All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(64)

In theory, she could ask Sionna to reschedule, but she wouldn’t.

Two weeks of him paying for everything? Nope. Not acceptable.

Then he was letting go of her hand, and she wanted to wail at the loss of contact, only—

Only he was cupping her face again, his thumbs sweeping over her cheeks, and her breath stuttered to a halt. He stared down at her for a minute, unaccountably solemn once more.

His hands slid lower, until he was cradling the nape of her neck with one palm and stroking her back with the other, and—and her face was suddenly nestled against his chest.

“You drive a hard bargain, you intransigent shrew.” He spoke against the crown of her head, his lips brushing her hair with every word, even his ostensible insult a caress. “We’ll leave first thing Wednesday morning, so be ready. Pack your pretty lace dress and sensible wedges. We’re dancing at the wedding.”

He smelled like sunlit cotton and starlit nights on a mountainside. Fresh air and warmth. Somehow, her arms found their way around his waist, and she was clutching him too.

Her eyes closed, and her throat was dry as Death Valley. “We are?”

It was a rasp. A trace of sound, and she let her mouth shape the words against the soft fabric over his heart.

He shuddered against her, his hands tightening possessively.

When he spoke, his tone brooked no dissent, and she didn’t offer any. Couldn’t.

“We are,” he said.

ALEX LEFT WITHOUT kissing her on the mouth. Barely.

He’d wanted to. He’d been about to. And then he’d looked down at her and finally acknowledged just how tired she was. Red-eyed, the thin, soft skin underneath those eyes bruised with fatigue. Uncharacteristically emotional and weepy, her body pliant and trembling with exhaustion against his. Ginger in her movements, as if still stiff and sore from her plane ride.

Their first kiss deserved better, and he refused to take advantage of her lowered defenses. If she chose to kiss him, he wanted her to do so with all her strength and alert intelligence intact.

Still, he’d taken his time before letting her go, and she had to realize how he felt. What he wanted. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about it.

He wouldn’t push her, but he wouldn’t disguise his feelings either. Not anymore. And after the way she’d clung to him, he hoped—

His phone buzzed from the other side of his desk, and he eagerly snatched it up.

Sadly, the message wasn’t from Lauren.

Instead, his agent had sent a peremptory text. Block out time to talk Thursday afternoon. We need to be on the same page before Saturday.

Alex’s ex, Stacia, was one of Zach’s clients too, and the wedding would likely include other Hollywood power brokers as guests. The desire to talk beforehand was reasonable.

The tone wasn’t.

Now that Alex was in disgrace, Zach apparently believed his client didn’t get a say in when they’d meet. But Zach, sadly for him, was incorrect.

Going on a road trip, Alex wrote back. See you Saturday at the wedding. We’ll talk that morning.

Then he temporarily blocked Zach’s number, because fuck that dude. Alex had better things to think about right now. Much, much better things.

Namely, his plans for Lauren. His sweet, recalcitrant Wren.

The woman he wanted to make his, somewhere along the coast of California.

As a kid, he’d considered July the best month of the year, because that was the month his mom usually tried to take off for a week. Or better yet, two weeks. Once she got approval, they’d count their available money, determine their loose itinerary and strict budget, and set off in her tiny Chevette hatchback, venturing up and down the Florida coast.

Those days on the road had seemed endless. Sun-drenched and sticky. Literally sticky, since her car’s AC didn’t work. Even the wind whipping through the windows couldn’t cut the humidity, and his lower legs stuck to the textured vinyl seats, leaving a perfect, pebbled pattern on his skin each time they stopped for gas or a fast-food meal.

Every afternoon, they’d watch the thunderheads roll in and either find a motel for the night or veer onto the shoulder for a few minutes. With the windows up, the glass would turn steamy, and he’d draw pictures in the condensation. A dog. A knight. Stars. Together, they’d wait and talk and pass each other Twizzlers or the Pringles can until the torrential downpours ended and she could continue driving once more.

Those weeks were the best of his childhood, bar none, and his mother had worked herself to the bone to give them to him. He wanted to give Lauren something similar, if he could.

There was no way she’d accompany him to Florida anytime soon. But on a road trip up the California coast instead, he could help her relax. Really relax.

No work, no responsibilities. Just exploration and rest and companionship. Constant proximity and privacy and huge beds in cool, dim hotel rooms.

He wasn’t a kid anymore. His mother—much as he adored her—was nowhere nearby.

This was going to be the greatest fucking July ever.

Texts with Marcus: Saturday Night

Marcus: Sorry, I meant to check in earlier



Marcus: I was busy with normal convention stuff, but also April and I worked things out



Alex: Congrats, dude, I’m happy for you both



Alex: Please give her a hug from me



Alex: Which shouldn’t be difficult, since you’re no doubt clinging to her like plastic wrap