In the darkest corners of my mind, I’d hoped this would happen. I wanted to come back to him. I wanted to leave our past behind us and start fresh, but I didn’t believe it could happen.
Watching Max crunch on another piece of bruschetta makes me realize that it is possible to start over. Not only it is possible, it’s happening.
He smiles at me again, and clinks his glass against mine.
“To us,” he says.
“To us.”
We drink our wine, and eat our food, and then I lean into the man I love and wrap my arms around him. He pulls me on top of him and we forget about dinner for a little while. We’ve got more important things to take care of.
Epilogue
Max
When I invite Naomi over to my parents’ house, I see my mother’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly in surprise. To their credit, my parents don’t make any untoward comments. I think they were disappointed when it didn’t work out between us, and they’re happy to see us together.
Ever since I quit the company, they’ve given me a lot more space. It feels good to have my own job, and to be my own man. I think my parents, for all their faults, understand that. I think they respect it, too.
Naomi’s mom is happy, too. She doesn’t hide it as well as my parents. She wraps her arms around me and lays a big, sloppy kiss on my cheek whenever she sees me. Her eyes are brighter than they were when we first met, and when I see her with Jerry, I understand why. They look as starry-eyed as I feel when I look at Naomi.
Naomi moves in with me, and her mother spends a lot of time at her apartment. She says it’s for doctor’s appointments, but I think it might have something to do with Jerry.
The partnership between PhysioFIT and my football team works perfectly, and we renew the contract for another year. I tell Coach Carter about Naomi and me right away, and he just grins at me.
Life just slips into place. It feels natural.
One sunny summer morning a few months after we decide to start over, Naomi wakes me up by wrapping her arms around me.
“I have a surprise for you,” she says.
I open my eyes one at a time, clearing the sleep from my throat. She’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and I look at her suspiciously.
“I thought you hated surprises.”
“I hate being on the receiving end of surprises,” she says. “I like giving them.”
I grin, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her down beside me. She yelps, laughing as I roll on top of her.
“Five more minutes,” I groan, closing my eyes and clamping my arms around her.
“Come on,” she laughs, poking me in the side. “Get up, get up, get up!”
I groan, trying to stop the smile from spreading on my face. “Fine. What’s this surprise?”
Naomi grabs my hand and pulls me out of bed. She smiles at me, nodding toward the living room. When I walk out, I notice the couch has been moved and she’s cleared a space in the corner. There’s a yoga mat on the ground, and a foam roller with a few bands hanging off the wall.
“Your very own physio corner!” She proclaims. “I bought all the stuff online and set it up this morning. You’ve been slacking on your knee.”
“I thought this surprise would be nice and romantic,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “This just looks like work.”
Naomi wraps her arms around my waist and lays a soft kiss on my lips. “It is work, but I remember you saying that Connor had asked you to be on his fall football team. The season starts in three months, and I think we can get your knee strong enough to play.”
My heart jumps. “Yeah?”
She nods. “I can work with you right here at home. I’ve developed a plan that I think should get you well enough to play by September.”
My eyes widen as I look at the little physical therapy corner she’s made. I tighten my arm around her as my throat closes with emotion.
“Naomi…”
She smiles. “Come on, let me show you. So I bought a foam roller and one of these spiky balls that you hate.”
“Great,” I say. Naomi laughs. She explains what all the things are for, and walks me through her plan for the next few months. I sit down and rub my hand over my knee, watching her stretch one of the rubber bands and demonstrate a new exercise for me.
My heart grows in my chest as I watch her.
She’s incredible. Thoughtful, smart, dedicated, and all mine. I feel like I’ve won the lottery. When she’s finished her demonstration, she stands up and puts her hands on her hips, looking at the equipment and smiling at me.
“So what do you think?”
I stand up and wrap my arms around her. “I think you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
She smiles and tilts her chin up. I kiss her, holding her close to me and feeling my heart beat along with hers.
It takes almost three years for me to propose to her again. My heart thumps when I open the little black velvet box and show her my grandmother’s ring once again. I’m down on one knee, proposing to her how I should have done it the first time.
“Get up, you goon,” she laughs with tears in her eyes. “Of course I’ll marry you. But I’m not signing any stupid contracts this time.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”
I slip the ring on her finger. This time, she doesn’t look scared. She doesn’t look overwhelmed. She looks as happy as I feel.
I kiss the woman of my dreams for the millionth time. And for the millionth time, my whole body thrums for her, and my heart beats faster. This time, I’m not going to lose her.
This time, I’m going to marry the love of my life.
Want free bonus chapters for all my books, including the Mr. Right series? Click the link below:
LET ME IN
xox Lilian
Engaged to Mr. Wrong
The Mr. Right Series: Book 2
1
Farrah
My big diamond ring sparkles in the dim sunlight as I grip my thigh. Elijah revs the engine and speeds up on the snowy, winding road up to his parents’ cabin. I tighten my grip, one hand on my thigh and the other on the car’s door handle. I close my eyes for an instant as my stomach lurches up to my throat.
