She chewed the inside of her cheek, not wanting to answer. “I’ve been busy.”
“I rest my case. You’re too young to be locked up at the inn. You need to cut loose.”
She didn’t get to protest because they’d stopped in front of Harper’s apartment.
Her sister jumped in the car with a scowl on her face. “We’re not staying out too late, right?” she asked.
Mia groaned. “You both are hopeless.”
“We’re in for a long night,” Ophelia told her sister. “Mia wants to go to Joe’s.”
“It’s a college bar! They do beer funnels!”
Mia laughed with a touch of evil. “Even better than I imagined. Get ready, ladies. Harper, why are you wearing jeans?”
“These are my best pair. Dark wash. They make my butt look good.”
Mia studied her critically from the mirror, then nodded. “Yeah, you do have a great ass. But you’re losing that baggy jacket. You look amazing in the camisole, and we don’t want to hide it.”
Ophelia giggled. “She’s trying to get us both laid, Harp.”
“Hmm, doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”
They all laughed. A few minutes later, they were pulling up in front of Lemongrass.
“Let’s do this, ladies,” Mia announced with a smile and a wink. Then she led them inside, and Ophelia already knew it was going to be a great night.
He carried her over the threshold, barely managing not to crash her into the narrow doorframe, and she giggled against his chest, the white veil scratching his cheek. He kicked the door behind him closed—just like in the movies—and whirled her around so her satin skirt billowed out around them.
“You’re my wife,” he stated. Satisfaction and a raw tenderness coursed through him as he gazed at her beautiful face. “We did it.”
“We did it,” she whispered, stroking his clean-shaven jaw. “I can’t believe we got married by Elvis.”
He groaned and set her gently on her feet. “Baby, I told you we didn’t have to go to that chapel.”
“I loved it.” She slid her hands around his shoulders and kissed him, her lips soft and tasting better than cotton candy. “I loved every tacky, gorgeous moment. Our song is ‘A Little Less Conversation.’”
He laughed, tugging off her veil and running his fingers through her hair. “At least we’ll never be predictable. I knew you’d never pick ‘Love Me Tender.’”
She scrunched up her nose in an adorable face. “Everyone chooses the slow, mushy songs. I wanted something different for us.”
He gazed at her for a long time. Her dress was a simple flow of elegance in white satin. Pearls encrusted the low neckline, and the fabric hugged her figure, pooling into a small train behind as she walked. “You’re beautiful, Ophelia. When I look at you, everything hurts. I’ve wanted this for so long, I’m almost afraid to touch you.”
She smiled up at him. “If you don’t touch me, it’ll hurt more.” She tugged his head down, arching up to meet him. “I want you to touch me, Kyle. Everywhere. I want everything.”
He groaned, picking her up again and carrying her to the bed. Their one-bedroom studio was cramped. They were able to afford a full-size mattress, a couch, a TV, a lamp, and a desk for his laptop. There was one closet. Their pots and pans and mugs came from flea markets and garage sales.
They’d spent the last month finding a place to live, getting menial jobs to pay the rent. She’d scored a secondhand bridal dress from Craigslist. He’d rented a suit and financed the quarter-carat diamond ring on a brand new credit card that some crazy bank had mistakenly offered him. They’d feasted on a full-course breakfast at the local diner she had scored a part-time job at, changed into their bridal clothes, and made the drive to Vegas. For only $299, they’d gotten married at The Little Vegas Chapel, reciting their vows for Elvis with no family in attendance and a small bouquet of red roses gripped in her hand.
It was the happiest day of his life.
He undressed her slowly, his gaze devouring her nakedness, a raw hunger in his gut from the endless months of kissing and touching and foreplay. He stroked her naked skin with shaking fingers and a reverence he swore he’d feel for a lifetime. His lips pressed against her neck, then moved down to her breasts, her hips. They slipped lower to kiss between her thighs, and he held her open as she cried and begged. He kissed her while she crashed into an orgasm with open abandonment and couldn’t wait until he could do it again . . . and again . . .
