Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5)

by Jessica Hawkins

  Occasionally, I fly out to see my old friends in L.A. But more often than not, Jen comes here to visit her godson. Fox, Bear, and Crow also have a habit of dropping in now and then and also claim godparent status. The original Henry prefers to Skype once a month or so from his bunker. He was delighted at our choice of name and gifted our son a rocket launcher, which my child shall never receive if I have any say about it.

  I like to think our baby boy will grow up to be an accountant or a lawyer or a dermatologist. Something safe and far from explosives. But we’ll see. People can only be themselves. And after everything we’ve been through, I know I’m my best self with Thom and he’s his best self with me. Life is good.

  The end.

  Also By Kylie Scott

  The Rich Boy

  Repeat

  It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

  Trust

  THE DIVE BAR SERIES

  Dirty

  Twist

  Chaser

  THE STAGE DIVE SERIES

  Lick

  Play

  Lead

  Deep

  Strong: A Stage Dive Novella

  Closer: A Stage Dive Novella

  THE FLESH SERIES

  Flesh

  Skin

  Flesh Series Novellas

  Heart’s a Mess

  Colonist’s Wife

  Connect with Kylie

  Find Kylie at:

  www.kyliescott.com

  Facebook

  Twitter

  Instagram

  Pinterest

  BookBub

  To learn about exclusive content, my upcoming releases and giveaways, join Kylie’s newsletter

  Before You

  By Marni Mann

  For you, Dad, and to food. Because it’s our thing.

  Playlist

  “Daddy Lessons”—Beyoncé

  “Drinkin’ Too Much”—Sam Hunt

  “Nightmare”—Halsey

  “Seven Devils”—Florence + The Machine

  “Let Me Down Slowly”—Alec Benjamin

  “Graves”—Echos

  “Broken”—Lund

  “The Half”—Ruben

  “Wild Enough”—Elina

  “My Blood”—Echos

  “6 Inch”—Beyoncé, Featuring The Weeknd

  Prologue

  Portland, Maine

  Spring 1989

  “Do you think Casey will be at school today?” Brandon asked his girlfriend as he pulled into the third row of the student lot, parking on the end.

  As juniors, the three of them had two weeks left before summer break. This time next year, they would be graduating like the seniors had yesterday. Once they received their diplomas, Brandon and his girlfriend would pack a suitcase and move to California, a plan they’d hatched their freshman year when they started dating.

  “No,” she replied, staring out the windshield, shaking her head. “I have a feeling we’re never going to see Casey again.”

  When Brandon had heard about what had happened to their best friend the night of the party, he had been in his room with his girl, sleeping. Had it been any other morning, Brandon’s mother would have been furious to find him in bed with her. She wasn’t allowed to stay the night. But that morning, Brandon’s mother didn’t yell, nor did she mention it when she shook her son awake. In a quiet, calm voice, she told them everything she had heard about Casey.

  The two women immediately started to cry.

  Not Brandon. He rose from his bed and paced the small space between his nightstand and closet, trying to process the news. When his mother wasn’t able to answer any of the questions he’d asked, he rushed downstairs to the phone in the kitchen and called Casey’s house.

  No one picked up, not even the answering machine.

  Brandon then tried calling one of his friends to see if they had heard anything. And that was how he ended up spending his whole day, reaching out to everyone whose number he had, listening to their version of the story.

  One thing they all agreed on: no one had heard from Casey since the party.

  After nightfall, Brandon and his girl drove to Casey’s house. His other friends had already done the same, but Brandon was hoping their outcome would be different. Except, when they got there, there weren’t any lights on inside, the front door was locked, and no one responded to the doorbell. They went around back, and Brandon threw a rock at Casey’s window. He’d waited several minutes, tossing more rocks, before it was time for them to leave.

  “You really think …” Brandon started to reply, his voice drifting off as he considered the possibility of never hanging out with their best friend again. When it all really hit him, he gripped the steering wheel and shouted, “Fuck!”

  “It could have happened to any of us … you know that,” she said softly.

  They had all been at the party that night. It was held in the same field every year, the Friday before graduation. Everyone went—high schoolers, alumni, friends from surrounding towns. It was tradition. And in all the years, there had never been an incident.

  Until now.

  Brandon reached across the front seat and squeezed her hand, really feeling the weight of it all. “Thank God it didn’t happen to us.”

  Some stories had the power to change lives forever.

  This story changed an entire town.

  Billie

  “What I would have given to put my lips around that rack of lamb,” Ally said through the speaker of my phone.

  I laughed at my best friend’s response to the picture I’d posted this morning. Her appreciation of food had grown over the years because of me. The girl I’d met all those years ago didn’t know jelly came in flavors other than grape.

