by Meghan Quinn
“Can’t Help Falling in Love”—the acoustic version—starts playing, and the room quiets down. The uplighting turns to all pink, and feathers fall from the ceiling, filling the air with so much romance that I actually think they have a shot at winning this entire competition.
Hands clasped to my chest, I watch as Thad places his hand on Naomi’s lower back and guides her back and forth to the slow, melodic beat of the beautiful song, whispering things in her ear that make her laugh. Being in the presence of so much love makes you do weird things, like looking for the man of your dreams, who’s standing across the room, hands in his pockets, looking straight at you.
My heart hammers in my chest.
My mouth becomes completely dry.
But my eyes never leave his.
I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.
“The bride and groom would like to call all couples onto the dance floor to join them,” the DJ says into the microphone.
I feel Cohen’s hand on my back as he brings his mouth to my ear. “Go ask him to dance.”
“I can’t—”
“You can. He loves you. Look at him. He’s so desperate. Put the poor man out of his misery and make the first move.”
“What if he rejects me?”
“Trust me, he won’t.” He gives me a little shove forward before taking Declan’s hand. Together, they walk out on the floor, hand in hand, and join the crowd, dancing together.
I freeze in place for a few beats, watching as Alec stands there, all alone. He looks as handsome as ever, but with a sadness etched in his eyes.
And before I can stop myself, I pick up my long black skirt and shuffle along the dance floor. Couples part for me, stepping aside as I get closer and closer to Alec. His breath catches in his throat, and he licks his lips. When I reach him, I hold my hand out, hoping he doesn’t see that it’s visibly shaking. “May I have this dance?”
He looks down at my extended hand, and then back up at me.
Nerves build and swirl inside me as I wait for his answer.
One beat.
Two.
Three.
And then, without saying a word, he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers and guiding me out to the dance floor. He spins me before bringing me in close.
Really close.
His hand spans my lower back as my hand falls to his chest and glides up to the back of his neck, just as our eyes connect.
His eyes read like a picture book, showing every emotion within him.
Relief.
Excitement.
Love . . .
I hope he can see the same within me, because I’m about to burst—just from having him this close again, his eyes searching mine, his lips wet and waiting.
He sighs. And he tips his forehead against mine, like so many times before. “I love you.”
My lip trembles, those three words cutting me hard and deep all at once, and I can’t contain the sigh of happiness that pops out of me.
“I love you, Alec . . . so much.”
“Hell,” he says, nuzzling his head against mine. “Jesus, I needed to hear that. Badly.” He lifts his head up just enough so I can look him in the eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, Luna. For asking you to lie to Cohen, for—”
I stop him with my fingers to his lips and then bring them back to the nape of his neck. “I know. But you need to know something. When I said I chose wrong, I didn’t mean it. I was angry and upset and I lashed out at you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry.” I grip him even tighter. “Coming to your apartment to help you bake a cake was the best choice I ever made, because it opened my heart to a confusing, beautiful, knucklehead of a man. I love you, with everything in me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“Luna Moon, you don’t need to ask for my forgiveness, because you have it. I just want to know if I can take you home tonight. Make you mine again.”
“I never stopped being yours,” I say, standing on my toes and pressing my mouth to his.
He hums against my lips and then parts his mouth, closing the space between us and delivering one of the most sensual and loving kisses I’ve ever experienced.
He pulls away, and from the corner of my eye, I spot Thad and Naomi, and Declan and Cohen, still dancing, but smiling ear to ear as they watch us make up.
“Are you back together?” Naomi asks, raising her voice over the music.
Alec brings his mouth to the back of my hand and kisses it. “We’re back together.”
They all cheer, and Alec picks me up and swings me around. Setting me back on my feet, he cups my cheeks and lights me up all over again.
I sigh into his hold and relish the knowledge that The Wedding Game wasn’t just a challenge to create the best ceremony and reception. It was a challenge for my heart, opening it up to someone else and filling it with love.
At least I know one couple who won this season on The Wedding Game, and we didn’t need a wedding to prove it.
EPILOGUE
ALEC
“Have I told you I really like this dress on you?” I murmur into Luna’s ear, my arm wrapped around her waist.
“About three separate times,” she says with a chuckle, moving her head to the side so I can kiss her neck. “But I’ll never turn down a compliment from you.”
“Are you flirting with me?” My lips press against the spot right below her ear, and she turns in my arms so she’s facing me.
“Always. I’m always flirting with you.”
I smile widely and gaze into her eyes, feeling like a goddamn king right about now. “Are you really going to move in with me?” I still can’t quite believe she said yes to my proposition last night.
“How could I not? You built me a craft room.” Yeah, I may have set up my second bedroom as a craft room for her. In my mind, we won’t stay in the apartment longer than a few years. I have plans for a family with this girl, and we’re going to need a bigger place for that, but what we have for now will work. “I still can’t believe you did that. I don’t think I’ve ever humped someone as hard as I humped you last night.”
I laugh out loud, pulling the attention from everyone around us. I cup her cheek and quietly say, “The humping was very much appreciated, and feel free to do it whenever you want.”
