“Sorry,” Hunter said, not sorry at all as he walked backward to talk to his boss. “Got somewhere more important to be.”
Hunter turned away and ran. But not before he saw Cassidy’s approving smile.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Brit needed a break from debating exactly how many pairs of shoes she’d need. Some decisions were just too hard.
She dug her phone from beneath a pile of clothes and checked her messages.
A bunch from her friends, but she ignored those for now. Too distracting. Instead, she read the one from her broker, her eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“That was fast,” she murmured, texting the woman back. She hadn’t even put her apartment on the market yet, and already her broker thought she had the perfect candidate for subletting Brit’s apartment on a month-to-month basis, with the potential to go longer.
Brit really, really hoped it would go longer. But for now she needed to cover her ass. And her rent.
Brit agreed to leave a key at the front desk for the broker and potential renter tomorrow afternoon. She told them to come by at their convenience. She wouldn’t be there.
She went back to her shoe choices.
Black leather stilettos or black patent leather. Black leather, black patent leather . . .
She tossed both into the suitcase. Just because she was leaving New York didn’t mean she couldn’t bring a little New York with her.
Brit had moved on to her sweaters when there was a knock at her door. Probably Daisy and/or Taylor, deciding to check up on her in person after she’d avoided them all afternoon.
“Coming,” she called, tossing a blue cardigan onto the top of her bag and opening the front door without checking the peephole first.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Hunter? Aren’t you supposed to be—”
“At my party, yeah,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, she stepped aside, too stunned to see him to do anything else.
“Why aren’t you at the party?” she asked.
He looked down at her. “Why aren’t you?”
She dodged the question, giving him a skeptical once-over. “Did you run here or something?”
He laughed and touched a hand to his forehead, which was just slightly damp with sweat. “I guess I did. I had something to say, and it felt—feels—urgent.”
“Well.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “It sort of is. You have a flight to catch at the crack of dawn tomorrow, do you not?”
“I do,” he said slowly.
She studied him again, more carefully this time, needing to know he was okay, even if she was still kind of mad at him. “How’s your brother?”
He nodded. “We talked. Blake’s . . . well, in better spirits than I think I would be in his shoes. He’s convinced he’ll pull through.”
“Good,” Brit said firmly. “Because he will.”
Hunter smiled, his expression decidedly less haunted than it had been during their fight on Friday night.
An awkward moment stretched between them as they just stared at each other.
“Brit.” He stepped forward, his expression turning intense. “Brit, I need to ask you something that I . . . have no right to ask you. Especially after the way I’ve behaved.”
“I’m listening,” she said, even as her heart leapt with anticipation.
He sucked in a breath. “Okay, well, I was at the party, and the gang was, well, like they always are. . . .”
“Interfering, nosy, but well meaning?”
“Yeah, that.” He swallowed. “Anyway, someone, I can’t remember who now, said something . . . They asked if we were going to do long distance. And I said we weren’t. That we’d only been dating for a few weeks and I couldn’t ask that . . .”
Brit’s heart sank. “Long distance.”
“Yeah. Not a horrible idea, plenty of couples do it. And I came here to ask, to beg. But then on the way over here, I realized . . .”
He stepped forward, his hands lifting as though he wanted to touch her, but then he dropped them to his sides, even as his eyes pleaded. “I can’t do long distance with you, Brit.”
Her heart wrenched in pain, and she turned away.
His hands caught her face, cupping it as he tilted it up to him. “I can’t do long distance because I can’t bear to go hours without seeing you, much less days. Weeks. Months. I can’t do it, Brit. I need you too damn much. As my friend. As my lover. As my everything. Which is why I need to ask, and like I said, I have no right . . .”
He closed his eyes and then opened them, and she saw they were damp. “Come with me. Please come with me. We can work something out with Cassidy. It can be temporary. Just until my brother gets better, until the company finds someone else. Then we can come back to New York. Or maybe you’ll fall in love with Kansas City, and we can get a house and a big yard, and—maybe start a family,” he said all on a rush.
Brit stared, stunned, and he let out a nervous laugh at her expression. “Okay. That’s fast. Too fast. Fine, we can start with long distance, and then—”
She set her fingers lightly against his mouth, her own eyes damp now. “Hunter. Hunter.”
He caught his breath. “Yeah.”
She reached behind to her back pocket, where she’d shoved her phone after her conversation with her broker.
Brit glanced down, pulled up what she wanted him to see, and handed him the phone.
He gave her a puzzled expression, then glanced down. Stared. Stared some more.
He looked back. “This is a plane ticket.”
She smiled. “It is.”
“Your name. Tomorrow. Kansas City.”
“Your exact same flight,” she said quietly. “Nick did some spying.”
Hunter took a step back, giving his head a shake, and then he looked around her apartment at the suitcases. “You’re serious.”
“You need me,” she said simply. “You may not know it, but you need your best friend right now, and despite what I said the other night, that’s me. It’ll always be me, Hunter.”
