by Aly Martinez
She picked invisible lint off my shirt. “Did you tell her that I know Lionel?”
“Um, if I had, I wouldn’t tell you not to be nervous. I’d tell you to run and hide.”
She giggled then kissed me again.
“I did tell her to bring the photo album though.”
Levee drew in a sharp breath. “Yesssss!” she hissed.
“That’s right. I’ll sacrifice my own manhood by allowing my mother to show you photos of me with a Jheri curl just to make sure you’re comfortable. You should know I expect you to express your appreciation with your mouth around my cock tonight.”
Sliding her hand to my ass, she replied with a quick, “Deal.”
* * *
After running at least a dozen errands, which included picking up a cooler full of beer for later that night, I was chilling on my couch, working on a new Photoshopped picture for Levee, when Ryan suddenly flew through my front door. Sampson started raising hell only to settle when he recognized who it was.
“What the fuck?” I yelled as the door slammed behind Ryan.
He propped himself against it as if a pack of zombies were hot on his heels. “Say yes,” he panted.
“What?” I asked, closing my laptop and setting it beside me.
“You’re my best friend. I’d do anything in the entire world for you. I love you like a brother. Just say fucking yes!”
“What are you talking about?” I snapped, pushing to my feet.
“Okay, I didn’t want to have to do this, but do you remember that time in high school when I did your Great Gatsby book report for you?”
“Uhhhh, you only did my report because you broke the dishwasher by filling it with laundry detergent and you needed me to fix it before your mom found out,” I quickly corrected.
He huffed. “That is not the point. You had a need and I took care of it.”
I rolled my eyes. “What do you need?”
He drew in a deep breath and straightened the collar on his button-down. “I need to get in Jen Jensen’s pants, and the way you can take care of this is by allowing me to bring her to meet your famous girlfriend.”
“No fucking way! Family only!”
Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door.
Ryan smiled sheepishly. “Oh, and by the way, I already invited her. We just had a fantastic lunch and a very romantic stroll around the park.”
My mouth gaped as I blinked in utter shock. “I made out with Jen. And you want me to take her to my girlfriend’s house for a barbeque?”
“Why must you always remind me that you made out with my future wife? It was one kiss over a year ago.”
I stepped into his face. “She grabbed my junk, dude.”
He stepped right back into mine and snarled, “Awesome. Now, say yes so she’ll be grabbing mine tonight.”
I backed away, shaking my head and pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn’t believe that I was going to agree to this. “Just make sure she keeps her mouth shut, yeah? Levee and I aren’t telling people we’re together yet.”
“Not a problem. I had her sign a nondisclosure agreement.” He smiled proudly.
I arched an eyebrow, incredulous. “Who the fuck are you? Christian Grey?”
He curled his lip in disgust. “Who the fuck are you? A post-menopausal woman? Why do you know anything about Christian Grey?
I screwed my lips tight. No fucking way was I telling him that that was the movie Levee and I had watched together. So, instead, I sighed and said, “Yes. Bring Jen.”
His hand shot up in the air in victory. “My dick appreciates this. A lot.” He patted my shoulder enthusiastically.
Just then, the door opened and my mom came walking in carrying a dish full of pasta salad with Jen following behind her. “Ryan, honey, I think you forgot someone outside.”
Tossing his arm around Jen’s shoulders, he replied, “Of course not, Mrs. Rivers. How could I forget about a woman this beautiful?” He glanced down at Jen and spoke in the most ridiculous baby voice I had ever heard. “Sorry, baby. Sam and I had some business to talk about.”
How that woman didn’t roll her eyes, I’d never know, because mine threatened to roll out of my head.
Ten minutes later, everyone had arrived, and we began our ascent to Levee’s place.
* * *
I knew that something was wrong the moment we arrived.
“Dear God,” I breathed as I took in the sight in front of me.
“Wow,” “Shit,” “No way,” and “Holy cow” all echoed behind me.
