The Shacking Up Series

by Helena Hunting

  Imogen looks agitated, and Armstrong looks nothing short of annoyed, which is the only expression he wears, apart from a leer.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Griffin, please,” Cosy begs, still trying to tug me toward the car.

  “Just a minute. That’s my cousin.” I feel suddenly numb and hot all over at the same time. I cross the parking lot, dragging Cosy along since she won’t let go of my arm.

  Imogen was beside herself after Amalie and Armstrong’s wedding fiasco, so there’s absolutely no reason I can come up with for the two of them to be together.

  They’re too busy arguing to notice my approach. Imogen grabs him by the lapels of his jacket, voice rising enough that I can hear her. “You said you would take care of us, and now you think you can buy your way out of this? This baby is as much yours as it is mine!”

  When I found out Imogen cheated on me, I had no desire to know whom she cheated with. I was already overwhelmed by the lies and the betrayal. But I don’t even know what to do with this.

  “You motherfucker.” I shake Cosy off my arm, move Imogen aside as carefully as I can, and slam my fist into Armstrong’s face. Pain radiates through my hand and up my arm, but the crunch and pop of cartilage that comes from my cousin’s nose makes it completely worth it.

  Armstrong stumbles back, landing on his ass. He covers his face with a palm as blood drips down his chin, splattering the sidewalk and his white dress shirt. “What the hell?”

  Imogen screams. “Griffin, don’t! I can explain!”

  I whirl on her, and she presses herself against the side of the car, as if she expects me to go after her next. “Explain what? That you slept with my fucking cousin, and he got you pregnant, and you still tried to play it off as mine. Was that before or after he tried to pay you off to get rid of you?”

  “It was after, since it was my suggestion,” Armstrong coughs. Despite the blood pouring from his face, he smiles. Red coats his teeth, making him look insane. Which he very well may be.

  I grab him by the front of his shirt and drag him to his feet. “You’re a sadistic sonofabitch.”

  His smile widens. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  “What’re you talking about? What the hell have I ever done to you?”

  His smile morphs into a sneer. “Your brother fucked my wife, so I fucked your fiancée. A little tit for tat, cousin.” He motions to Imogen. “It wasn’t even very hard to convince her. She was just so lonely and desperate for attention. Willing to do anything I wanted, however I wanted it from her. I would’ve kept fucking her too, except she got herself knocked up.”

  “You’re disgusting.” I punch him again, this time in the balls. He wheezes, and I release him, watching as he folds into a fetal position on the sidewalk.

  I turn to find Cosy behind me. She holds out a hand. “Come on, baby, it’s time to go.” I slip my palm into hers, aware I’ve lost it, very publicly.

  Imogen is still standing beside the passenger door, eyes wide and panicked, trying to open it.

  I pin her with a hateful glare. “I feel sorry for that baby, but you two deserve each other.”

  This time, I let Cosy lead me back to the car, and I worry that my baggage just became too heavy for her because this is next-level fucked-up drama.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Heavy Bags

  Cosy

  The truest test of a relationship is sticking by someone when they’re falling apart. And that’s exactly what happens after we run into Imogen. It’s understandable considering she slept with his cousin, and Armstrong was the one who told her to go back to Griffin, since apparently he had no desire to take care of the mess they made together.

  Griffin’s cousin is a serious asshole.

  The concierge brings up all of our purchases from this morning’s shopping trip, which seems like a million years ago. Griffin pulls out a giant bottle of bourbon and pours himself a pint glass full. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it’s a serious glass of bourbon, whole hand, not three fingers, and no ice.

  He also decides we need to start hanging art right away, which means he gets out his tool box.

  I take the glass and put it aside. “How about we talk, instead of you getting shitfaced and using power tools?”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Really? So you’re not the least bit affected by the fact that you found out your cousin, a known cheater, and from what I can tell, a complete psychopath, slept with your ex-fiancée to spite you? Then when he ended up getting her pregnant, he told her to go back to you because he wants nothing to do with her?” Saying it out loud makes it so much worse.