“I will.” She rises up on her toes and kisses me lightly before spinning around in my arms. Just then Diane walks on set, which is a cube of a room, decorated with flowers and sectioned off in threes. Behind each team is a small replica of their wedding, pulled together by PAs. Just seeing them all together makes me laugh, especially with our incredibly flamboyant feathered theme against the two more neutral ones.
She spots us and, with her fingers, motions for us to break up. “Team Rossi, Team Baxter, get in your respective spots.”
After Thad and Naomi’s wedding, Diane asked if The Wedding Game could do some web content about our relationship, since it developed on the show. We of course said yes, because it would be great exposure for Luna—and it has been. Not only has her partnership with Marco been going better than she ever imagined—launch date next year—but collaboration requests from other wedding companies have begun to pour in, and she’s been offered a DIY column in the top bridal magazine, aptly called Brides. She’s been busy, and I couldn’t be prouder. I told her that at the rate she’s going, she could be my sugar mama and I could sit back, quit the divorce train, and just enjoy my girl’s riches . . .
She said I would get too bored, which is true, but she has incorporated me into her YouTube channel. I have my own series, Crafting with Alec. It’s cute shit. Watch me fuck up a lot while Luna patiently teaches me how to do things. On the rare occasion I do something right, I feel extraordinarily accomplished. I’m not ready to quit my job just yet, but Luna said her “hot boyfriend” has nearly doubled her followers.
I do look like Chris Evans, after all.
“This is the big moment. Please refrain from swearing if you don’t w
in,” Diane says, holding up a large envelope. “Graceful losers all around. Helen, Thad, I’m looking at you two.”
“Why did you single us out?” Thad exclaims, panicking. “Does that mean Team Rossi won?” I grip his shoulder, trying to ease his anxiety.
Thad and Naomi found out they’re having a girl, and Thad has been going crazy, overbuying things for his little girl—not ideal for their tiny apartment. There’s an archway of baby things in their entryway that you have to walk under in order to get to their living room.
“No,” Diane says in a clipped tone. “I’m saying stay calm and respectful. That’s all. We don’t need any hysterics. We only have one chance to capture a true reaction to the winner, so keep it together.”
She hands the envelope off to Mary, who has been keeping her distance. Rightfully so. Rumor around set is this is her last season, and they’re looking for someone to take her place.
Guess who wants to apply for the job? Luna, right? Nope . . . Thad. He’s caught the crafting bug and thinks he would be an energetic and fun host. At least that’s what a lot of the forums are saying online.
I mean, I can see it, actually.
“Places!” Diane calls out. “Remember, until I say cut, you need smiles on your faces, and then you’re allowed to wallow. We will run through some quick interviews, and then you’re free.”
I stand next to Thad, my hand still on his shoulder as his body vibrates with excitement. A campaign on Instagram has started that’s centered around Thad, earning him a cultlike following that loves him in all his dramatic glory. So by the time the final episode aired, Thad was actually hopeful that his popularity could mean a win—though Team Rossi easily had the best wedding. As for Team Hernandez, well . . . they had Helen.
I glance over at Luna, who is standing between Cohen and Declan. Last night I asked her how they were feeling about everything, and she said they had a second option if they didn’t win the penthouse, which they were a little more excited about: an old brownstone they want to renovate in Brooklyn. People are calling it a money pit, but they see the potential.
Diane counts down and then points at Mary, who erases her scowl and turns on a smile for the camera. “America has voted, and the winner of The Wedding Game is . . .”
She has to count to five before she reads the card—Diane’s orders. And it’s annoying. I hate when reality shows do that. Just fucking say it already.
Mary unfolds the envelope, smiles, and then looks straight at the camera.
Thad tenses.
Naomi sucks in a sharp breath of air.
And I feel my butt cheeks squeeze together in anticipation.
“Team Hernandez.”
“What in the ever—!” Thad shouts. I slap my hand over his mouth, and he continues to mutter obscenities against my palm.
Luciana and Amanda cheer while Helen swoons against their workbench. We watch them celebrate as Mary walks over to them, envelope in hand. She looks at the camera again and says, “Until next wedding season, keep crafting and falling in love.”
Diane yells, “Cut!” and I release Thad’s mouth.
“Way to keep it together, man,” I say.
“I want to see those results,” he seethes. “There’s no way America liked Helen more than me. You should have heard the things they were saying about her beehive hairdo.”
“Settle down,” Naomi says, tugging on his arm. “It’s okay, Thad.”
“It’s not. Have you seen our baby archway? Christ.”
Team Rossi comes over to us, and I give them a sympathetic smile. “You truly had the prettiest wedding.”
Cohen and Declan nod but don’t look upset at all—their new project is going to be more fun for them to tackle . . . more them.
“She’s a monster. She paid people off. There’s no way she won.”
Luciana and Amanda come up to us as well, hand in hand. “Sorry you guys didn’t win,” Amanda says. “I know how much this meant to you.”
“Dammit,” Thad says under his breath. Then he turns to Amanda. “How you grew inside that beast of a woman, I have no idea.”