It had been just over six hours since I’d dropped Levee off, and somehow, during that time, her yard had been transformed into a weird combination of an extravagant white wedding mixed with the state fair—complete with a small Ferris wheel and every carnival game imaginable. Pearl-colored balloons decorated the corners of each booth, while large, pink floral arrangements covered all eight of the tables under the huge, white canopy.
My mom elbowed me in the ribs. “Perhaps I should have brought something a little fancier than pasta salad…and maybe worn a cocktail dress.” She lifted her chin to a man in a tux pushing open the front door for us.
“I think our idea of a get-together might be a little different than Levee’s,” I replied.
“You think?” Meg snapped. “I’m in jeans!”
“Levee!” Morgan cried when she suddenly appeared in the doorway looking every bit like the A-list celebrity she was—perfectly styled hair, tight, white dress, designer heels, a face full of makeup, and the fakest smile I’d ever seen that woman wear.
I started laughing as her eyes found mine.
“Give me a second,” I told the group as I headed in her direction.
“Hi,” she squeaked when I wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her off her feet.
Setting her back on the ground, I asked, “What did you do?”
Her eyes flashed away. “Well, I burnt the cake I was trying to make, and then I got nervous, so I called a party planner, and I…well, I may have gone a bit overboard.”
Henry walked up behind her. “A bit?”
“Shut up and go hit on one of the waiters,” she barked before shyly looking back up at me.
Cupping my hand to my ear, I asked for clarification, “One of the waiters?”
Henry lifted his hand and wiggled four fingers, quickly extending it for a shake when Levee turned to glare at him.
I reached out and took his hand. “What’s up, man?”
“You know, just drinking your girlfriend’s Cristal and trying to convince her that red shoes would’ve looked better with that dress. But what do I know?” He shrugged, tipping a champagne glass to his lips.
My eyes once again found Levee’s. “Cristal?”
She huffed. “I already said I overdid it. Don’t give me shit. I was nervous, and that party planner was wicked pushy. I told her kids were coming, and before I knew what happened, carnies were setting up.”
I grabbed the back of her neck and bent to touch my lips to hers. “I’m not going to give you shit. It’s really nice. Completely unnecessary. But sweet nonetheless. Is there cake?”
Her body melted as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “Red velvet and chocolate.”
“Good! Morgan’s birthday is next week. I’m telling her this is her party. Save Meg and Ty some cash.” I winked. Releasing her, I tossed my arms out to my sides and spun to face my family. “Happy birthday, Morgan!”
Her eyes lit as she threw her hands over her mouth.
As if on cue, Henry bustled out the door. “Wait. Morgan’s here?”
At the sight of him, Morgan burst into tears.
Meg and Ty laughed.
My mom clutched her heart.
Jen’s cheeks pinked as she gasped.
Ryan looked down at her and cursed, shooting an angry glare in Henry’s direction.
Levee’s arm looped around my waist.
And I smiled for what felt like the very first time.
&
nbsp; Chapter Twenty-Six
Levee
“AND HERE IS Sam at four. We went for ‘All Night Long’ Lionel that year. I think it turned out pretty great,” Sam’s mom said as she turned the page of a huge photo album.
For over an hour, the two of us had sat at one of the corner tables flipping through page after page of Sam’s childhood. There were numerous pictures of Anne and Sam’s dad too. It was easy to see where Sam got his good looks, but after talking to his mom, it was easy to see how he’d turned out to be such an amazing man as well.
“All right. Enough is enough,” Sam said as he strolled up beside us with a beer in one hand and a gift bag in his other.
“Whatcha got there, hot stuff?” I asked as he placed the gift bag in front of me.
“Well, I figured we should show Mom our photo album too?” He tossed me a mischievous grin.
“We have a photo album?” I asked.
“Yep,” he answered as his smile grew. “Hey, Henry. Wanna see how Levee and I met?”