He rolled on a condom and kissed his way back up her body, sucking on a nipple before diving his tongue deep into her mouth. He moved between her thighs, pushing with a steady rhythm while she clung hard to him.
He went slow, praying he wouldn’t hurt her, easing into her tightness until her body relaxed beneath him. He whispered her name like a prayer and moved in and out, filling her, claiming her, his fingers slipping down to rub her clit with gentle, tender touches until she shattered beneath him. He swallowed her cries and let himself go, his body shuddering helplessly, clinging to her just as fiercely.
He looked deep into her eyes as he came. He studied her beloved face, memorizing every angle and curve, and then he tucked her against him and held her, telling her over and over that he loved her. That he’d love her forever . . .
He had to get the hell out of here.
Kyle looked down at himself. After the disastrous episode with Ophelia yesterday, he’d focused on getting through the next chapter, but he’d fallen into the hole. The hole was wonderful for creativity.
It was not so wonderful for hygiene.
Blinking as if he’d just emerged from a dark cave for months, he stared at the mud of leftover coffee by his elbow. Crumbs from a granola bar littered his lap. The seltzer next to the coffee had long ago gone flat. Then he realized he was still in his clothes from yesterday and that taking a morning shower had slipped past his consciousness. His mouth felt like a big old fuzzpot.
What time was it?
Hell, what day was it?
He peered at his watch and groaned. Seven p.m.
He needed out of this room.
Grabbing his phone, he punched out a text to Ethan.
Wanna grab a beer and some dinner?
He figured his friend would decline going out on a Saturday night when he had a live-in lover, but the three dots suddenly popped up with a GIF of Will Ferrell guzzling beer.
Hell yes. Half hour?
He sent a thumbs-up emoji and grinned. He hadn’t been out with just Ethan in a long time, and he was looking forward to hitting their favorite bars in town.
He brushed his teeth, showered, and changed in record time, keeping it simple with jeans, a dark purple Stone Rose shirt, and low black boots. He jumped in the rental and beeped after he pulled up in front of the bungalow. Through the front window, he spotted Ethan trying to back out from the menagerie of dogs and the mean chicken, finally managing to shut the door.
Ethan slid into the front seat.
Kyle lifted a brow. “So how’s domesticated life?”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed and drove to their favorite Irish pub. They packed themselves into a boisterous drinking crowd currently watching the Syracuse basketball game. Shoved into a table by the bar, they ordered two IPAs and relaxed into the stools.
Kyle munched on peanuts and threw shells on the floor. “Where’s Mia?”
Ethan shrugged. “Girls’ night out with Ophelia and Harper.”
She was on the town with her girls. Kyle remembered them partying together in their youth. That woman had such pure Irish blood, she’d been able to match his and Ethan’s pace at any drinking game. He’d always been so damn proud of that ability.
“You know what they were doing?”
“Not sure. Dinner. Movies. Maybe one of those paint-and-sip things that are popular. Girl stuff.”
His lip quirked. She was probably drinking wine, eating sushi, and sitting in some bar at a fancy restaurant with a bunch of uptight suits.
The waitress glided over, and they ordered burgers and another round of beers.
“How’s the writing going, man?”
He snorted. “Let’s just say you’re lucky that I showered.”
“That means it’s good, right?”
“Yeah. It’s a sad career when productivity means being fat and unclean.”
“You think coming back home made a difference, then?”
“Definitely. I needed a change of scenery. Plus, even though you’re a pain in the ass—I missed you.”
“Back atcha. What about Ophelia? You two are getting along better now, right? She finally forgive you for whatever fuck-up you did in California?”
Guilt hit him. He tried to keep his answer casual. “Yeah, we’re good now.”
Ethan nodded. “When I first heard you guys had run off to California while I was deep in basic training, I freaked. I worried about Tink. Worried Hollywood would eat her up and spit her out. But knowing she was with you helped. Even though you had a big fight and she ended up coming home, I knew you’d taken care of her out there. Made sure she wasn’t hurt. I never thanked you for that, man.”