  “It was succulent,” I told her, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath as though the plate were still in front of me. “The whole meal was beyond words.” When I opened my lids again, I put the last packing cube into my suitcase and zipped it shut. “I convinced the chef to give me the recipe for his brussels sprouts. I’m going to make them for our next girls’ night.”

  “Which is when?”

  I pressed the screen of my phone as it sat on a shoe shelf, scrolling through my schedule. “How’s the eighteenth?”

  “That’s two weeks away, Billie.”

  I checked again, trying to see if I could move anything around. “You know I’d make it sooner if I could.”

  “I know, babe. Put us in for the eighteenth. I’ll text the girls once we get off the phone to let them know.”

  Ally and I had been roommates all four years at NYU and for another five after we graduated. Then, at twenty-seven, we finally got our own apartments. Mine was a loft in Greenwich Village where I’d lived for the last three years. Ally’s was a studio on the Upper West Side, which she shared with her boyfriend. He was now her husband, and I had three plants—all of them herbs.

  I blocked off the whole night and clicked out of the app. “You’re in my calendar.”

  “So, where are you headed to now, Miss Wanderlust?”

  “San Francisco, and it’s Italian,” I said, referring to the restaurant I would be reviewing, as I walked into the kitchen.

  In college, whenever I had eaten out, I would take pictures and rate the food, posting it on social media. It was a passion that had slowly morphed into a career, and now, I was a full-time food vlogger. I was hired by restaurants all over the country to eat and review their cuisine, sharing it with my followers that was nearing toward ten million.

  “One of your favorites.” There was a crinkle of paper in the background and then the sound of heavy, sticky chewing.

  “What are you eating?”

  “Gooey red fish.”

  I had poured myself a glass of wine and opened the containers of Szechuan pork and sautéed baby bok choy with garlic before I started packing. Now that it had cooled down, I grabbed the chopsticks and gave the food a quick stir.

  “You’re not late … are you?” I as
ked before putting the first bite in my mouth.

  “I just came off birth control two months ago. It can’t happen that fast.”

  But it could, and she knew that.

  And I was pretty sure it had because, “Ally, you’re eating candy.”

  She didn’t have a taste for sweets, not even cake on her birthday.

  “Oh my God.” Each chew sounded like a suction cup. “I didn’t even realize I’d opened the bag, but I’ve been standing in front of the fridge, popping them in my mouth like freaking popcorn.”

  “I know. The entire world can hear you eating.”

  “Sooorry.” She paused. “You really think I’m pregnant? No. I can’t be. I …” The noise intensified, telling me she’d put more in her mouth. “I’m about to eat this entire bag, Billie, and then I’m going to walk to the bodega on the next block and buy another one.”

  I pulled up a delivery app on my phone, added five bags of gooey red fish and three pregnancy tests to my cart, and gave them Ally’s address before I submitted the order.

  “No need,” I said, returning to the chopsticks, using them to take another bite. “There will be some delivered to your apartment in about twenty minutes.”

  “I love you.”

  My swallow ended with a sigh. “It’s for missing your doctor’s appointment that I have a feeling you’ll be going to in the next few days.”

  Robert would be taking her—I was sure of that—but I wanted to be there after to celebrate.

  And I wouldn’t be.

  This was one of the downfalls of my career—missing things at home when work required me to be away so much. But traveling was part of the job, and I loved it just as much.

  There was a balance, and most of the time, I found it.

  “Do you really think we’re having a baby?” she asked softly.

  The emotion in her voice worked its way into my chest. Ally had wanted a baby for as long as I’d known her. It might have happened quickly, but the years it had taken to get here weren’t fast at all.

  I waited until my chest calmed down before I said, “I’m already planning what I’m going to serve at the shower.”

  “I just got hungrier.”

  “I’ll order you more—”

  “Listen to me, Billie Paige. I’m not going to be the girl who gains a hundred pounds with her first pregnancy. Do you hear me?”

  “Okay, okay.” I laughed, tossing the empty containers into the trash and carrying the wine into my bedroom. “Text me the second you know something.”

  “It won’t be until the morning. Robert is working tonight, and I want to wait for him.”

  “Hopefully, the Wi-Fi won’t be spotty on the plane because that’s most likely where I’ll be when you find out.”

  “You won’t need a signal; you’ll hear me scream all the way in the sky.”

  I smiled as I climbed into bed. “I feel bad for the world when you go into labor.”

  “Very funny.” She chewed again, groaning as she swallowed. “Thanks for the candy, asshole.”

  “Love you,” I said and hung up.

  That was our friendship. Like a spicy tuna roll—simple with a kick.

  Jared

  I carried my briefcase and wheeled a small carry-on through the lobby of my building, nodding at the doorman before I went outside.

  My driver had parked the SUV along the curb and was standing next to the backseat, opening the door for me. “Good morning, Mr. Morgan.”

  I gave him both handles, freeing my hands. “Morning, Tony.”