  Griffin bows his head and clenches his fists at his side. “You should just leave.”

  My stomach sinks. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “You will eventually when you realize I’ve got too much baggage.” His voice is low with gravel.

  I sigh and take his hands in mine. “Everyone has baggage, Griffin. You’ve just been given an overfull suitcase to carry around with you, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll carry it with you.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “Okay, first of all, don’t start telling me what I should or shouldn’t do, it’s patronizing and annoying. You know why relationships don’t work?”

  “Because people realize they don’t want to deal with someone else’s shit anymore?”

  “I guess that’s a possibility, but from what I’ve seen, relationships end when people stop communicating. You’re not saving either of us any pain by pretending you’re fine. Talk to me. Fall apart on me. Show me your weakness, so I can give you my strength.”

  He’s slow to lift his gaze, anguish and fear holding him prisoner in his own head. “I don’t want to be too much for you.”

  I settle my palm against his cheek. “Well, I want to be just enough for you, so let me give it a shot.”

  “Everything was so good. We were good this morning.” His voice is barely a whisper.

  “And we’ll be good again, but right now you’re not okay, Griffin, so be not okay with me.” I take his hand in mine and settle it on my hip, then step into him. I wrap my arms around his waist, praying that my love is bigger than the hurt he’s been caused.

  His body remains rigid for long seconds before he finally latches onto me, squeezing tightly.

  And then he falls apart as anyone would if they were betrayed so viciously by someone they once loved.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my hair.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m right here, going nowhere.” Imogen might have broken him, but I’ll be here to pick up all the pieces, and it’ll be my love that glues him back together.

  Which is exactly what I do.

  We spend the rest of the weekend holed up in Griffin’s penthouse, and I see him at his most vulnerable. I learn his soft side, his insecurities, and I fall even harder for this man who wants nothing more than to love and be loved unconditionally.

  And I reassure him with words and actions that I’m his person, and he’s mine, for as long this love binds us together, which I believe is forever.

  Epilogue: Get Cozy

  Cosy

  Two and a half years later

  I roll away from the edge of the bed in search of Griffin’s warm body. Not that I need his heat. It’s hotter than bacon sizzling on a frying pan in hell in Bora Bora, but the breeze off the water is nice, and the place is gorgeous, so I think I’ll survive the heat. We’re here for a multitude of reasons, one of them being business, since Mills Hotels has four luxury resorts on the island, the other being Lex and Amie’s wedding, which was two days ago.

  Talk about the longest engagement in the history of the universe. Then again, Amie has a little wedding PTSD thanks to Armstrong the Asshole. Bora Bora is where Amie and Lex fell in love, so they decided it was going to be the place where they tied the knot as well. It was an intimate wedding on the beach, their very closest friends and f
amily. Unsurprisingly, Armstong didn’t get an invitation to the nuptials. I’d like to say fatherhood has changed him, but based on Lincoln’s reports, Imogen has full custody of their son, whom she named Mills, possibly to spite him.

  Even Nev came along on the trip. Last year she moved to New York after she finally received a college degree in communications. She fits in well with this amazing group of women, and I missed her, so it’s nice to have her close to me. Her boyfriend choices are still questionable, but at least I can keep an eye on her again.

  Lex and Amie’s wedding ceremony was beautiful and touching. Those two look like Ken and Barbie’s more attractive siblings. And their chemistry is insane. Every time they look at each other, I worry their clothes are going to spontaneously incinerate. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started popping out babies like Pez dispensers soon.

  I still have my eyes closed as I slide my hand across the ridiculously soft sheets, but I don’t bump into an arm so I do one more closed-eye roll. Still, I don’t come up against a body barricade, so I crack a lid and discover I’m very much alone.