Mr. Moose, my French bulldog, whines in the backseat as the car speeds around another bend. I glance back at him and my heart squeezes. He’s shaking, and he looks as terrified as I feel.
“Babe, do you think you could slow down a little? We’re not in any rush.” My voice sounds weak and timid, even to my ears. Trees whip past us in a blur as he angles around another curve. “Moose is scared.”
Instead of answering, he drops his foot down and the car throws me back further into my seat. I take a deep breath, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.
I hate the way he drives.
I’m not sure if he accelerated on purpose, but it still hurts to be ignored. I cling to the side of the door and take deep breaths as the car swings me from one side to the other.
“Elijah—”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“I know, babe, it’s just…”
“What?” We make another turn and I’m flung the other way. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the hammering of my heart. I open one eye, glancing out the window at the sheer cliff face to our right. One split second decision could send us hurling down that valley.
I can’t think like that.
“I would just really prefer it if we slowed down. I want to enjoy the view.”
Elijah’s face hardens as his lips form a thin line. His hands tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. The tension ripples through his forearms as he keeps up the breakneck speed through the forest road.
“It was your decision to bring Moose. If we’d have left him at the kennel like I said, he wouldn’t be scared right now.”
But I would be.
I take a deep breath, blinking away the tears. Music is blaring on the radio, and it only makes my hea
rt rate speed up.
We make another turn, and a big eighteen-wheeler truck appears in front of us. I know Elijah will want to overtake the truck, even on a snowy, winding forest road. I close my eyes and grit my teeth. I can feel the car inching toward the left, and Elijah leans his body over to look past the truck.
We’re going to overtake it. I know we are. It’s a double yellow line, with low visibility and a dangerous road, but I can feel Elijah’s movements beside me.
I can’t say anything. Look what happened last time I spoke up! He stepped on the gas and sped up. We get closer to the truck and I steal a glance over at my fiancé. His eyes are glued on the road. We inch over the center line and I close my eyes.
He presses on the accelerator and I make a silent prayer.
I don’t want to die.
Not like this.
Not out of control, speeding down a road in dangerous conditions. Not with my dog terrified in the backseat. I grind my teeth together until I feel the car lurch back toward the right, breathing heavily.
Elijah lets out a loud whoop and then looks over at me. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
“What do you think about that?”
I just grimace in response. I can’t manage a smile right now.
By the time we get to his parents’ cabin in upstate New York, I feel like I want to kiss the ground. I stumble out of the car and stretch my neck, keeping my back to Elijah as I wipe the last tears from my eyes. I turn to the back door of the car and open it up. Mr. Moose leaps into my arms and I rub his head. He’s shaking like a leaf, and the anger in my stomach swells.
The front doors fling open and Elijah’s mother walks out with wide open arms.
I’ll talk to him about the driving tonight when we’re alone. For now, I need to put on my best ‘with the in-laws’ personality.
So, I just plaster a smile on my face and turn to Mrs. Matthews. She’s beaming.
“Elijah! Honey! And Farrah! Come in, come in,” she says, waving us forward. “Don’t worry about the bags, Gerard will get those for us. Gerard!” She turns around and calls out into the hallway. An older gentleman in a crisp suit appears.
He nods to Mrs. Matthews and heads toward the car.
I take a deep breath as Elijah comes around the car toward me. He snakes his arm around my back and kisses my temple.
“You didn’t tell me you guys had a butler,” I whisper to him.
“He’s a concierge. Come on, let’s go inside.”
I nod, forcing a smile on my face. I clench my fists to stop my hands from shaking, drawing comfort from my dog’s warmth. He’s not trembling so hard anymore. Elijah rubs my lower back and kisses my temple again.
How can he be so tender now after being so inconsiderate in the car? Is it just because his mother is here?
I shake off the thought and follow him toward the cabin.
Well, cabin is probably the wrong word for it. More like forest-themed mansion. The massive building is made of huge logs stacked on top of each other. It’s perched on a hill, surrounded by lush pine forests on three sides. There are huge bay windows reaching up to an A-line roof, and I can see the same windows all the way through the great room on the other side. The view of Lake Ontario through the house looks incredible.
The ‘cabin’ is about three times bigger than our place in Hoboken, New Jersey, which is saying a lot. Well—bigger than Elijah’s place. He’s the one on the NFL quarterback’s salary and the big mansion and gleaming cars.
I’m a financial manager for a big construction company, so I do alright for myself. Realistically, though, Elijah’s salary could support us both many times over.
Mrs. Matthews is waiting for us in the foyer. I put Moose down as he goes to greet Elijah’s mother. He sniffs her curiously as she scratches his ear, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least she seems to like dogs more than Elijah does. We kick off our boots and shed our layers of winter clothes before Mrs. Matthews wraps us both in big hugs.
I’m always surprised by the strength of her embrace. For such a slender woman, she’s very strong. She waves us forward, all the while babbling about the weather and the drive and the problems they’ve had with the gas supply.
“The drive was fine,” Elijah said. “Made it here in just under three hours.”
“Under three hours!” Mrs. Matthews says, turning around and looking at us, wide-eyed. “Goodness, that’s fast.”
