Unbreak My Heart(57)

I kiss her forehead, feeling his presence, and at last understanding him completely.



*

We leave and I take Holland’s hand.

“She’s adorable,” Holland says, squeezing my fingers. “I think I’m in love with her already.”

“She’s easy to fall in love with.”

“She feels like my niece too. Is it weird that I think that?”

I laugh. “No, it’s not weird at all.” Then I stop laughing.

The time is right, because sometimes it just is. Sometimes you have to grab the opportunity to let the ones you love know how much you love them. “But what if she became your niece officially?”

Holland stops in her tracks and shoots me a curious look. “Andrew . . .”

“Holland . . .” The ball is in my court, so I bring her close, cup her cheeks. “Want to go ring shopping so we can get married?”

She laughs, incredulous. “For real?”

I nod. “As if there’s any other ending to our story but that. I’m marrying you, and you’re going to be mine forever. Are you okay with that?”

I’m not nervous. I’m not worried. We are an inevitability. We are the sun and the moon and the stars.

She smiles. “I’m more than okay with that.”

More than okay. Yeah, I’d say the same for myself. I found a way through, and now I’m living and loving with everything I have. I’m much more than okay.

I’m whole again.



THE END





Thank you for reading UNBREAK MY HEART! This book is a little different than my usual fun, sexy, sweet contemporary romances, and I’m so delighted that you took a chance on it! I’d love to hear what you thought! Feel free to drop me an email at [email protected] and be sure to sign up for my newsletter to receive an alert when my next books are available!





Coming next is ONCE UPON A REAL GOOD TIME, a fun, sexy, swoony rock star romance releasing in September! Chapter One follows and you can order it on most retailers!





Mackenzie



I’m not checking him out.

I am solely focused on answering the next trivia question. The game emcee spouts it out for the four teams vying for the prize at The Grouchy Owl bar. The prize being bragging rights.

The hostess clears her throat, brings the mic to her mouth, and asks the question: “Which Las Vegas hotel did the bachelor party stay at—”

I’m perched forward in the chair whispering the answer to my teammate—Caesars, Caesars, Caesars—so we can write it on the answer slip before the hostess even finishes.

“—in the 2009 movie The Hangover?”

“So easy,” I say to Roxy as she smacks my palm and mouths ringer while filling in the answer.

I’m not a ringer.

I was simply fed a steady diet of Trivial Pursuit, trivia books, and endless facts about the world as a kid.

That’s all.

Also, I love trivia. Trivia helped me through some tough times as an adult, and by tough, I mean anxiety-ridden, sleepless, and stressful. That kind of tough.

As the hostess flips her cards to the next question, the guy on stage—the one I’m not at all checking out—adjusts the amp for his guitar. The Grouchy Owl has a little bit of everything—from darts, to pub quizzes, to pool, to live music from local bands. It’s like a Vegas hotel right here in the West Village. Big Ike doesn’t want patrons to leave, so she makes sure the entertainment options are plentiful.

And if that handsome hottie stays on the stage, I won’t want to head home for a long, long time. Except I’ll have to. I’m Cinderella, and I turn into a pumpkin in minutes.

But for now . . . Hello, nice view.

As the guy turns the knob on the amp, his brown hair flops over his eyes. He flicks it off his forehead with a quick snap then runs his fingers down the strings on his guitar. Those fingers fly.

I bet they’d fly other places too.

Come to think of it, I better give him a full and proper appraisal, especially since the Jeopardy!-style theme clock blasting from the hostess’s phone is counting down the seconds till we’ve all penned an answer to her latest question, which means I have time to ogle.

A thin blue T-shirt reveals inked and toned arms, and stubble covers his jaw—deliberate stubble. Not the I-didn’t-shave-today stubble, but a healthy amount of scruff. Yum.

“Would you like your camera to take a picture, or have you captured Guitar Hero in your brain for posterity?”

I jerk my gaze back to Roxy.

Note to self: develop some subtlety when ogling. Especially since you’re out of practice on . . . everything.

I flip a strand of hair off my shoulder. “I wasn’t checking him out.”

Roxy rolls her hazel eyes. “I’m hereby awarding you a trophy for the most unconvincing attempt at denial ever.”

I huff. “Fine. He’s crazy handsome. Look at those cheekbones. Those lips. Those eyes.”

She sings his praises too. “Those hands, that ass, those legs.”

I swat her arm. “Stop perving on my eye candy.”

My best friend smiles wickedly. “It’s so easy to see through you.”

“I didn’t deny it for long.” I hold up one finger. “For, like, one round of denial.”