The One Love Collection

by Lauren Blakely

  I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand and shakes her head, still crunching. “What are you going to do? Give up perfect guy after perfect guy?”

  “He’s the only perfect guy I’ve ever met,” I grumble.

  “Exactly,” she says triumphantly. “And you’re letting him go because you think you don’t deserve it. Because you can’t make time for it. Because you’ll never find another job again. Because of your brother. Because of, because of, because of. Jobs come and go, Sabrina. But good men?” She stops mid-cycle and sits up, ceasing crunching. “They don’t come around often. More like once in a blue moon.”

  “He is pretty amazing,” I concede.

  “Maybe it’s time to take care of yourself. Maybe this time, do what you want because you deserve it, not because it’s the ‘right thing to do.’ Do it because this is the only thing that makes sense to your heart.”

  I inhale deeply, processing her advice, then narrow my eyes at her. “Stop being so wise.”

  “I can’t help it. It comes naturally to me. Like crunches.”

  And just like crunches, following her advice will be hard.

  But what if it’s worth it?

  What if he’s the chance I should be taking?

  I flash back to my conversation with Kevin yesterday, to the questions he posed, to the truth I’ve known all along.

  I know what I have to do. I have to do the right thing.

  But I can also do the only thing I want for my heart.

  Because she’s right. You don’t let a once-in-a-blue-moon man pass you by.

  Flynn

  I shoot at a cardboard cutout of a building. Dylan rounds the corner and aims at a guy we know who runs a food delivery app. “Take that,” he mutters, pointing at the guy’s back with his laser gun.

  A beam of red light knocks the guy down. The dude falls dramatically and curses at Dylan. My brother simply moves on, hunting the next opponent. He’s a competitive bastard, and I’m playing laser tag with him in his CEO game at Chelsea Piers.

  Dylan careens around the corner, taking risk after risk, firing and amassing the most points. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about my brother. He’s more fearless than I am. He takes more chances.

  He was always the one who was willing to jump. I was the thinker in our partnership.

  But as I watch him giving his all, playing his heart out, I realize I could learn from him. Like Sabrina said, there’s something to our twin-ness. Maybe I need some of his Wonder Twin power.

  When we’re done, I smack him on the back and say, “You’re freaking awesome. You just go for it.”

  “Hell, yeah. Balls to the wall. Give it everything.”

  As we leave, I power my phone back on, intending to click open my text messages and ask Sabrina if she’s free to see me. I’m ready to go for it. Give it everything.

  Once my phone boots up, I find a note from her.

  Angel: Could you meet me at Gramercy Park tonight? I hear you have a key.

  26

  Sabrina

  Dear Mr. Galloway,

  Thank you so much for the opportunity to write for Up Next. I’m so grateful that you gave me this chance. I loved every moment of working on this piece. I’ve written what I think is a fair and accurate story that dives into who Flynn is and illustrates why he is a next-generation visionary.

  I turned in the piece last night, as you know, but in the interest of full disclosure, I need to inform you that while reporting this story I’ve developed feelings for Mr. Parker, and I acted upon those feelings. I would like to tell you those emotions didn’t affect what I wrote. I hope they didn’t, but that is for you to decide.

  I want you to know the facts. I will await your decision, and I remain grateful for the opportunity.

  Sincerely,

  Sabrina Granger

  As I read the letter one last time, my stomach swoops, but then everything settles down.

  A brand-new calm spreads through me. I’m no longer a caged lion.

  Perhaps that’s from knowing I’m making the right choice. I might not get the prize. I don’t have a safety net. But I hope there’s a better prize waiting for me. The best prize.

  When I look back on this moment five years from now, whether I’m with Flynn or not, I’ll know I took the chance my heart was telling me to take.

  Even if your heart has been broken, it doesn’t mean you have to put it on ice forever. It can thaw. Mine did, and sometimes it’s worth taking the leap without a net.

  Flynn is that leap.

  He’s worth it.

  There’s no what-if about it.

  My finger hovers over the send button, ready to fire it off, when a new message pops up in my inbox.

  It’s one from Mr. Galloway.

  It startles me, and I actually jump. I look behind me. It’s as if I’m being watched, which is a ridiculous thing to think. But there it is—the thought in my head.

  Maybe he already knows.

  Maybe Kermit got to him.

  I click to open the email.

  Dear Sabrina,

  Could you please come in tomorrow morning? We can discuss the piece then. It’s quite good. But there are some things I need to talk to you about.

  Sincerely,

  Bob Galloway

  I wait for the note to hurt. I wait for the fear.

  It doesn’t come.

  Whatever he has to tell me, I can handle it. I’ve made my choice. I chose love.

  I save my note to him in my drafts folder. Some things are better said in person. I will tell him tomorrow.

  Tonight is for me.

  I slip into an emerald-green dress I finished a few days ago, pop in two pairs of angel-shaped stud earrings, clip one side of my hair in a silver ladybug barrette, and head to what I hope is the first of many dates with Flynn Parker.

  27

  Sabrina

  The wrought iron gates loom before me.