“I know.” His voice was gruff, and he cleared it. “Brit, I appreciate you coming. Really. But I’ve got to know . . . are you coming only as my best friend? Or something more?”
“What did you have in mind?” she asked with a slight smile, her heart close to bursting.
He smiled back, tentatively. “I was thinking we could be . . . whatever the hell you want to call best friends who sleep together, eat together, date each other. I was thinking I could be your . . .”
“Boyfriend?” she asked, not daring to hope.
“I’d like that a hell of a lot more than just friends,” he said, his gaze locking on hers.
“Me too,” she whispered.
For a moment they just smiled at each other, their smiles getting wider and wider until they turned into big goofy grins.
Then Hunter’s entire face softened with tenderness. “God, I love you.”
“I know. I love you too,” she said, wiping away happy tears.
“No,” he said, coming toward her and grabbing her hands. “No, I mean I’m in love with you, Brit. Hopelessly, until the end of time.”
She launched herself at him, her arms and legs wrapping around him. He caught her with a laugh as she buried her face into his neck.
“Say it,” he said into her hair after a moment. “Please say it.”
She smiled. “I’m in love with you too.”
His arms tightened. “Hopelessly, until the end of time?”
Brit pulled back and cupped his face. “Completely hopelessly, until the end of time.”
She kissed him to prove it.
Epilogue
“What do you think?” Hunter asked as he snagged another glass of champagne off a passing tray.
“Our wedding’s going to be this great, right?”
Brit gave him an exasperated look. “You can’t propose at someone else’s wedding. It’s ba
d form.”
He glanced down and smiled before brushing a kiss over her lips. “Have I not proposed yet?”
“Nope. And I want fancy. Public. A spectacle.”
“Do you promise to say yes?” he asked, deepening the kiss.
She merely smiled against his mouth, lifting a hand to pull him closer.
“Ahem.”
Taylor and Nick wandered over, champagne glasses in hand, as they were baby-free for the evening.
“This wedding almost makes me regret eloping,” Taylor said, admiring the lavishly decorated Plaza. “Almost.” She wrapped her arm around Nick as she said it.
“Yeah, though I am digging the open bar,” Nick said. “Lincoln and Daisy had the right idea with the signature cocktails.”
“Oh, you mean like the signature cocktails they asked you to create?” Taylor asked dryly.
Nick grinned. “What can I say? I’m a genius.”
Taylor glanced at Brit. “When are you two doing this?” She gestured at the posh surroundings.
“We were just discussing,” Hunter said. “Though I can safely say we’ll skip the cotton-candy bar.”
“Lincoln’s idea,” Penelope said, joining them, her hand in Cole’s.
“Yeah, I don’t think there was ever a doubt about that, babe,” Cole said. “Thank God Daisy the wedding planner hired herself to plan the whole thing. I’m pretty sure we have her to thank for nixing his plan of whipped cream and sprinkles served on top of the champagne.”
“When does the dancing start?” Penelope asked impatiently.
“I think we’re supposed to wait for the toasts and the first dance and cake-cutting,” Brit pointed out.
“Ooooh, cake,” Penelope mused, looking around as though to figure out when that part would be happening.
Cole pulled her close, pressing a smiling kiss to her temple. “I adore you.”
“Obviously,” Penelope said. “I’m fantastic.”
There was a tap at the microphone. The DJ waited for everyone to quiet, then announced that in lieu of the best-man and maid-of-honor toasts, there’d actually be a joint toast to the happy couple.
Emma and Alex Cassidy stepped forward and took the mic.
Emma spoke first, her smooth alto immediately commanding the room. “Cassidy and I are so pleased by the opportunity to have a platform in which to blatantly embarrass my sister and Lincoln with details they wish we wouldn’t. And we’ll get to that. But first, per the request of the bride and groom . . .”
The live band began quietly playing under Emma’s voice.
“As much as Daisy and Lincoln love each other—and they do, as much as any couple I’ve ever seen—there’s another important part of their love that they thought deserved a little attention today. A group without whom they wouldn’t be together. A group without whom Cassidy and I wouldn’t be together . . .”
Cassidy took the microphone and gave a rare unguarded grin. “To the Stiletto and Oxford people in attendance tonight: For once in your lives, if you’d actually do as I say, please get your asses onto the dance floor to join Daisy and Lincoln in their first dance. . . .”
The band played louder now, starting up the chorus of the very familiar Rembrandts’ song.
Laughing in delight, Brit let Hunter lead her onto the dance floor, along with Penelope and Cole. Taylor and Nick joined. Jackson swung Mollie into a twirl, as Jake dipped Grace low. Riley enticed Sam into some sort of sexy grind. Emma and Cassidy joined them, and Lincoln led his bride onto the floor in a dramatic waltz.
And last, but never least, the duo who started it all, Julie and Mitchell, joined the group, coaxing them into a conga-line sing-along monstrosity to none other than the Friends theme song.
And as the band sang about life being stuck in second gear and love life DOA, Brit laughingly clung to Hunter and knew it would all be okay.