  Maybe Griffin’s in the bathroom. I snuggle into his pillow, breathing in the scent of his shampoo and his aftershave. I must fall back asleep because the next thing I know, I’m being woken up with kisses—between my thighs.

  Two orgasms later, Griffin prowls up my body, fits himself between my legs, and enters me on a slow stroke. We both groan—quietly since the windows are open. When his hips meet mine, he props himself up on his forearms so he’s basically sex-planking. My boyfriend is in excellent shape. “Happy birthday, baby.”

  “Birthday orgasms are the best,” I mumble, still riding the high of the last one as he starts to move over me.

  He nuzzles my neck. “Maybe I should give you one for every year you’ve been alive.”

  “That’s a lofty goal, Mr. Mills, and as fun as it sounds, I’m not sure blowing off your entire family all day for twenty-five orgasms is going to fly.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

  Twenty-five minutes later he’s achieved twenty percent of his goal, and I’m a limp noodle. We follow it up with breakfast in bed.

  “I have big plans for you today.” Griffin moves the breakfast tray aside and straddles my lap.

  “What kind of plans?” He’s holding something behind his back.

  “The secret fun kind.” He produces a silk scarf

  “What’re you planning to do with that?”

  “Blindfold you.” He grips it between his hands and lifts it toward my face.

  I put a palm on his chest. “Hold on a second, are you planning some kinky sex game?”

  Griffin’s smile widens. “And if I were?”

  I consider that for a moment. Griffin’s a fun bed partner. He loves foreplay and apparently getting frisky in supply closets is a thing for him since it’s happened a bunch of times in a variety of different hotels. And at the office. He also gets a kick out of giving me orgasms in oddly public places—never at the risk of getting caught, but public enough that I have to remember to keep quiet.

  Blindfolds are outside of the ordinary, though. “Uhhh . . .”

  He dips down to kiss the end of my nose. “Don’t worry, Cosy. I won’t do anything you won’t love.”

  I shrug. “Blindfold away, then.”

  Griffin covers my eyes and makes sure the blindfold is secure and I can’t see anything. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait. What? Where are you going?”

  He’s already off the bed. “Give me a minute, and no peeking.”

  After what seems like a long time and a lot of rustling in the other room, I yell out, “If you keep me waiting much longer, I’m peeking!”

  He doesn’t respond this time, but a few seconds later his fingers graze the back of my hand. “Come on. I have something for you.”

  I let him help me off the bed, and he covers me in a bathrobe. It’s one of my short, silk ones. His fingers brush along my collarbone and trail up the side of my neck as he sweeps my hair over my shoulders. Then they tickle my stomach as he pulls the two sides together and ties it at my waist. Every touch is magnified, and my nipples peak with the heightened sensation. Maybe this blindfold thing isn’t so bad.

  Griffin leads me down the hall, the floor cool under my feet, his thumb sweeping along my knuckles. “Where are we going?”

  It can’t be far since I’m in a robe and last I checked, he was wearing boxers.

  “You’ll see.” I try to envision the space as we move through it. “Have a seat.” He helps me navigate my butt into a chair. Based on the fabric under my legs, I’m seated at the dining table. Anticipation makes my heart beat faster. He pushes the chair forward, and his lips skim the shell of my ear. “Give me your hands.”

  I raise them, and he kisses my knuckles before guiding them in front of me and running them over the surface of the table. “Is this paper?”

  “It’s a map.”

  I grin. “Are we taking a road trip?”

  He smoothes his palms down the side of my neck, fingertips skimming my collarbones. “Mmm. I thought it might be fun for you to pick a spot so we can see where the road is going to take us.”

  “I thought we had to be back in the US in two weeks.”

  “I might be able to extend our vacation by a couple of weeks since I have an in with my boss.”

  “That’s lucky, isn’t it?”

  “Mmm.” His lips brush along the column of my neck until they reach my ear. “Very lucky. Now let’s see where our next adventure takes us.”