Kyle’s gut roiled. His friend’s heartfelt words filled him with stinging shame. Kyle took a swig of beer and wondered if he could tell Ethan the whole damn thing.
It’d be such a relief to talk to him and get his advice. To spill his guts and admit his feelings for Ophelia, and how badly he wanted to reconcile. To confess how he’d fucked it all up and ended up hurting her anyway.
He ached to spill his soul. Though he knew tons of people in Hollywood, no one knew the real him. He’d never been able to make a true bond with someone he’d trust with his hidden secrets. Sure, he was popular on the party circuit, with plenty of people to keep him occupied and entertained. But inside, he was lonely.
Still, Ethan might lose his shit if he found out he and Ophelia were married. He may feel betrayed and blame Kyle, and then he’d lose his best friend.
No, he had to keep his mouth shut—at least until he convinced Ophelia to give him a second chance. Then they could tell Ethan together.
“No worries.” He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. “Hey, remember when we used to party at Joe’s? You used to get so drunk and pick fights with bigger guys.”
“I had mad fighting skills. It was the only time I got to use them.”
Kyle laughed. “Except that time with the Asian guy who kicked your ass and was half your height.”
“Fuck you. I remember when you couldn’t finish a beer funnel, threw up, and passed out under the bar. We couldn’t even find you. You were sleeping in the shit that night.”
“Oh yeah! How about when you did those body shots with the blonde, and her boyfriend showed up?”
Ethan snapped his fingers. “Yes! He followed me out to the car where I was making out with her and—”
“Threatened you with a shotgun! Thank God I kept an eye on you.”
“Dude, you tackled him. We ran out into the woods—”
“With your bare-naked ass on display.” Kyle tipped his beer back and sighed with sheer joy. “Fucking good times, man.”
“The best.”
Their burgers came and they dug in, talking about their greatest hits.
Yeah. It was going to be a great night.
“Drink, drink, drink, drink—YES!”
The guys bellowed and thumped her back as she finished guzzling. Mia and Harper stared at her with matching worried gazes.
She stepped back. Fought the slight nausea. Then let out a long burp.
Another roar echoed in the air, and she gave the crowd a thumbs-up signal. Mia and Harper gave a whoop and stuck out their palms, collecting on the bet wagered by a bunch of frat boys who’d challenged Ophelia to drink from the funnel without vomiting.
Head spinning a tad, she managed to extricate herself from her new friends, who were now pounding down shots. She headed over to their coveted small table at the end of the bar.
“Fifty bucks!” Mia said, shaking the cash in her hand. “Not bad, especially since the drinks have been free all night.”
Harper hooked her boot heels on the rung of the stool. “That was impressive. I had no idea you still had mad drinking skills.”
Ophelia hiccupped. Then giggled. “Been a long time, so I’m glad I didn’t embarrass myself. Did you see the cute blond checking you out, Harp?”
“Oh yeah! He was into you,” Mia said. “Why don’t you go talk to him?”
Harper snorted. “’Cause he’s barely drinking age, and I’m not a cougar.”
“Bet he’d know how to make you roar, though,” Mia quipped.
Ophelia laughed. “Oh my God, that’s as bad as Ethan and Kyle together. What is it about men? Why does their intelligence factor drop when they’re hanging with friends? I never got it.”
“I never understood men at all,” Harper grumbled, taking a swig of her beer.
“You dating anyone?” Mia asked, propping her hand under her chin and regarding Harper. “You’ve got that mysterious quality men go crazy over. Plus, you’re hot.”
“I’m not hot.”
Mia gasped. “Yes you are! Holy crap, with your dark hair, green eyes, and lean figure? Add in the way you connect to animals and can banter like a badass—you are a catch.”
Harper scoffed and rolled her eyes. Ophelia still couldn’t understand why her sister lacked confidence when it came to male attention. She was so sure in all aspects of her life except her sexuality.
Ophelia slid her hand across the table and squeezed her sister’s. “Mia’s right. I know you’re happy with your life, but you should give dating a chance. You may find love.”
