How to Get Lucky
Page 20
I look good.
Suit, tie, button-down.
Ready to rock it at Temple Israel later today.
After one last glance in the bedroom mirror, I head into the living room dressed for a Saturday afternoon gig. London is curled up with a magazine on the couch, bookended by two fur babies nestled against her thighs.
Those lucky dogs.
I’d be jealous if I didn’t have the same access to her.
But I do, so I don’t mind sharing with the two pooches I love.
Her eyes sparkle as I enter the room. “Ooh, look at you and your sexy tie.”
“Thank you,” I say, showing off my look with a spin. “B’nai mitzvah today. Figure two twin boys becoming men is a tie-worthy celebration.”
“Well, you look scrumptious.”
“Thanks, Lucky. What do you have on tap today?”
“I’m taking these two over to the dog run in a bit. Then, the Burlesque Brunch show I choreographed has two sold-out seatings, so I’m going to run downtown and check them out. Make sure everything looks good.”
I grab my phone and keys then head to the couch to give Bowie a high five and Mr. Darcy some scratches.
“Do you need a ride downtown?” I ask. “After I set up, I can come home and give you a lift if you’d like.”
“Nope. I’m good,” London says with a smile. “I’ll take the train. My boyfriend introduced me to the joys of public transit.”
“He sounds like a cool guy.”
“He’s all right,” she says, smiling. “Besides, this will give me a chance to look over my notes for André Davies’s music video shoot.”
“From the little I’ve seen, you’re going to blow them away. Like you always do. Like you did with the show at Edge,” I say, since her choreography has turned out to be a huge boon to business. Archer and the partners have been thrilled. I bend down to give her a kiss. “See you tonight, then.”
“Mmm,” she moans lightly, sending sparks all over my skin. “Indian food and MythBusters?” she asks as I head to the door.
That sounds like a perfect evening. “Sexiest Saturday ever.”
“It will be if you don’t lose that tie. I have plans for that tie. The tie-me-up kind of plans.”
Yup, great sex—I’m having it.
Leave it to London to make perfect even better.
Another Epilogue
One year later
* * *
It’s a picture-perfect Saturday with my woman and our pooches at the dog park. The park is full of the usual weekend crowd, four-legged friends playing in packs while their owners sip coffee or toss tennis balls. This has become a regular highlight of our week.
Only, this morning should be a little out of the ordinary. In a good way, I hope.
In the corner of the park, London gives Mr. Darcy some well-deserved belly rubs, and I scratch Bowie behind the ear to divert his attention from a squirrel in a nearby tree. Petting him has always settled my nerves, and I could use that calm right now.
I steal a glance at London, who’s cooing at her favorite little guy. Her love of dogs is yet another thing I adore about the woman of my dreams.
There are so many reasons I love her, and that’s why it’s time.
Today.
Now.
One more calming breath and I pull the custom-made hedgehog from my hoodie pocket and place it in my pup’s mouth.
He truly is man’s best friend. “David Bowie, go show London the hedgie,” I tell my boy.
Like a dog who’s rehearsed this dozens of times, he takes off across the park, rapidly closing the distance to London.
No going back now. But I don’t want to go back. With London, the only direction is forward.
I follow the dog, my eyes fixed on my favorite person, the woman who’s had my heart for more than a year now.
Bowie reaches London where she’s crouched down next to Mr. Darcy, and nudges her elbow with his nose. I take my time making my way over as my pittie sets the hedgie at her feet.
Good boy.
“Aww, Bowie. You brought hedgie to the run today,” London says as she picks up the toy. She turns it over, and her eyes land on the large words embroidered on the stuffed animal’s chest.
Her lips part.
Even from a few feet away, I hear her breath catch.
She mouths the simple two-word question that could change both of our lives. Marry me?
She stands and meets my gaze. My heart pounding wildly, my fingers tingling, I take one more step then drop to a knee. I don’t care if anyone else at the dog park is watching us. At this moment—hell, in every moment since I’ve met her—the only thing I care about is London.
I speak from the heart—words I haven’t written down, born of the feelings that have been running through my mind and soul for months now.
“London Hollis, before I met you, I was focused on my career and assumed that relationships would need to take a back seat for a while. Then I saw you air-guitaring by the bar at the club, and I swear, it was like my focus narrowed to only you, and everything else vanished.”
She smiles, and her grin has a life of its own, bursting with emotion. “I remember that night perfectly.”
“When I went home, I thought about you all night long. Everything we said to each other. Everything I wished I’d said. Then I saw you at the dog park the next day, and I stopped thinking about how to get lucky and started to feel like maybe I just was lucky. Seeing you again. Talking to you. Nerding out over Jane Austen and 90210, rocking from the 1790s to the 1990s.”
“Best dog-park visit ever,” she says, her eyes shining with tears.
“It was. Even our dogs liked each other. I love all the things we have in common, but this connection is more than that. You’re the most genuine person I’ve ever met. I admire your passion and dedication to your work. I appreciate the way you listen to me, and I adore the way you care for those dearest to you, humans and animals alike. And every day I’ve spent with you since the first time we talked, right on this spot, has been the best day of my life.”
Her bottom lip quivers, and her hand flies to her mouth. Her reaction spurs me on.
“So now, here I am, at the scene of the Best Dog Park Visit Ever, asking if you’ll give me a lifetime to continue getting to know you. What do you say? I don’t want to get lucky. I want to have Lucky. Forever. Will you marry me?”
Tears slip down her cheeks as her grin spreads even farther. “Yes, Teddy Lockhart. I would love to marry you.”
She drops to her knees, throws her arms around my neck, and plants a fantastic kiss on my lips.
One I will remember for the rest of my life.
But I don’t linger, because I have a ring to put on her finger. I dig into my pocket and pull out a small velvet box. We stand as I lift the lid of the ring box. London takes one look at the diamond, then locks eyes with me. “It’s so gorgeous.”
“So are you.” I slide the solitaire on her finger then give her a second or two to stare at it.
Or maybe gawk is a better term, and her reaction makes me so damn happy.
“I love this ring, but I love you more, and I love what this means. I can’t wait to be married.”
“I can’t either.”
I cup her cheek and kiss my fiancée—a kiss that lingers until finally we’re interrupted by other tongues. Dog tongues, licking our legs.
We laugh, then I look once more at the woman who’s going to be my wife, and I grin like the happiest guy ever.
Since I am.
Standing here now, with London in my arms and our dogs by our side, I have one final theory.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
* * *
THE END
* * *
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Contact
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You can find Joe on Twitter at TheRealJoeArden, Facebook at TheRealJoeArden, and Instagram at TheRealJoeArden or online at TheRealJoeArden.com. You can also email at narratorjoearden@gmail.com