Pickup Lessons (Awkward Arrangements Book 3)

by Tanya Gallagher

  If I get the chance.

  Titus’s voice comes through, gruff on the line. “Where are you?”

  “Uh. Talking to you?” I guess.

  “Why aren’t you here?”

  It’s not the answer I expected. “What are you talking about, Ti?”

  He sighs noisily. “I got your comic.”

  Ah.

  I’d carefully scanned the story into my computer to finish rendering it digitally, but I hand-delivered the original to Titus’s mailbox, hoping he’d root through the junk mail and take the time to read what I made.

  “And?” Even though my feet keep moving, my heart feels paralyzed, time turning backward so I can only speak in single syllables without fear of my voice shaking. I make a rustling sound as I walk, and I have to clutch the fabric around my waist to keep it from slipping.

  “It was good, okay?” For the first time, Titus sounds like a friend again. Like maybe we can be okay. “Really good.”

  “Thank you.”

  I picture him nodding on his end of the line, pinching the bridge of his nose, his mouth a flat line. “I needed to ask you something about it.”

  “Anything,” I say.

  “Do you love her?”

  My feet stop short. The last time I admitted how I felt about Eden, it earned me heartbreak and the biggest fight I’ve ever had with my best friend. But now that I’ve spoken the truth once, I can’t stop doing it. Maybe Eden and all her talk of authenticity have rubbed off on me because I can’t go back to being the guy too afraid to use his voice. Anyway, Titus deserves my honesty, even if he hates me for it. Things can’t get much worse than this, so there’s nothing more to lose.

  I blow out a breath and stare out the window as I answer him. On the sidewalk below, spring’s beginning to crack, the afternoon glow as bright and fierce as my words. “I do, Titus.”

  “Just keep loving her, okay?” he rasps.

  My throat feels dry. “I plan to.”

  “Good.” Teasing warmth floods his voice. “Then get your ass to The Hole. We’re waiting.”

  I don’t dare ask who we is. I just hang up the phone and go.

  Titus waits for me outside The Hole, leaning against the building’s brick exterior as I cross the street toward the front door. He smirks as he catches sight of the fabric peeking out from under my coat. “Nice outfit,” he says, a twitch of his lips cracking the marble of his face.

  I hope to god I didn’t show up here for nothing, but his words chip away some of my hesitation and give me hope that Eden’s inside. “What? This is the latest fashion,” I tell him. “Or did I read the blogs wrong?”

  Instead of stiffening at my subtle nod to Eden’s blog, he snorts and shakes his head. Then his face goes serious and contemplative. “I was wrong,” he says quietly.

  I know how tough it must be for him to admit it, stone-cold Titus Ellis who sometimes finds it hard to say how he feels. He’s so much better at showing you when you’ve impressed him or when you’ve made him happy or mad. But those three words are all the start I need.

  “So was I,” I say.

  He nods once. “I shouldn’t have pulled out the Conflict of Interest clause like a dick. Business is business, and life is life. If we can just promise it’s not going to affect us…”

  “Ti,” I begin. “You’re like my brother. I’m always gonna need you, no matter who else is in our lives.”

  A smile creeps across his face. “Good, ’cause who’s gonna keep you in line? Push you to get your art out there?”

  “You?” I guess, and his smile widens.

  “There’s good news about the Dark Horse contract.”

  “What’s that?” We haven’t spoken in days, and despite all the designs I’ve emailed his way—because it’s my damn job—I have no idea if he’s actually implemented them. Turns out, it’s pretty fucking hard to run a company with someone when you’re not talking to each other.

  “The first site iteration should be ready to deliver to them this week. And then there’s nothing in the way if you want to approach them about your book.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “You should do it. I wasn’t lying before. It’s really fucking good.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and pull him into a quick hug.

  Titus groans and steps back. “Get your ass inside.” As I swing open The Hole’s front door, I swear I hear him mutter under his breath, “You deserve each other,” but it’s full of affection. And then I step inside and the noise of the crowd blots out anything else he might have to say.

  Fuck.

  Whatever promotion Matt and his fellow employees did paid off, and the bar bustles with a loose, well-on-its-way-to-drunk crowd. Elbows and wide smiles. Laughter and the smell of tequila in the air. But none of that matters, because the crowd parts and I see Eden at the bar, and my heart yells out that it’s found home.

  My girl wears a toga, cinched at her waist, one shoulder bared to the world. Tiny, printed feathers decorate the bedsheets, and the sight of them brings a stupid grin to my face. I’m still nervous as fuck, but just being here with her feels like a step in the right direction. A step closer to who I want to be.

  The crowd parts around me, casting glances at my body as I approach Eden, but I’m impervious to the stares and the poorly-concealed giggles. I only have eyes for Eden, who stands behind the bar next to Matt with flushed cheeks and fingernails painted blue to match the color-changing tequila she’s pouring.