I immediately pushed to my feet as my eyes nervously flashed down to his mom. I did not want her to know how Sam and I had met. Hell, I wished Sam didn’t even remember how we’d met.
“Umm, maybe we shouldn’t do this here?”
Looping an arm around my waist, he tugged me against his chest and whispered, “It’s not what you think.”
I swallowed hard and searched his eyes, finding them dancing with humor. “Okay,” I breathed, sitting back down as everyone gathered around us.
After reaching into the bag, I pulled out a rectangular book. It was the shape of a license plate, and on the front, in an airbrushed font, was Sam & Levee 4-eva.
I started laughing, but as I opened the book, my vision began to swim.
Yeah, Sam had been busy.
Once upon a time… was written in script across the top of the page. The image was one of Sam’s composites where he’d cropped us together. And, for once, I wasn’t falling on my face. We appeared to be on a street corner, and Sam was sitting on the ground in filthy clothes, holding a cup for change, with Sampson sleeping at his side. His mouth was hanging open in awe as he looked up at me.
For me, he had used a still from one of my music videos where I was dressed from head to toe like the princess America viewed me as. My expression was fierce, and my curls were blown back away from my face while my leg peeked from the high slit in my sexy version of a ball gown.
“Oh my God,” I laughed.
The next page read: The princess met a pauper and gave him a job building her bookshelves.
The image was of me standing over him with my arms crossed while he looked like he was yelling at me, but in his hand was the unmistakable hollowed-out body of one of my Gibsons.
I sucked in a sharp breath, looking up at him in question.
“I only made you two of them,” he explained. “I figure you can sign the other two and we can donate them to a charity auction or something. Make us both feel better about destroying twenty-four grand.”
At that, my vision did more than just swim. A tear rolled down my cheek as a huge smile spread across my lips.
Sam used his thumb to wipe it away, whispering, “I’m glad you approve.”
I went back to the book, turning the page to find the caption: The princess didn’t realize how much she would like the pauper’s beer and chicken.
I burst into laughter at the picture of Sam in a pair of jeans that were riding low on his hips. He was shirtless and his abs were flexed impossibly tight, and if I wasn’t mistaken, they were airbrushed a good bit too. Even from behind the beer bottle that was tipped to his lips, I could see the smirk on his mouth.
I had no idea how he’d found a picture of me on my hands and knees, but somehow, he had, and he’d placed me directly in front of him. If it hadn’t been for the rooster I appeared to be chasing from between his feet, it would have most definitely been X-rated.
Henry suddenly piped up behind me. “I’m going to need a copy of this book.”
“Consider it done,” Sam answered without hesitation.
The next page read: And that was when the princess began falling for the pauper.
I immediately recognized the picture as the first one he had ever sent me. Everyone around us began laughing, but warmth washed over me at the memory.
The following pages were the rest of the pictures he’d sent me while I had been in Maine. Each one was captioned with: And falling…
With each page, the group would laugh louder, pausing to point out something funny, like the random chickens Sam had hidden in background. I, however, couldn’t tear my eyes off him—in person or in the pictures. In Sam’s little story, I was the princess and he was the pauper, but in that moment, with his friends and family huddled around us, I realized he was the wealthy one. I was most definitely the pauper in our real story. I didn’t care though. I’d never been more proud to call someone mine in my entire life.
After several pages, the caption changed to: But the good news is he was falling for her too.
The following pages were brand-new images I’d never seen before.
And they were stunning. Not because I really looked great, but because they were pictures of us. Real pictures. It started with the selfie of us that had been taken outside the theater before we’d gone to see Fifty Shades of Grey just a few nights earlier, only Sam had transported us to the red carpet at what looked like the premiere, and he’d added a pair of handcuffs dangling off the wrist he had slung over my shoulder.
Ryan burst out laughing, throwing Sam a high five that got left hanging.
