’t be remiss, Maggie May.”
Maggie couldn’t explain why his words got her back up, but they did. She didn’t want to thank him for saving her. She wanted him to see her as a woman, as more than just a friend. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to take her back to his place or over to hers and tear her clothes off. Preferably with his teeth.
“Thaaanks,” she said slowly, licking her lips in a way she hoped was seductive, but they were so dry she re-licked them a few more times before catching herself. From the gaping look on his face, she was pretty sure she’d somehow managed to look more like a lizard than a femme fatale.
Nils stared at her lips for a moment then flicked his eyes to hers. His nostrils flared lightly and his jaw pulsed once, twice, before he dropped his arms and turned to Paul. “Do a better job looking out for her.”
Then he turned on his heel without another word, parting the crowd as he headed out of the bar.
WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING
Maggie Campbell & Nils Lindstrom’s story
Available Soon
Did you love VIRTUALLY MINE? Please consider leaving a review on Goodreads, Amazon, or wherever you purchase e-books! Thank you!
More LINDSTROM romances are coming in 2020!
ALSO AVAILABLE
from Katy Regnery
a m o d e r n f a i r y t a l e
(A collection)
The Vixen and the Vet
Never Let You Go
Ginger’s Heart