“I don’t know if I believe in love,” Harper said. “The few dates I’ve gone on made me feel lonelier than I did home alone. Does that make sense?”
Mia nodded. “Totally. That’s why I stopped dating, too—before I met your brother. And of course, because I got cheated on.”
Ophelia winced and grabbed her water to try and hydrate. “Assholes weren’t worthy of you.”
“Ethan told me the same thing.”
“He’s right. I’m just so glad you both found each other. I’ve never seen him so happy,” Ophelia said.
Mia smiled. “I feel the same way. So are you and Kyle doing it?”
Ophelia choked and slammed the glass back on the table. “What did you ask?”
“You heard me. What’s going on?”
Harper cracked up, practically wiping her eyes in mirth. “Damn, that was good. I’m glad Mia asked, because I’ve been dying to all evening. I heard he took you to dinner at Crystal’s. Maureen said you were looking quite chummy. Are you hooking up again?”
Crap. She had no idea anyone even suspected she still wanted to jump into bed with her ex. Of course, it was pretty hard to keep secrets in this town, and she should’ve known these two females were too savvy to be fooled.
She frowned, trying to figure out what to say. She’d kept the real story from Harper during their talk in the barn, but the growing need to talk to someone she trusted shook within.
Her feelings for Kyle confused her, and she desperately needed an outlet. Harper and Mia were family.
This time, she didn’t try to hold back when the words loosened and flew out of her mouth.
“If I tell you a secret, do you swear not to tell Ethan?”
Mia bit her lip. “Is it a female pact thing? I can’t lie to him.”
“I’m not asking you to lie . . . just don’t say anything.”
“I can do that,” Mia said. Harper agreed.
Ophelia filled her lungs with air and then let it out. “We got married when we ran off to California together.”
“What?” they shouted together. A group to their right shot them a look, and Ophelia leaned in, lowering her voice.
“Yes. We were young and in love, so we eloped, thinking we could do and be anything we wanted to as long as we were togeth
er. But after a year and a half, the innocence wore off. We had a huge falling-out, and I came home.”
“Holy shit,” Harper breathed out. “I didn’t see that one coming. Sex, yes. Marriage, no. Why didn’t you tell us?”
Guilt hit her. “At first it was like this big, delicious secret—straight out of a romance movie. And I didn’t want anyone to talk me out of it by saying we were too young, or to wait longer, or that it wasn’t smart. I just wanted to marry the man I loved with no one holding us back. Does that make sense?”
Harper nodded. “Yeah, but how come you didn’t tell me later?”
“It became easier keeping it a secret, especially when we decided to divorce. I wanted to move on with my life.”
“So you’ve been divorced for all this time. I get it,” Mia said. “No wonder you didn’t want him staying with you.”
“There’s more,” she said. Her heart pounded, but the beer funnel helped lower her protective walls. “The divorce never went through. Our lawyer was a scam artist . . . so we’re still legally married.”
Mia’s mouth fell open. Harper stared in shock.
Relief loosened her muscles. Finally, she had shared her secret. She felt like a new person.
“I gotta pee,” she announced.
“No!” Mia shouted. “We need more info. I have a billion questions.”
“Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.”
She waited in a long line for the ladies’ bathroom while glaring at the nonexistent queue for the men’s room, then shuffled crookedly back to the table, trying hard not to stumble. She’d just reached her seat when some of her favorite, iconic music blasted over the speakers and cries of excitement shot in the air.
“‘Living on a Prayer’!” she shouted. “Oh my God, I love Bon Jovi. Let’s go dance!”
“Now? We need the rest of the story,” Mia demanded.
Ophelia grabbed their hands and dragged them onto the overcrowded dance floor. “Not now—it’s time to boogie!”
Harper groaned. “You’re so trashed.”
Mia laughed. “She is, but dancing will help. We still have one more stop before our evening is over, so we’ll have time to get the details out of her later. Let’s go.”
A Brand New Ending (Stay Book 2) Page 15