  I drag my fingertips along the surface, feeling the folds in the paper.

  Over the past two and a half years, Griffin and I have traveled all over the world. Sometimes we’re in one place for months at a time, others are brief stops. Griffin works on property investing, and I review the entertainment structure for each hotel as the Director of Entertainment Affairs. I get to be with my favorite person and do something I love while seeing the world.

  When we have the time and it’s safe enough, we take road trips. As promised, Griffin takes a million terrible selfies and posts them on social media, chronicling our adventures across the world. Last year for my twenty-fourth birthday, we spent a month in Greece and visited the mountaintop monasteries in Meteora.

  I tap a spot on the map. “How about here?”

  Griffin slips the blindfold off, and I blink against the sudden brightness, working to focus on the map spread out in front of me. Of course, my finger is planted in the middle of the ocean.

  But our middle of the ocean destination becomes irrelevant when I spot the tiny velvet box placed right beside my finger. My stomach flips. “What’s this?”

  He bends to kiss me, lips moving over mine when he says, “A birthday present. Go ahead and open it.”

  My hands are shaky as I pick up the box and carefully flip it open. I’m oddly disappointed when I find a pair of diamond earrings inside. “These are beautiful.”

  “Not what you expected?” Griffin’s still standing behind me, hands on my shoulders.

  I tip my head back and find him smiling down at me. Somewhere between blindfolding me and getting the map out he put on a shirt and shorts. I’ve made it very clear over the past two and a half years that I’m not in a rush for him to put a ring on my finger. If it were up to Griffin, we’d already be married, but I’m young and he can be impulsive when it comes to things like staking his claim on me. So I told him no ring before I turned twenty-five. And now I’m twenty-five.

  He spins the chair so I’m facing him instead of the table. It’s a little disorienting. He cups my face in between his palms and bends to kiss me. I expect some tongue to go with the pretty diamonds he gave me, so when he tries to pull away, I fist his shirt to keep him close. I upset his balance, and he has to brace himself on the table behind me to keep from tipping the chair over.

  He smiles against my mouth. “So you like them, then?”

  “They’re spa
rkly and pretty, so thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He half smirks as he pulls back. “I have something else for you.”

  “What kind of something else?”

  “You’ll have to let me go if you want to find out.”

  I release his shirt, and he drops down in front of me. At first I think he’s going to go for orgasm number six of the morning, until he slips his hand in his shorts pocket and produces another velvet box, this one bigger than the last.

  My mouth goes dry, and my whole body breaks out in a wave of goose bumps. “Is it a matching necklace?” I go for sassy, but it comes out with a waver.

  “Would you like it to be a matching necklace?” Griffin shifts so he’s on one knee in front of me.

  “Necklaces are nice.” I curve my fingers over my knees, pressing them together so I don’t ruin what I think very well might be one of the most memorable moments of my life by flashing him.

  “I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

  “You bought me a diamond necklace last Christmas.”

  “Maybe I bought you another one.” He’s playing with me.

  “Griffin.” I can’t stop my knees from bouncing.

  “Cosy.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “I’m drawing out the anticipation.”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not nice to keep the birthday girl waiting?”

  “Well, in all fairness, you made me wait a good two years for this.” Despite the joking, he swallows audibly and exhales a long slow breath. He reaches up to skim my cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Now, can I have my present, please?”

  He laughs and picks up one of my slightly clammy hands with his, bowing so he can kiss my knuckle. He meets my gaze with a resolved one of his own. “You’re an amazing woman, Cosy, and I’m lucky to have found you. I love you more every day, and now that I have you, I don’t ever want to let you go. I want to walk through this life with you by my side, as my wife.” He flips the tiny box open and the single diamond glints in the morning light. It’s beautiful and delicate and stunning, and exactly what I hoped would be in that tiny velvet box. “Marry me, Cosy Felton. Let’s make a million amazing memories together.”