  I climbed into the back, taking the New York Times off the other seat and placing it in my lap. It was crisp and unopened—the way I liked my paper every morning, how Tony always brought it.

  “Your assistant sent your flight information,” he said as he got in the driver’s seat. “I just want to confirm you’re taking a commercial flight out of JFK?”

  I glanced up from above the fold, catching his stare in the rearview.

  He’d been driving me for a long time. Ten years at least.

  If he hadn’t asked, he wouldn’t be doing his job.

  “That’s correct,” I said.

  I turned off the small reading light and looked out my window just as Tony was merging onto the road. Manhattan looked like a cave at this time of the day. Buildings blocked out the moonlight, and the sun hadn’t yet risen in the fall sky.

  It was too early to be awake.

  But if I wasn’t on my way to the airport, I probably wouldn’t be asleep anyway.

  As we turned onto the Belt Parkway, my cell vibrated from the inside pocket of my suit. I reached for it, smiling as I held the phone to my ear.

  “Marcus.” It was still the middle of the night on the West Coast, but I wasn’t surprised my longtime friend wasn’t sleeping.

  “On your way to JFK?”

  I checked the window to my left as Tony switched lanes. “That’s right.”

  “Jared, I feel awful about this, but I’m not going to be able to pick you up at the airport. I’m going to send one of my guys. He’ll be right outside baggage claim. I’ll text you his car and plate—”

  “Don’t worry; my assistant took care of all that.”

  “I feel terrible,” he said. “I’m the whole reason you’re coming out here, and none of this would even be happening if it wasn’t for you.”

  Over the years, I’d watched the different stages of Marcus’s career as he worked his way through the industry, gaining more knowledge and responsibility.

  Now, he was the boss I had known he would be.

  “Nonsense,” I said, meaning it. “Go get some rest. I need you alive for the next few days.”

  He laughed. “See you soon, buddy.”

  I hung up and grabbed the coffee Tony had gotten for me, taking a drink of it while he drove us deeper into Brooklyn. Most mornings, the bitter black brew would have been the perfect addition to the paper as I finished both in the backseat before I boarded my company’s private jet.

  This morning wasn’t like most.

  And what I wished were in this cup was a liquor so smoky and dominant, it would force me to relax, so I wouldn’t think about the real reason I was getting on this plane. The one that had nothing to do with seeing Marcus.

  Nothing in this world was strong enough to take those thoughts away.

  Not even whiskey.

  “Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Morgan?”

  I glanced at the darkened sky, my hand tightening around the hot cup. “You can turn on the radio.”

  “The news channel you usually listen to?”

  My gaze dropped to the sign that said we were twelve miles from the airport. “No, find some rock,” I told him. “And, Tony?” I took a breath. “Play it loud.”

  Honey

  Spring 1984

  The first time Honey heard Andrew’s voice, she saw stars. That was because she was on a bed, being rolled through the emergency room, and the lights above were completely blinding her. But the flashes of light in her vision were also from pain. Every time an intense cramp pounded through her abdomen, her vision would turn spotted and blurry.

  When he joined her, Andrew introduced himself as the attending physician of Maine Medical Center’s emergency department, and he asked her questions the entire trip down the hallway. By the time they got in an exam room, a nurse had placed a cold washcloth over Honey’s face, so she didn’t have to strain to keep her eyes closed.

  “I’m going to touch your stomach,” Andrew said once the wheels of the bed were locked. “You can stay in the position you’re in. I just need you to tell me if it hurts.”

  “It hurts!” Honey shouted the second he put pressure on her right side. She tried to fight through the torture as he moved to her back, but it was too much. “Ow!”

  “Honey, take a deep breath for me.”

  Even though it sounded more like a term of endearment, she didn’t focus on that. While she lay on her side, she kept her face tucked i
nto her knees, her eyes shut, and tried to open her lungs, taking in the air as slow as she could.

  “How about here?” he asked, his fingers returning, now in a lower spot.

  A searing agony tore through her, and her bravery vanished. “Make it stop.” She sucked in a sob. “Please, Doctor. I can’t take it.”

  “I ordered some X-rays, which we’re going to do right now. If it’s appendicitis, which I believe it is, we’ll take you in for surgery.”

  “Surgery?”

  With her roommate being at work, Honey had driven herself to the hospital. Not in all the time she had been sick—during the hours in her apartment before she left for the hospital, during the drive when she pulled over to throw up, when she walked in from the parking lot, doubled over in pain—did she think she would need surgery.

  “We do about fifty a month,” he said. “It’s very common.”

  She had to see his face; his voice wasn’t enough. So, slowly, Honey began to unravel her body and lift her head, the washcloth dropping from her eyes. They weren’t open more than a crack when a wave of nausea passed through her, and she dry-heaved on the bed, immediately covering her face again. “Just fix me.”

  His fingers went to her shoulder. “You’re in good hands.”