Sure, they lived in Kansas City now, farther from their friends than she’d like, but they made it back to New York often, for her monthly trips to see her Oxford team in person.
Hunter’s brother wasn’t quite back to his old self, but he was in remission and hopefully would be coming back to work soon to run the family company. Side by side with Hunter, who’d become an integral part of the business and loved every aspect of it. And after endless entanglements with paperwork, Malik had settled in as a legal and loved family member.
It hadn’t been an easy road for the Cross family. Or for Hunter and Brit as they’d adjusted to a new life away from New York.
It may not have been their day. Their week. Or even their year.
But through it all, Hunter and Brit had each other.
And they’d had this crew. They’d had the ladies of Stiletto, the men of Oxford (plus Penelope), who’d stayed with them every step of the way. The distance hadn’t mattered. It would never matter.
They’d all be there. For one another. Always.
Afterword
Hi, all, and thanks so much for taking the time to read I Think I Love You! As a friends-to-lovers story, Hunter and Brit’s book is one of my favorite types of books to write, even as it was a bit bittersweet to end the Stiletto and Oxford series after five wonderful years! (I totally cried writing that epilogue!)
If you’re new to the series, you probably noticed that there are quite a few secondary characters in this book, most of them working with Hunter and Brit at Oxford magazine (or at its sister magazine, Stiletto).
Curious about how it all started? I definitely recommend After the Kiss, Julie and Mitchell’s story, which kicked off the entire Stiletto and Oxford world. Specifically interested in the Oxford guys? Start with Irresistibly Yours, featuring Penelope and Cole!
In the mood for a binge? Read them all! I’ve listed the entire series below, as well as their starring characters.
After the Kiss: Julie and Mitchell
Love the One You’re With: Jake and Grace
Just One Night: Riley and Sam
The Trouble with Love: Emma and Cassidy
Irresistibly Yours: Cole and Penelope
I Wish You Were Mine: Jackson and Mollie
Someone Like You: Lincoln and Daisy
I Knew You Were Trouble: Nick and Taylor
I Think I Love You: Hunter and Brit
When I first sat down to write this author note, I felt a bit melancholy, as though I was having to say goodbye to friends. But then I realized, that’s the beauty of books—we can revisit our friends over and over, and I know that these characters will always be near and dear to my heart, as will you gorgeous readers, who’ve made the success and longevity of this series possible.
I thank you so much.
xoxo,
Lauren Layne
For the readers of the Stiletto and Oxford series. Thank you for all the memories.
Acknowledgments
As always, it takes a village! A huge thank-you to the following, with whom this book absolutely would not have been possible!
Nicole Resciniti, my amazing agent, who I’ve come to believe is actually capable of magic, as she consistently makes my every career dream come true.
Lisa Filipe, my fabulous assistant, whose patience with me is gold-medal worthy and whose innovation and enthusiasm are priceless.
The Loveswept team, especially Sue Grimshaw, Gina Wachtel, and Matt Schwartz, who’ve done more for my career and the Lauren Layne brand than I know how to put into words. A special thanks also to Madeleine Kenney for the marketing support, as well as the cover designer and production teams who help turn my story into a beautiful book.
Kristi Yanta, for the story brilliance and friendship. #braintwinforever
Jessica Lemmon, Jennifer Probst, and Rachel Van Dyken—I never knew how important having author friends would be until I met you guys!
All of my friends and family, for your support and understanding when I disappear deep into the writing cave for days at a time.
And most all of all, to Anthony. Truly the greatest partner I could eve
r ask for.
Read on for an excerpt from
the first book in Lauren Layne’s I Do, I Don’t series
Available now from
Chapter 1
“Simon, unless you want to die on the side of a Montana highway, I strongly suggest you find another song to sing along with.”
Simon broke off mid-chorus of “Eye of the Tiger” and gave her a disappointed look. “You’re never going to get your guy with that sort of attitude.”
“Oh, I’ll get my guy,” Jordan muttered. “I didn’t cross two time zones to not get him.”
Even as she spoke the confident words, she lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead, which had started aching at 32,000 feet, over one of the Dakotas, and had turned into a throbbing migraine by the time she and her colleague had loaded into their Ford Focus rental car at Missoula International Airport.
That had been nearly an hour ago, and Simon had been singing Survivor’s power anthem for at least half that.
Her friend lifted a water bottle from the middle console, unscrewed the cap, and held it out to her. “Told you you should have let me drive.”
Jordan snatched the water bottle and gave him a wry look before fixing her attention back on the two-lane road. “Do you even have your driver’s license?”
“Are you telling me I look young, baby doll?”
“No, baby doll, I’m telling you that you look like someone who hasn’t left the island of Manhattan in two decades and thus hasn’t been behind a wheel in at least that long.”
“It’s only been one decade,” he corrected.
She choked on her water and looked at him again. “Seriously?”
Simon laughed and grabbed the bottle, took a drink. “Don’t be ridiculous, Carpenter. You know I take a trip to Bali every year.”
“Yeah, well . . . Bali this is not,” she said, glancing out at the wide-open spaces around them.
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