Big Rock(59)

The only thing that would make this moment more perfect is a bottle of wine.

“Before we leave, let’s have a quick glass,” I say, heading behind the bar and grabbing a bottle I picked out for the night.

She shoots me a curious look from her side of the bar. “Do you want to just have that at home?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Here.”

I pour a glass for myself, then one for her. I slide it across the bar. I hold mine up to toast. “To re-creations.”

She furrows her brow. “What? You’re not making any sense.”

“Work with me. It’ll make sense soon.” I take a drink, then set down my glass. “Isn’t it funny how everyone thinks we’re a couple?”

“But we are a couple,” she says, shaking her head and tapping the glass. “Were you drinking a lot before you cracked this one open, Holiday?”

I’m undeterred. “We need a story,” I say, reminding her of what she told me in her kitchen the day we first decided to fake it. “Remember?” I ask, prompting her. “One Thursday night at The Lucky Spot, over a glass of wine after closing time…”

Recognition dawns, and her brown eyes twinkle. “Yes. If memory serves, you said what you just said.”

I repeat myself, holding her gorgeous gaze captive. “Isn’t it funny how everyone thinks we’re a couple?”

She remembers her line—her made-up, make-believe line about how we came together. “Maybe we should be one.”

I say nothing. She doesn’t speak either. We both recall the script, and how it called for an awkward pause.

When the pause is weighted with enough awkward, I speak, the corner of my lips curving up. “But this time, there’s more after the awkward pause,” I say, then dip my hand into my pocket.

“What happens next?” she asks breathily, her palms pressed on the counter, anticipation evident in how her shoulders curve toward me.

“A magic trick.”

“Show me.”

I leave my post and walk around the bar. When I reach her, I wave one hand behind her left ear, then I take my other hand out of my pocket, and brush it behind her right ear. “Look what I found behind your ear,” I say, then open my palm in front of her.

“Oh God,” she says, her voice catching.

I bend down to one knee and take her hand. “I have a proposition for you. When we first played make-believe fiancée, you used two words that we both swore we’d never hear again. But even then they sounded perfect coming from you. Mrs. Holiday. And that’s because you’re the only one I ever want to be Mrs. Holiday, and I hope you think it sounds as sexy and beautiful as I do. Will you marry me?”

“I love being propositioned by you, so the answer is…yes,” she says, as a tear slips down her cheek.

Never has one word been more perfect.

I hold up the ring, letting the stone catch the light from above. “This is the ring you picked out—the one you wanted, the one that’s perfect for you. It’s also the ring I got for you the first time, and it’s the one I want you to wear for always,” I say, as she holds out her hand.

“Put it on me,” she says, in between happy sobs. “It’s the only one I want. You’re the only one I want.”

I slide it on her ring finger for the second time, and I know that it will be the forever time.





ANOTHER EPILOGUE


Six months later My wife is f*cking awesome.

But don’t just take my word for it. Consider all her accomplishments.

She’s bright, she’s beautiful, she’s funny, and she married me.

End of story.

Oh, wait. There’s one more thing I have to say. So, yeah. We broke pretty much all the rules. We had sleepovers, and we lied, and it was weird, and we fell in love, and it didn’t last a week. It’s lasting a lifetime.

There are two rules we kept though. Remember how we agreed to stay friends? We remain friends. Best of friends.

Now, you’re probably wondering about that other rule. Charlotte held fast on that one, but I’m not missing a thing, especially considering how well she can tie cherry stems with her tongue. I’m the luckiest bastard on the face of the earth, because I’m madly in love with the woman I come home to every night. My wife. My best friend.

And I make her happy every night.

If you know what I mean.

And I think you do.

Happy wife = happy life.

THE END





COMING SOON!


Mister Orgasm!



Did you enjoy getting to know Nick Hammer, Spencer’s best friend? Stay tuned then for Mister Orgasm! Nick’s got a story to tell too when he starts spending more time with Harper, so get ready for another dirty, cocky, funny all-guy POV when Nick shares his story of falling for his best friend's sister! Coming in Summer 2016!

Just call me Mr. Orgasm. No, really. I insist.

Orgasms are my specialty. Delivering them. Administering them. Giving them in multiples. Then doing it again for an encore. I’m like the superhero of pleasure.

But before anyone gets all up in a lather about my “manwhore ways,” remember this. You probably didn’t even look at me years ago. You likely didn’t give me the time of day when I was the quiet geek bent over his notebook drawing cartoons about a caped crusader bestowing orgasmic pleasure to womankind.