  Tall spires let me peek into a world I’ve never entered.

  Not just this park but what it represents: wealth, privilege, money.

  A walkway cuts across the land beyond the locked gate, and gloriously high trees, bursting with bottle-green leaves, wrap their arms over the grounds, shielding those rare few who have access.

  I breathe it in. It’s an enclave. A private square for the privileged.

  I’ve been on the outside looking in, even though I never longed for this much. I’ve never been a girl who wanted riches showered on her. I simply wanted better choices.

  Or really, I wanted choices, period.

  But in the end, I wouldn’t do anything differently.

  I stand by all the decisions I’ve made, including the one that brought me here tonight.

  Shoes click on the sidewalk. It could be anyone—a businessman, a father, a hipster. This is a city of millions.

  But what if it’s him?

  I turn, and he takes my breath away.

  Flynn Parker is so handsome. He’s lean and tall, and his hair flops deliciously on his forehead, and his green eyes twinkle with excitement when he sees me.

  But it’s his lips I zero in on.

  Those soft, wonderful lips I want on me again.

  He closes the distance, and I have to go first, so as soon as he reaches me I say, “I want a do-over. I want a new beginning. I want the chance to say yes to us. It’s only been two days, and I miss you like crazy, and I can’t stand not having an excuse to see you. I want us to explore park benches and abandoned subways, and visit the Met, and kiss in the Great Hall, and go to costume parties dressed like Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio.” I draw a quick breath, then say the hardest and the easiest words. “Because I love you, Flynn Parker.”

  He laughs and wraps his arms around me, rubbing his hands on my back. “Well, it’s good to see you too.” He’s grinning from ear to ear, and his eyes dance with happiness.

  “I want to be with you,” I say, blurting it all out, everything. “I want to
have a go at it if you’ll have me. I want to do all the things in New York with you, and you can quote poetry to me and show me pineapple math, and we won’t have to pretend we need to fact-check anything, and I can take you to the gin joint in Chelsea tomorrow night if you want.”

  Smiling, he tugs me closer, aligning his body with mine. “So you can get me drunk?”

  “Drunk and naked,” I say, giggling, and I’m not a giggler. But right now, I’m so damn happy even though he hasn’t said “I love you” back yet. But I’m not worried because I know he will.

  This certainty—it’s worth every chance.

  It’s worth the world.

  He lifts his hand and runs his fingers across my barrette and over my hair. When he brushes the back of his fingers along my cheek, I melt. Cupping my face, he meets my gaze, holds it, and presses one soft kiss to my lips.

  I think I’m going to die of happiness.

  He breaks the kiss. “I’m madly in love with you too, Sabrina.”

  Okay, now it’s official. I’m not dying. I’ve died, and I’ve gone to heaven, only better, because I’m alive, and my life is incandescent.

  It’s starlight, and fireworks, and all the diamonds in the night sky.

  He runs a finger over my lips. “But what made you change your mind?”

  I don’t think. I don’t contemplate. I tell him the simple truth. “I missed you so much it hurt. And I want you. All of you, because you’re worth it to me.”

  “You’re worth everything to me. You need to know that. I know I shouldn’t have offered you a job, and I also know there’s not much I can give you that you’ll let me give,” he says, and I smile stubbornly, nodding in acknowledgment. “But I can be there for you. Let me give you the support you need. Let me help you as you look for whatever you want next in your career. If you need an introduction to someone, I’ll do that. If you need me to get you a massage or give you a massage, I’ll do that. If you want someone to cook you dinner while you talk about your day, I’m your man. But that’s not all I can do,” he says, and mischief plays in his eyes.

  “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?” I ask, running my hand over his arm, loving the feel of his warm skin, his muscles.

  “In the costume shop, you said I helped you to not think about things. You said the way I made love to you made it so you didn’t have to think at all,” he says, and I tremble as he says made love. I’m warm all over thinking about how he’ll do it to me tonight. “Let me help you that way. Let me help you whenever you need to not think.”

  “Like right now?”

  He laughs. “But I thought you wanted to see Gramercy Park?”

  “I do. I really do. But I want you more.”

  “We’ll come back, then, whenever you want.” He leans in close, brushes my hair over my ear, and whispers, “And now, like amorous birds of prey, rather at once our time devour.”

  I swoon. “You can’t quote Andrew Marvell, especially when his words are all randy. I told you poetry is an instant orgasm for me.”

  He smiles and gestures to the end of the block. “Let’s go to my place.”

  I grab his shirt, shaking my head. “We need to go to mine.”

  “But I live across the street.”

  “I know, but if I go into your house, it’ll feel like a palace and I’ll want to look around and really all I want to do is have you fuck me. No distractions.”

  He hails a cab, and we go to the East Village.

  28

  Flynn

  Weeks of pent-up desire rises to the surface.

  Along with other things.

  To be fair, that’s been risen for a while. Since I saw her outside Gramercy Park. Hey, my woman gives me wood. It’s just the way it is. She makes me happy too, and I couldn’t be more thrilled that she’s taking a chance with me.

