The Fall Up (The Fall Up, #1)(67)

“What the f*ck?” I yelled as the door slammed behind Ryan.

He propped himself against it as if a pack of zombies were hot on his heels. “Say yes,” he panted.

“What?” I asked, closing my laptop and setting it beside me.

“You’re my best friend. I’d do anything in the entire world for you. I love you like a brother. Just say f*cking yes!”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, pushing to my feet.

“Okay, I didn’t want to have to do this, but do you remember that time in high school when I did your Great Gatsby book report for you?”

“Uhhhh, you only did my report because you broke the dishwasher by filling it with laundry detergent and you needed me to fix it before your mom found out,” I quickly corrected.

He huffed. “That is not the point. You had a need and I took care of it.”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you need?”

He drew in a deep breath and straightened the collar on his button-down. “I need to get in Jen Jensen’s pants, and the way you can take care of this is by allowing me to bring her to meet your famous girlfriend.”

“No f*cking way! Family only!”

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door.

Ryan smiled sheepishly. “Oh, and by the way, I already invited her. We just had a fantastic lunch and a very romantic stroll around the park.”

My mouth gaped as I blinked in utter shock. “I made out with Jen. And you want me to take her to my girlfriend’s house for a barbeque?”

“Why must you always remind me that you made out with my future wife? It was one kiss over a year ago.”

I stepped into his face. “She grabbed my junk, dude.”

He stepped right back into mine and snarled, “Awesome. Now, say yes so she’ll be grabbing mine tonight.”

I backed away, shaking my head and pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn’t believe that I was going to agree to this. “Just make sure she keeps her mouth shut, yeah? Levee and I aren’t telling people we’re together yet.”

“Not a problem. I had her sign a nondisclosure agreement.” He smiled proudly.

I arched an eyebrow, incredulous. “Who the f*ck are you? Christian Grey?”

He curled his lip in disgust. “Who the f*ck are you? A post-menopausal woman? Why do you know anything about Christian Grey?

I screwed my lips tight. No f*cking way was I telling him that that was the movie Levee and I had watched together. So, instead, I sighed and said, “Yes. Bring Jen.”

His hand shot up in the air in victory. “My dick appreciates this. A lot.” He patted my shoulder enthusiastically.

Just then, the door opened and my mom came walking in carrying a dish full of pasta salad with Jen following behind her. “Ryan, honey, I think you forgot someone outside.”

Tossing his arm around Jen’s shoulders, he replied, “Of course not, Mrs. Rivers. How could I forget about a woman this beautiful?” He glanced down at Jen and spoke in the most ridiculous baby voice I had ever heard. “Sorry, baby. Sam and I had some business to talk about.”

How that woman didn’t roll her eyes, I’d never know, because mine threatened to roll out of my head.

Ten minutes later, everyone had arrived, and we began our ascent to Levee’s place.




I knew that something was wrong the moment we arrived.

“Dear God,” I breathed as I took in the sight in front of me.

“Wow,” “Shit,” “No way,” and “Holy cow” all echoed behind me.

It had been just over six hours since I’d dropped Levee off, and somehow, during that time, her yard had been transformed into weird combination of an extravagant white wedding mixed with the state fair—complete with a small Ferris wheel and every carnival game imaginable. Pearl-colored balloons decorated the corners of each booth, while large, pink floral arrangements covered all eight of the tables under the huge, white canopy.

My mom elbowed me in the ribs. “Perhaps I should have brought something a little fancier than pasta salad…and maybe worn a cocktail dress.” She lifted her chin to a man in a tux pushing open the front door for us.

“I think our idea of a get-together might be a little different than Levee’s,” I replied.

“You think?” Meg snapped. “I’m in jeans!”

“Levee!” Morgan cried when she suddenly appeared in the doorway looking every bit like the A-list celebrity she was—perfectly styled hair, tight, white dress, designer heels, a face full of makeup, and the fakest smile I’d ever seen that woman wear.

I started laughing as her eyes found mine.

“Give me a second,” I told the group as I headed in her direction.

“Hi,” she squeaked when I wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her off her feet.

Setting her back on the ground, I asked, “What did you do?”

Her eyes flashed away. “Well, I burnt the cake I was trying to make, and then I got nervous, so I called a party planner, and I…well, I may have gone a bit overboard.”

Henry walked up behind her. “A bit?”

“Shut up and go hit on one of the waiters,” she barked before shyly looking back up at me.

Cupping my hand to my ear, I asked for clarification, “One of the waiters?”