“Thad,” Naomi reprimands, but Amanda just laughs.
“I ask myself that question every day.”
“Luciana, Amanda, interview room!” Diane calls out. “Helen, you too.”
Helen pops up from the workbench as if she never felt faint in the first place. She brushes off her dress as she walks by our little gathering, flashing us an evil grin. “Never underestimate the lesbians—they always find a way to be on top.” And with that she walks away.
“Lesbians,” Thad whispers, clenching his fist.
I wrap my arm around him and give him a squeeze. “I’m sorry, dude. I really thought we were going to win. It felt like we had a good chance.”
“People loved the flamingos. Where were all the flamingo voters?”
“I voted for you,” Cohen says.
“Me too,” Declan announces.
Luna raises her hand. “So did I. Your wedding was the most magical to me.” I pull her against me and kiss the top of her head. It was the most magical to me too, because that’s when I got my girl back.
“Oh wow.” Thad waves his hand in front of his eyes. “That . . . that means a lot to me.”
“And hey,” I say, “I know you really wanted the new place, but you did get more than a wedding out of the competition. You got a family.”
Thad looks around our little circle and smiles.
Every Sunday, without fail, we all get together and have brunch. The host changes, but everyone’s there, my family and Luna’s family, forming one big ball of love. We had a small gender-reveal party, Thad has already claimed Cohen and Declan as “guncles” (gay uncles), and he’s grateful for the number of people who are willing to babysit, even Luna and Cohen’s parents—who are the parents I’ve always wanted but have never had. Luckily for me, they told me to call them Mom and Dad, and fuck . . . I do.
“I have the best family,” Thad says, clutching his chest.
We all hug, and when we pull away, Luna says, “And now that I’m moving in with Alec, my apartment is going to be available. Farrah is moving into a studio to live her single life, and I’m good friends with our landlords, so they’ll rent to whoever I suggest as a replacement. It’s a two-bedroom with plenty of space, and it’s only a few blocks from me and Alec—and it’s rent controlled.”
“Bless my nips, rent controlled?” Thad screams and claps, then lifts his fist to the air, pausing as if he’s frozen. Beside him, Naomi’s eyes begin to fill with tears, and from her reaction alone I feel my heart swell inside my chest.
Luna frowns. “Thad, are you—?”
He unfreezes himself and looks at the both of us, tears now in his eyes. “Seriously? I could live close to my brother and have room for my baby girl?”
“As long as you stop buying things,” I say, just before Thad nearly tackles me to the ground with a hug.
If you told me a few months ago that I would be in love, have a solid relationship with my brother, be expecting a niece, and count myself as part of an actual family, I would have said you were crazy.
But here I am, a family, a partner, and a niece, all blessing my life with love . . . love I didn’t think I wanted, but love I desperately needed.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve always wanted to write a wedding-centered book, so when I sat down with one of my agents, Aimee Ashcraft, and came up with this idea on the spot, I was immediately excited about the prospect.
You might not know this about me, but I used to be a crafter. I would craft when I wasn’t working and then take my fine artistic work to craft fairs and sell it. My medium was decoupage, and I was freaking good at it. There are people out there in this world who have my homemade signs from ten years ago. Luckily, I was able to take that crafting bug and apply it to my very own DIY wedding. My wife and I were trying to put on a pretty but cost-effective wedding, so relating to The Wedding Game characters was
very easy. Funnily enough, we had a vintage carnival theme, and I found a weird clown figurine at the Thrifty store for under a dollar. Yes, I bought it. Yes, I spray-painted it hot pink. And yes, I displayed it on our dessert table with wood crates and burlap. The Wedding Game characters might not have wanted that clown, but I sure did.
To Kimberly Brower and Aimee Ashcraft, my agents, thank you for having confidence in my storytelling and for your passion for new ideas. You’ve truly made a huge difference in my life and in my career.
A huge thank-you to Lauren Plude for acquiring my ideas so I can write more wonderful stories for the Montlake team. Even though your “crafting” falls to stickering by numbers, your friendship and confidence have been unprecedented. Thank you.
Lindsey Faber, thank you for making the editing process an absolute breeze!
To the bloggers and readers, I don’t even know how to express my deepest love for you. You take a chance on my books every time I release one of them, which is something I could never show enough gratitude for. Thank you for being the best fans a girl could ask for. You make this job so much fun!
I would be remiss not to mention my best friend in all of this. Thank you, Jenny, for handling everything behind the scenes, encouraging me, and being excited whenever I tell you about a new idea. Number one fan for life!
And lastly, thank you to my wife, Steph, for being my backbone, the girl behind the girl, and the best mother/wife a lady could ask for. Without your taking care of our children and supporting me in so many ways, I would never be able to do what I do. You are the reason I’ve been able to accomplish my dreams. Thank you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2019 Milana Schaffer
USA Today bestselling author, wife, adoptive mother, and peanut butter lover Meghan Quinn pens romantic comedies and contemporary romance. Quinn brings readers the perfect combination of heart, humor, and heat in every book.