by Sarina Bowen
“I get it.” She pauses for so long I wonder if she’s going to speak at all. But then she does, and the change of topic surprises me. “Did Kara apologize when I left you alone at the hospital?”
“Yeah, she did. She said I was right about her wanting out of the marriage. But that she’d never imagined herself getting a divorce.”
“So she made it your fault.”
I swipe a hand over my forehead, wondering why she took the discussion in this direction. “Yeah, honey. But it’s okay. I’m in a good place.”
“So good that you want two to three more kids,” Hailey muses.
I nod, and search her gorgeous blue eyes. “Are you ducking this conversation? I thought you said you and Jackson were planning on having children eventually.”
“We were.” She slides closer and rests her head against my shoulder. Her silky hair brushes my bare skin, sending a shiver up my spine.
“Do you still want that?”
“With Jackson? No. We’re divorced.”
I reach over and tug on a strand of hair. “Smartass. You know what I meant.”
She flashes a sassy smile before her expression grows serious. “Yes, I still want it.” Her voice is soft and breathy. “But you’re awfully close to suggesting we’ll be doing that together.”
“And that freaks you out?”
She blinks. “No, that makes me ridiculously happy. I just need to know if you’re joking or not.”
I grab her by the hips and pull her naked body onto mine. “Not joking, hottie. If it’s something you can handle, I want a family with you.”
She takes a deep breath, and it comes out shaky. “Two or three kids sounds pretty wonderful to me, Matt.”
I can’t explain the pure joy that floods my chest. Or the instant hard-on her words produce. I guess the idea of knocking her up turns me on. Hell, everything about this woman turns me on.
My mouth is on hers before she can say another word. She squeaks in surprise, but my hottie knows how to rally—within seconds, her tongue is eagerly slicking over mine as if she wants to lick every inch of my mouth. The kiss is sizzling hot and groan-inducing and a few minutes later I’m rolling her over, my body covering hers while my hand slides between her legs.
“Matt,” she gasps when I slide two fingers inside her.
“You like that?”
She arches against my probing fingers. “Yes.”
Christ, I love her responsiveness. And my dick throbs to convey its jealousy that my fingers are getting all the action. I quickly amend the situation by lifting her knee and thrusting deep.
We both moan happily the moment I sink home. I love being inside this woman. I love fucking her and I love kissing her and I—
“Love you,” I choke out.
Hailey stills for one moment, her fingernails digging into my back. “You what?” she says breathlessly.
“Love you,” I repeat. “I love you, Hailey Taylor.” I leave out the Emery, because she’s not married to Jackson anymore. She’s Hailey Taylor, and she’s all fucking mine.
“I…” Her breathing sounds shallow to my ears. The hammering of her heart against my chest matches the same frantic tempo of mine. “I love you, too.”
Twenty-Six
Epilogue: Return to the Death Needle
Matt
July, Five Months Later
“You look amazing,” I tell Hailey as she steps out of the bathroom wearing a sleek green dress. It’s our bathroom now. She moved into my apartment last month when her lease was up.
“Thank you!” She smiles at me. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
I smooth down the lapels of the jacket I’m wearing. It’s a summer-weight blazer, and I’m not wearing a tie. But since I’m taking my girl out for a birthday dinner, and she always looks fabulous, I need to represent. I’m feeling a little fidgety about the dinner destination I chose. But, hey, it’s a special occasion.
She grabs her bag and sashays past me toward the door. And I groan right on cue. It’s a backless dress and she knows that makes me crazy. All evening I’ll be catching glimpses of her ivy tattoo, and thinking dirty thoughts about peeling the dress off to see the rest of it.
“Come on, big guy. You can lick the tattoo later,” she says, reading my mind.
I catch up to her at the door to our apartment. Rufus whines, but I just walked him fifteen minutes ago. “Sorry, pal. You’re not invited.” I grab the shopping bag from under the coat tree Hailey bought. There are more pictures on the walls now, too. A few. And one or two new rugs. My apartment looks homier than it used to, but I can’t quite give credit to the things Hailey brought when she moved in.
It’s her, really. Not our belongings.
Following her out the door, I step into the elevator she’s holding for me.
“Where are we going, anyway?” she asks. “You wouldn’t say before.”
“360 at the CN tower.”
She laughs. “Very funny.”
“No,” I say quietly. “That’s really where we’re going.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s a really strange choice, Matt. You hate heights.”
“I know. And it’s kind of a tourist trap. But I just had the urge to take you there. Is it okay?”
“Of course. I’d love to go there with you.” She beams. “It’s your funeral.”
“That’s not funny,” I grumble and she laughs.
Ninety minutes later, our plates are cleared, leaving us to sip the exquisite wine I chose as we admire the sunset over Lake Ontario. “How about this view?” I say with forced nonchalance.
“It’s perfection,” she says, trapping my foot between hers. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Perfectly,” I say. “As long as I don’t look down at the street.”