The next page read: And falling…
It was a picture of me sleeping, cuddled up in a ball on Sam’s bed. Only the side of his face was visible as he kissed my nose. My heart began to melt at something so sweet, but a laugh bubbled from my throat as I leaned in close, realizing he had added a trickle of drool coming from my mouth and a wet spot on my pillow.
My hand immediately snaked up and tweaked his nipple. I figured mine were safe since his mother was sitting beside me. But Sam didn’t hesitate before reaching down to pinch mine as well.
“Sam!” His mom swatted his arm, but he just shrugged, completely unfazed.
Laughing, I turned to the last page in the book, only to freeze when I took in the image in front of me. My heart began to race, and frenzied butterflies stampeded in my stomach.
I wasn’t in the last picture at all. It was just a picture of Sam in those same filthy clothes from the beginning, and he was standing in a jewelry store, handing over Sampson’s leash and a crate full of chickens in exchange for a huge diamond engagement ring.
His mom gasped.
But I had absolutely no air in my lungs. Was he proposing? It was way, way too soon, but the word yes wasn’t even teetering on the tip of my tongue. It was in the starting block, ready to fire from my lips the moment I opened my mouth.
The caption read: And, eventually, that pauper sold all of his meager possessions just to be able to afford to keep that princess forever.
As I slowly tipped my head up to look at him, another traitorous tear escaped my eye, giving Sam my answer to his unspoken question.
Smiling warmly, he lifted his thumb to my cheek, wiping the damp trail away before pressing it to my lips. Whispering, he said, “That’s what I thought. But I just wanted to check. Turn the page, Levee.”
I didn’t want to turn the page at all.
But, at the same time, I’d never in my life wanted something more.
I was terrified that he was just being rash. We had so much going on. So much more to overcome. He didn’t even know what it was like to really be with me. So far, we’d been living in a perfect little bubble of solitude. What if Sam didn’t like life in the limelight? What if he couldn’t trust me when the tabloids attempted to ruin us with rumors? We needed more time.
It’s too soon.
I was unquestionably going to say yes though.
And, for as long
as I lived, I would never regret that yes.
I knew, from the depths of my soul, that Sam was the rest of my life. Everything else would fall into place.
We’d fall up together.
So, sucking in a deep breath, I turned the page.
Then I burst into full-on tears.
Jumping to my feet, I threw my arms around Sam’s neck as he held me tight against his body.
There was no proposal.
But there was definitely a promise.
And, in that moment, it was better than any ring he could have put on my finger.
There was no picture. It was only a white page with the words: To be continued. (In thirty days.)
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Henry deadpanned.
I was still holding Sam impossibly tight when Meg’s hand slapped his shoulder as she said, “That was mean!”
It wasn’t mean.
It was us.
And, more than that, it added a whole other gear to my drive to get myself together over the next month.
It was the best gift he could have ever given me.
“I love you so much,” I murmured into his neck.
He chuckled. “I can tell.”
“Thank you for not proposing.”
He laughed a little louder. “You’re welcome, Levee.”
“Please don’t sell Sampson to buy me a ring. And, just so you know, I’m not sure I’d marry you without the cock. So please keep that too.”
“Noted.” He squeezed me hard before releasing his grip.
I stepped away, suddenly aware of our audience and my makeup probably sliding down my face. “So, who wants to eat?”
“Me!” Morgan yelled.
After picking up my new prized possession off the table, I snagged her hand. “Let’s go, pretty girl.”
As we walked away I could hear Sam’s mom scolding him for the non-proposal.
He just laughed. “Stop, Ma. She loved it.”
I really, really did.
* * *
The party was winding down, and Morgan had just finished blowing out the candles on her makeshift birthday cake. Henry and I were huddled around her, taking pictures so she could show her friends, when there was an angry knock at the front door. Initially, I assumed it was someone else Sam had invited, since they’d clearly gotten through the security gate, but the moment it swung open, I realized I should have made changing my codes and keys a priority.