  Now though? I’m ready to give her something else she needs, something I need too.

  Connection.

  The second the door clicks shut, I nibble on her neck. Her arms are still wrapped tight around me. I whisper in her ear, “You like it when I take over, right?”

  “I do,” she whispers, so husky and sexy. I reach for her hands, removing them from my neck. I drop them to her sides and wrap my hands around her wrists, looking at her gorgeous face. Her hazel eyes pierce mine. Vulnerability, arousal, readiness—that’s what I see in her eyes.

  “I need you to put your hands on the kitchen table,” I tell her as I spin her around, walking her to the table, and pressing a hand on the small of her back so she understands. “And lift your ass.”

  “Oh, God,” she whimpers as she flattens her back and lays her chest against the wood, her arms stretching straight in front of her.

  She looks like a jewel in that dress, with the emerald against her creamy, pale flesh and caramel hair. I take off my glasses and set them next to her.

  “Stay like that.” I bend to my knees and push her skirt up all the way to her ass. A loud groan rips from my throat as I see her panties. Pink. Lace. Barely there. “I don’t think anyone can legally sell these as underwear. They barely cover you, and God bless whoever made them.”

  I glance at her face, pressed to the table, and she smiles wickedly. “There’s not much to them.”

  I stare at her bare legs, every inch of my skin heated, burning with lust for her. I run my hands up the back of her thighs. “Look at you. So beautiful for me.” I slide my hands down to her ankles then kiss one cheek. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you?”

  “How long?”

  “Too fucking long. I’ve gotten off to this so many times. To going down on you.”

  A full-body shudder shimmies along her legs. As I press a kiss to the back of her knee, a soft little moan falls from her lips. “How did you do it to me? When you fantasized about it?”

  “Sometimes I spread you out on the table like this, or I turned you around and you were flat on your back, your heels at the edge of the wood.”

  She shudders.

  I kiss her right knee. “Sometimes you sat on my desk with your legs wide open and your feet up, and I had you for lunch.”

  A gasp is her response. “I would come into your office and do that for you.”

  “I know you would. And I’m going to hold you to that.” I run my hand up her thigh, cupping one cheek. “Sometimes you crawled up me and sat on my face, and you rocked your sexy little body against my mouth.”

  She groans so loud it sends a rumble through my body. It makes my bones shake with lust. This is what it’s like to want someone with every fiber of your being. This desire for her, I feel it everywhere—inside me, along my skin, in my heart, in every goddamn cell in my body. It’s like a force of its own, obliterating everything else.

  “Sometimes I’d set you on the couch, and I’d hold you down with my hands because you wiggled so much.”

  “Because it was so good,” she moans.

  I lick the back of her knee then flick my tongue up her thigh, reaching her ass. I lick across that wonderful seam where her ass meets her thigh, and she quivers. Her hands grip the edge of the table, white-knuckling it. “Of course it’s so good. It’s you and me, Angel.”

  I bite the soft flesh of her rear, and she gasps, moving closer, trying valiantly to get me to bring my face between her legs.

  “God, I want you so much. Please, please,” she whimpers. “Please take them off.”

  I slide a hand between her legs and cup her. She’s so deliciously soaked, it sends a jolt of heat down my spine, and my dick hardens even more. “So wet.”

  “Please,” she begs again.

  It’s all she can say, and I don’t need her to say anything else.

  “As you wish.” I slide down her panties, leave them on the floor, and press my lips close, but not quite close enough.

  She wriggles, trying to get me to the sweet spot. Trying to push herself against my mouth. She’s a desperate, wanton thing. I shift to the other thigh and nip her fles
h.

  She cries out and moans my name. It sounds so fucking filthy and perfect on her lips that it breaks me down. “Do you want me to put you out of your misery, Angel?”

  “Yes,” she moans, making that one syllable last like the chorus to a song.

  At last, I kiss her.

  I’m dizzy with desire. She’s sweet, salty honey. I lick her, and she cries out. Her taste floods my tongue, coats my lips. I kiss her harder, flicking my tongue across all that slippery heat.

  As I go down on her, my brain is mostly a blur. My body is nothing but lust. But three things remain crystal clear.

  I’m so fucking happy.

  I’m so incredibly turned on.

  And I’m deep in filthy, beautiful love with her.

  29

  Sabrina

  It’s too much.

  Too much pleasure, too much bliss, too much goodness.

  I’m lost in the sensations that rocket through me.

  Tingles and sparks and wild roller-coaster loops.

  I’ve become a neon woman, a sign blinking brightly against the night. Pleasure served here.

  He makes love to me with his lips, and he fucks me with his tongue, and he spears my flesh with his fingers. They dig into my thighs, and this is the most intense thing I’ve ever felt.

  I don’t have to think. I get to feel.

  My nerve endings come alive. Heat flares across my skin as his tongue lavishes attention on me. He flicks faster, kisses more deeply, makes love to me with his mouth so wickedly that I fear I might not recover.

  I believe I’ll be amenable to that.