“That’s the point of coming here, though.” She gives me a soft smile.
“No, see, as long as I look out toward the horizon, it’s okay. Only straight down bothers me. When the cars look like little ants…” I shake my head, trying to clear the image. “That part isn’t easy for me. But if I take the long view—” I point at the pink sky in the distance. “—it’s gorgeous. And that’s what you help me do.”
“What?”
I meet her clear gaze. “Take the long view. I was really stuck last year worrying about my troubles. I forgot for a little while what happiness looks like. But you’re good at reminding me.”
“Thank you.” Hailey blinks. “But I’m pretty sure we do the same thing for each other.”
I’m pretty sure she’s right. “All right. It’s time to move on to the gift-giving portion of this birthday dinner.”
Hailey looks over her shoulder, scanning the room. “You didn’t ask the waitstaff to sing to me, did you? Should I be worried?”
“No!” That would have been a fun idea. Next year, then. “But I have presents.” My stomach does another dip and roll. I’m terrified, but this time it’s not because of the heights. Reaching into the shopping bag, I pull out two beautifully wrapped boxes, each one about eight inches long. Jenny at Fetch helped me with this project. I owe her big.
“Okay, these look identical. But this one is heavy…” I point at a box. “And this one is light. Which do you want to open first?” I meet Hailey’s eyes, hoping she can’t tell I’m nervous.
“Hmm!” Her eyes dance. “This one.” She reaches for the lightweight box.
I quickly cover her hand with mine. “Nope, sorry. Open the heavy one first.”
Hailey laughs. “You asked! Okay, fine.” She slides the heavy box toward herself and pulls the ribbon. I smile as she lifts the top off to reveal…
“Omigod!” she squeaks, lifting the long-lost trophy from the box. “I thought this was lost forever!” She sets it on the table, stunned. “How did you find this! I called the cab company. They were so unhelpful…”
“Yeah,” I admit with a sigh. “They were. Jenny tried again. She spent hours on it. But then I just called up the Toronto Women�
�s Business Association and asked if we could order you a new one. I sweet-talked them into it.”
“That was so nice of you.” Joy shines in her eyes. “It can go on my new desk.”
“Exactly.” Hailey is getting Jackson’s office when he opens the Rosedale branch in November. She and Jackson timed their expansion to happen during the hockey season, so that she and I could spend a lot of the summer together before her life gets crazier during the opening. And Jenny is getting Hailey’s office, along with a promotion to location manager. Jenny reminds me of this all the time, because she knows it makes me roll my eyes.
“By ‘sweet talk,’ I assume you had to donate to the foundation,” Hailey guesses, laughing.
“Some money may have changed hands, yes.”
She gets up and moves around our table to sit beside me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Thank you, honey. That was a really thoughtful thing to do. I don’t need the trophy, but…”
“It’s kind of cool to have it,” I finish.
“It sure is.”
“This, uh, might be cool to have, too.” I scoot the other box toward her.
“Hmm…” She lifts it and gives it a little shake. There’s no sound at all. She tugs on the ribbon, and it releases into another heap of satin on the table. Hailey opens the box to find a rather sizable roll of tissue paper. She starts unwinding it to get to the gift at the center.
I stop breathing.
It’s easy to tell when she spots the little satin pouch with the jeweler’s insignia on it, because her whole body goes still. She picks it up with shaking fingers and widens the mouth of the tiny bag, sliding the diamond ring into her palm.
“Oh, honey,” she says in a hushed tone.
“Do you like it? I mean…” I clear my throat. “Can we get married? Will you be my wife?”
When she turns to me, it’s with tears in her eyes. “Any day of the week,” she declares.
“Yeah?” I crush her to me. “That is the best news ever. It’s almost worth spinning around up here in the death needle.”
She giggles into my shirt collar.
“I mean, restaurants aren’t supposed to revolve.” I’m babbling now, but I’m so happy I might not be able to stop.
“The ring is beautiful,” she says, and I pull back to see it sitting in the center of her palm. She’s staring at it with wonder on her sweet face. “I can hardly believe this is real."
“Oh, it’s real. And if you try it on, then you have to marry me.”
She smiles down at the ring, then slowly slips it onto her finger. “What kind of wedding do you want to have?” She searches my gaze. “I don’t need it to be a big, fussy affair. For a second wedding that seems a little weird.”
“It’s not weird to celebrate when you’re finally getting something right,” I say.
“That’s a good point.”
“But we can still throw whatever kind of party you want.” I pull her in for a kiss. And then a second kiss. And one more just for luck. “Hottie?” I smile against her lips.
“Mmh?”
“I don’t even have to change your nickname.”
“What?”
“You’ll still be HTE after we’re married. I have an E, too.”
She giggles. “It was meant to be!”
It was, too. And I kiss her again just to tell her I agree.
* * *
The End
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Copyright © 2017 by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy
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