Tamed(51)

Good times.

Alexandra was rightly and truly pissed. Of course, if her ire was directed at me, I probably wouldn’t find it so awesomely amusing. But it’s aimed squarely at Drew, so I laugh over Mackenzie’s parody and its aftershocks the entire ride home.

I only wish Delores had been with me to see it. Speaking of Dee, before I get back to the city, I stop for gas and call her to see how her day went.

“Better than expected,” she says. “But, can I stay at your place tonight? My cousin is channeling his feelings into his music. And while I love listening to him sing, if I have to hear one more f*cking song about his heart breaking, I’m going to make our food poisoning episode look like a hiccup.”

And my life just got a whole lot more perfect. I know when things first started with Dee and I, she said she wasn’t into relationships. And I know she’s had her moments of insecurity—but look at us now. She’s coming to me, asking to stay at my place. That’s a huge tell. It means she wants the same things I do. That we’re on the same page. That she’s invested—interested in a future—with me.

I chuckle against the cell phone. “Sure, I’ll be at my apartment in thirty minutes. Come on over, baby.”



It’s always darkest before the dawn. It’s a common saying. What’s less common, but equally true is, Pride comes before the fall.

Remember a while back I told you that women needed to stop playing the victim card? Stop reading into a guy’s actions, thinking they mean something more than they do, and just accept what a man is telling them, straight up? I was so into Dee, so eager to take what we had and run with it all the way into the end zone, I ignored my own advice.

Ever heard of the myth of Icarus?

You probably weren’t expecting a Greek mythology lesson, but indulge me anyway—this is important. Icarus was the son of a master craftsman. His father made him a pair of wings out of feathers and wax and warned him, before he took off, to stay on the flight path. Not to fly too high. Icarus agreed.

But once he was airborne, he was so caught up in how amazing it felt—the beauty and warmth of the sun—he forgot all about the warning. He ignored the signs that were right in front of him because he was positive he knew where he was going, thought he had everything under control.

You can guess what happened next. Yep, Icarus got burned. His wings fell apart and he came crashing back to earth.

Unfortunately . . . I can relate to that.





Chapter 16


The Bible says there’s a time for all things under heaven. A time for peace and a time for war, a time to reap and a time to sow . . . a time to love . . . and a time to tell a girl you love her.

It doesn’t actually say that. But it should. Because many poor bastards make the mistake of telling a woman at the wrong f*cking time.

Like after sex. Wrong. That’s just asking for trouble.

Or during an argument. Really wrong. There’s a reason the Doors’ song “Love Her Madly” is still popular today. Because the lyric, “Don’t you love her as she’s walking out the door” is timeless. Men don’t like to lose. Not a bet, their favorite T-shirt, or a girlfriend. In the attempt to keep from losing the latter, we could say something stupid—things we really don’t mean.

But for me, tonight is the perfect time to take my and Dee’s relationship to the next level. I had a key to my apartment made for her, and when I put it in her hands, I’m going to tell her I’m falling in love with her.

You’re not surprised, are you? Jesus, you had to have seen this coming.

I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. It happened gradually, but that’s the best way. In four weeks, Dee’s gone from a girl I wanted to nail, to a girl I wanted to hang out with, to a girl I really liked . . . to someone I don’t want to live without.

I think about her all the time, I crave her—miss her—when we’re apart, no matter how long we were just together. She’s funny and beautiful and interesting . . . and sure she’s a pain in the ass too, but—like I told you in the beginning—I love her because of her quirks, not in spite of them.

The last week and a half has been amazing. Billy’s still crashing at her apartment, so except when she’s there checking on him, she’s been here with me. But I still want more. There were plenty of times that I could have dropped the bomb on her during the last few days, but I wanted it to be memorable. Special. Something she’ll proudly tell Kate about, or someday—our kids. Girls love that shit.

I haven’t talked to her yet today. I was out of the office all day, visiting with one client after another. But she’s coming over tonight and I have the whole thing planned. You want to hear about it?

We’ll start with an excursion to the Jersey shore. My parents used to take me there all the time when I was a kid. It’s December, but most of the rides and boardwalk games are open year-round. There’s an indescribable magic to the place—an aura of simpler days—a nostalgic beauty. I’ll hold Delores’s hand, spend thirty bucks to win her a two-dollar stuffed animal on one of those games where you have to knock the weighted cans over with a baseball. We’ll ride the bumper cars, maybe a roller coaster, and we’ll share a delicious but incredibly bad for you funnel cake.

Then we’ll kick off our shoes and walk down the beach, near enough to the water so we can watch the waves in the moonlight without getting wet. It’ll be cold, so she’ll lay back against me and I’ll wrap my arms around her to keep her warm. And then, with the thunder of the crashing waves in the background, I’ll tell her.