“Yes,” I agree, stealing a glance at Elijah. He ignores me.
We make our way down a short hallway until we get to the huge, L-shaped kitchen, living, and dining area. The roof is at least three stories high, with huge exposed beams and rafters that give the whole place a chic, rustic feel. It seems wrong to describe this palace as ‘rustic’, but I can tell that’s the look they’re going for.
Mrs. Matthews hands me a mug of mulled wine with a smile. I wrap my fingers around the warm mug and inhale deeply.
“Smells incredible,” I say with a smile. She must have forgotten that I don’t drink, but I don’t want to be rude. “Did you make it yourself, Mrs. Matthews?”
She just laughs, and then nods to the grey-haired woman who enters through a swinging door. “Maria made it all,” Mrs. Matthews says. “She’s an angel. And please, for the last time, call me Shannon!”
“Sorry,” I smile. “Shannon.”
Maria places a huge tray down on the carved wood dining table. She’s in her sixties, I think, and has a no-nonsense look about her. She looks at me straight in the eye and then gives me a once-over with laser-sharp eyes. I stand a bit straighter. Then, she nods to the tray of food. It’s laden with hot appetizers and dips and an assortment of veggies. She nods to us and ducks back through the swinging doors.
I feel like I’ve entered an alternate universe. This is so different from Christmas at my family’s place that it doesn’t even feel like the same world.
The thought almost makes me laugh. Here, no one is belligerent, no one is crying. There isn’t the smell of whiskey on anyone’s breath. It’s… pleasant.
My belly rumbles and I walk over to Maria’s food. I choose a carrot stick and a mini quiche, and sit down beside Elijah on the couch. I listen as he and his mother talk about everything and nothing. My gaze drifts out to the windows. They’re frosted at the edges, giving the impression of a wintry frame. It makes the dark, stormy water look even colder than it already does.
I shiver involuntarily, bringing my mug of mulled wine up to my nose to warm me up.
“So where’s Dad?” Elijah asks, throwing a mini spring roll in his mouth.
“Oh, he and Jesse are out chopping some wood for the fire. They should be back any minute.”
“Should Dad be chopping wood? Couldn’t that throw out his back again?”
Shannon waves a hand, sitting down across from us and smoothing her pants down over her thighs. “You know how your father is. And speak of the devil! Here’s Bruce!” She exclaims as the French doors open. A cold draft of air blows into the living room as Elijah’s father appears.
He’s wrapped up from head to toe in thick, wooly clothing. Only his eyes are visible, and he’s leaning on a black cane. I can spot a wagon-full of freshly-chopped wood behind him. He rests the cane against the wall and turns toward us.
“Brr!” He says, looking over at us and pulling his wool scarf down. “Chilly out there!”
“Storm’s coming,” Shannon agrees. Bruce pulls the little wagon of wood through the door. Elijah and I jump up to help stack it near the living room fireplace.
“Where’s Jesse?” Elijah asks, hauling half a dozen logs across the room. I grab two and follow his footsteps to the huge stone fireplace.
“He went for a shower to wash up after all the chopping. He did most of it,” Bruce laughs. “I’m not the man I used to be.”
He kicks off his boots and helps us with the firewood. I follow Elijah toward the other end of the room, holding my small load of logs. Once he’s stacked his, he turns to me and
grabs the wood out of my arms.
I yelp as a sharp, needling pain goes through my palm. Elijah must have pulled the wood away a bit too forcefully, because a splinter of wood buries itself into my hand. I pull my palm away, inhaling sharply and cradling my hand. Moose lets out a small bark and comes trotting up toward me, placing his front paws on my legs and staring up at me.
“What’s wrong?” Elijah says, frowning at me. He stacks the logs neatly next to the hearth and faces me, placing his hands on his hips.
I grit my teeth, opening my palm. It hurts to stretch my fingers. A huge, inch-long splinter is visible under my skin.
“Splinter.”
Elijah frowns. Bruce appears next to me and starts stacking his logs. “What’s going on?”
“I got a bit of a splinter,” I explain. “Have you guys got tweezers?”
“Oh you poor dear,” Shannon exclaims, appearing beside me. They all crowd around my hand. “We have a first aid kit in the pool house out back, otherwise I can run upstairs and get my tweezers.”
Elijah brushes past me to get some more firewood from the stack near the French doors. I watch him walk away from me and my chest stings.
I know my splinter is just a minor injury and his mother is taking care of me. Still, watching my fiancé walk away as if he doesn’t care hurts more than the shard of wood in my palm.
I force a smile. “Where’s the pool house? I can just run out and get the first aid kit.”
“Oh, I’ll help you,” Shannon says, leading me back to the French doors. “Put these boots on, they’ll fit you,” she says, shoving furry boots at me.
Maria appears in the doorway. “Mrs. Matthews,” she says. “You’re needed in the kitchen.”
Shannon turns to me and I smile. “Go ahead,” I say. “Is that the pool house over there?” I point to the big building in the backyard.
“That’s the one. The first aid kit is just under the sink in the kitchen.”
Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Page 18