My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(83)
After a cup of coffee, we head to the Fontana dei Libri, since Axel claims we need a picture.
I shoot him a look. “You’re not a picture person.”
“Give a guy a chance to change, Hazel. C’mon.”
When we reach the small fountain where we first reconnected more than a year ago, I dip my hand into my jeans pocket, rooting around for some coins. I know what to wish for so I toss a nickel in right away, then turn to Axel to hand him one.
But he’s no longer right next to me.
He’s on one knee.
My heart catches.
“Don’t marry a bed,” he begins. “Marry me, Hazel Valentine. I love you more than coffee, more than wine, more than being right, more than books, more than stories. I love you more than I ever imagined, more than I thought you’d let me love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life bickering, bantering, loving, and being with you. Just you.”
It’s too late to stop the waterworks and I don’t even try. I sink to my knees where the man I spend my days and nights with slides a gorgeous emerald onto my finger.
Then, I hold his face. “My wish just came true. To be with you always.”
“Sweetheart,” he says, full of swagger and love, “you’re stuck with me.”
“And hold the tuna,” I say, then we kiss in front of the fountain of books.
Fitting for the next chapter in the story of my so-called love life.
Do you want more from these characters right now? Be sure to turn the pages for a Hazel and Axel extended epilogue! While you wait for Rachel’s and Carter’s sexy romance to come to KU in June in PLAYS WELL WITH OTHERS, be sure to download The RSVP for FREE in KU. It’s set in the same world in New York! Turn the page for an excerpt!
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EXCERPT - THE RSVP
Harlow
I walk into Ava’s Bistro, heading to the private room for the Granger party.
There, I see Bridger, his evening stubble lining his chiseled jaw, his forest-green shirt hugging his biceps. He’s giving a bouquet of purple gerbera daisies to the happy couple. Vivian takes them, hugs them to her chest, then smiles magnificently at her fiancé’s business partner.
My father claps Bridger on the back affectionately, then shifts his focus to another set of guests as Vivian sets down the flowers on a table.
Bridger spins around, searching, and—I hope—finding what he wants when his gaze lands on me.
For a few breath-held seconds, there’s delight in his dark blue eyes. Like he’s glad I’m here. Like I’m that person you glom onto when you don’t want to talk to anyone else.
He’s that person for me.
I take a step closer, caught up in him. He nods toward the flowers. His eyes darken. “Your favorite,” he says, a tease of a smile on his lips.
My heart slams against my ribs.
He got them for them. But really, they’re for me.
Could this be what I’ve been looking for? The sign I’ve been hoping to find on this flirtation road?
The man remembered my favorite flowers from months ago. “They are,” I whisper, my voice feathery as I corroborate his observation. “Maybe I’ll take them home tonight.”
“Maybe you should.”
Maybe we are accomplices. Maybe we both need this complicit escape from the madhouse of my father’s engagement. Maybe it’s not just me.
I don’t look elsewhere. I don’t care if I’m giving away what’s happening inside me when I look at him, when I’m near him.
I tingle all over, then one more time when he makes the next move, asking, “How was your day?”
“It was good,” I say. “How was yours?”
“Not bad. I went for a run,” he says, with a wink in his tone.
I light up. “I went for a ride,” I say.
I don’t say the next thing—I didn’t see you.
But I know what he’s not saying.
I didn’t see you either, Harlow. I looked for you. My days are better when I run into you.
My vague daydreams about him don’t feel so vague any longer. They feel possible. And I know, in this second, it’s time to make a plan.
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