My brow furrows.
“Dean made it sound like you were set on staying here. I didn’t know if that meant you never wanted to see me again or if you might be open to a long distance relationship. All I knew was I wanted things to be as easy as possible. I wanted your mind free to think about us and not material things.”
I give him a tiny smile. “I only said I was staying here because I thought you didn’t want me. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
His eyes grow hungry. “You’d come back to Chicago?”
“What’s keeping me here?”
He kisses me again, and it’s more intense than before. His tongue parts my lips as it searches out mine, and I mold my body to his. When I catch my breath, I say, “It’s a good thing Pete will let me stay with him.”
Latson meets my eyes and shakes his head. “No. No more brothers, or crazy groupies, or asshole record label execs.”
I bite my lower lip. “About that …”
He frowns.
“Ariel asked me to write for her. I said yes. I don’t know how the industry works, but I may run into Caleb again.”
Latson rests his forehead against mine.
“You have to know he has nothing to offer me. Not a career and certainly not himself.”
Latson runs his hands to my shoulders and then buries his fingers in my hair. “I know. Everything that happened the day of the funeral … seeing that picture on top of missing you … it was too much. Please believe I trust you; I do. I know your heart, and it would never hurt me.”
My mouth crashes down on his. I can’t stop myself; his words are perfection. They’re exactly what I needed to hear.
Latson turns our bodies and backs me against the bed. As his mouth zeroes in on my neck and my stomach flutters, I ask, “Does this mean you want me to move in with you?”
His words are muffled against my skin. “Hell, yes.”
With those words, my hands start to roam his body. As I debate going for his shirt or his shorts, my instincts take over and decide for me; I find the bottom of his shirt and push it up. I don’t get far however, because he steps back and finishes the job. I try to reach for him again, but as soon as my hands slide across his bare skin, he backs farther away.
“One sec.” He gives me my favorite smile and jogs over to the door. He shuts it quietly. “I don’t think we need an audience.”
My eyes grow wide. How could I forget about Oliver? “We don’t have to do this right now.”
Before I can blink Latson’s standing in front of me again. “We are doing this, and we are doing it now.” One of his hands grips my hip, while the other cradles the nape of my neck. “I’ve waited too damn long for you.”
I smile. “A month’s your limit?”
“No.” He pulls me closer. “Life kept me waiting too long for you. I’m never letting you go.”
His words make my heart race, and I trace his bottom lip with my thumb. “Promise?”
His lips
meet mine in a scorching kiss. “I promise.”
Epilogue ~ One Year Later
“Jules. Would you stop fixing my hair? I love it.”
I watch in the mirror as she plays with more strands of my “messy” twist. It’s a very precise hairstyle to be labeled messy.
“It has to be perfect,” she says, determined. “Everything about this day has to be perfect.”
I sigh. “It looks great. You need to get ready. Nothing can happen today without you.”
She stops picking at me and looks down at her satin slip. “I guess you’re right. Pete wouldn’t like it if I walked down the aisle half-naked.”
“Or maybe he would.” I wink at her and she playfully shoves me.
Jules leaves my side, and I look in the mirror again. I touch a few of the pearl pins she put in my hair. They’re simple, elegant, and perfectly placed. Over my shoulder, I catch Gwen’s reflection wiggling into her plum-colored bridesmaid dress.
“What time do we have to leave again?” she asks.
Jules beats me to answering her question. “Twelve-thirty. We don’t have much time.”
I shake my head and smile. My sister-in-law is the best, but she’s taking this day so seriously I’m afraid she’s going to stroke out before it’s over. She’s coordinated everything right down to the minute.
A knock on the door distracts me from Jules’ potential need for an ambulance. She tries to race me to open it, but I leap off the vanity bench and beat her to it. Her eyes grow wide. “You don’t know who it is!”
I stick out my tongue and open the door anyway. I’m not as superstitious as she is. When I turn to greet our visitor, a smile breaks across my face. “Hey! You made it.”
“We did.” Ariel wrestles with a diaper bag in one hand and a baby carrier in the other. “Can you take her for a sec? She’s getting heavy.”
“Sure.” I reach for baby Piper and carry her into my childhood bedroom. She’s so chunky and adorable; I just want to squeeze her. At five months old I already know she’s going to be a heartbreaker. I am a little biased though; she is my goddaughter after all.
Setting the carrier on my old twin bed, I peer inside and use my baby voice, which I’m sure is annoying. “How’s my girl?” Piper just stares at me and chews on her fist.
“Your girl is entirely too awake at the moment.” Ariel drops the diaper bag. “I really hoped she’d be napping by now.”
I undo the straps to her carrier and lift her out. “Let me talk to her,” I say.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Jules rushes to my side. “What if she throws up on you?”
I make a face. “She won’t throw up on me.” I settle Piper against my stomach, her back to my front, so she can see what’s going on. “Besides, she’s one of us. We have to get a look at her dress.” She’s dolled up in purple, from her tiny headband, to her outfit, to her little tights.
“Speaking of dresses …” Ariel gestures for me to turn around and I do. “You look stunning. Gunnar may pass out.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
“I thought the baby was here!” My mom rushes into the room and makes grabby hands. “Let me have her.”
I roll my eyes and hand her over. It’s useless to fight with my mom over Piper, or any baby for that matter.
“When are you going to convince these two to give me grandchildren?” My mom talks to Piper as she sets her on her hip. She looks between me and Jules. “I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
Jules turns around and pretends to be interested in finding her heels while I put my hand on my hip. “One thing at a time, okay? And what’s Oliver? Chopped liver?”
“You know I love Ollie to death,” my mom says as she canoodles the baby.