  Matt never even got to demonstrate the chemical reaction of pea-flower-infused tequila and lime juice the other day, but I watch with fascination as Eden adds a layer of liquor to the glass. First the liquor touches the lemon and lime juice and simple syrup, swirling with the colors to turn the blue liquid purple and then pink. Then it sinks lower toward the lemon crushed ice, which remains a brighter yellow in the bottom of the glass.

  The crowd gasps as colors layer in the glass, and Eden’s eyes light with pleasure at the reaction. What’s happening here is more than chemistry—when you put the right ingredients together, it’s magic. Then she glances up like she can feel my presence, and her mouth rounds in an O. She slides the Fool toward one of the women seated at the bar, her fingers trembling, but she never moves her gaze from mine.

  I step behind the counter and shrug off my coat, eliciting a pretty gasp from Eden at the sight of my toga. My very awkwardly tied toga. Let’s hope I’ve secured it well enough and tonight’s bartending session doesn’t accidentally turn into a striptease.

  Eden’s eyes drop down my body appreciatively, lingering on my exposed arms before returning to my face. She bites her lower lip like she’s still unsure of how this is all going to turn out. But I know in my heart of hearts every bump we hit along the way is gonna be rewarded.

  In my story, the hero gets the girl.

  “How much does a polar bear weigh?” she asks quietly. It’s a challenge made only for us, and it feels like the most serious question in the world. Because Eden Ellis knows me and I know her, and we’re perfect just as we are.

  I deliver my answer, steady and true. “Enough to break the ice.”

  Then her lips curve into that smile I’ve been dying for, and we’re the only ones in the room. I slip an arm around her waist and pull her close, reveling in the feel of her body under mine, her soft skin at my fingertips. “I love you,” I murmur against her ear. “And I figured out everything with Titus. From here on out, everything’s going to be okay.”

  And then she’s nodding and laughing in my arms, the air bright with the scent of limes and hope.

  “I love you too,” she whispers.

  Matt lifts a glass in the air. “To the April fools,” he laughs. “It’s about freaking time.”

  The bar toasts us, but by then I’m too busy kissing my girl to care.

  Eden’s mouth tastes like perfection, like promises and redemption and the barest hint of lime. I sink into this kiss, not worrying who sees us, just knowing it matters that I put my heart on the line. The
re’s no more holding back or hesitating, just letting Eden know how much I care. How much she’s always going to matter to me. How much I’ll fight for her every day.

  Like I told her before, we’ve both lost the bet. But more importantly, with my fingers in her hair and my heart in her hands, we’ve both won.

  29

  Eden

  After the crowd erupts in whoops and wolf whistles around us, Dash sets me back on my feet and brushes his lips against my ear. “Want to know the best part of wearing a toga?” he whispers, low enough that only I can hear him.

  I lean back on my heels and look up at him, a smile and a question on my face. “What?” I whisper back, and from the grin curving his talented lips, I know I’m going to love the answer.

  “Taking it off.” He slides his lips over the spot where my shoulder meets my neck, and a delicious shiver ripples through my body.

  Dash is mine and he’s real and we’re in this together. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Now there’s just the matter of the crowd.

  I spin in my gold sandals to face our friend. “Matt?”

  He finishes serving a Cosmo and turns to me and Dash. “Yeah?”

  “Any chance we’ve fulfilled the obligations of the bet?”

  A grin splits his face. “You did good. Now get the hell out of here.”

  You don’t have to tell me twice.

  With Dash’s hand in mine, we leave our jackets behind the bar and weave toward the front door, past drunken revelers and a thousand pairs of watching eyes. Despite every stranger looking at me and Dash and our silly togas, there’s only one person I want to find. But Titus isn’t inside.

  Disappointment fills my chest, but we keep going. It’s not my brother’s nature to insert himself into anyone else’s big moment, though it would have been nice to see him, to make sure he’s really, truly okay. I already know he approves of me and Dash thanks to the story he gave me. Or, at least, he’s coming to terms with our relationship. Still, I wanted a chance to say thanks.

  When I left Titus’s apartment yesterday, I knew I’d be fighting for Dash, that I’d show up in this ridiculous outfit and stand in front of the crowd. But it wasn’t until I pored through the pages of the story Titus shared with me that I realized just how much was on the line.

  I stayed up all night reading the comic—not once, but twice. Dash had put me in the story—mostly clothed, thank god—but it was all about how the irreverent guy figures out what he wants just in time to save it. His superpower? A sense of humor that makes bad guys laugh so hard they freeze on the spot. Which, I guess, fair.

  The story was rich and full—so much more complete because he’d made himself the hero and spoken up for what he wanted. I just happened to be one of the things he desired.

  Lucky, lucky me.

  Dash and I step outside the crowded bar, breathing in big lungfuls of air that smells like spring. “I missed you so much,” I whisper, standing on the threshold of everything that comes next.

  Dash’s answering kiss feels like the start of a new story written just for us.

  “Home?” I ask, bringing my eyes to his face and soaking in his beautiful features—the dimple creasing his cheek because he’s smiling so hard, the eyes that truly see me for who I am.

  “Home,” he agrees. “Wherever you go, I’m with you.”

  For the first time in my life, I don’t have enough words to tell him how much that means. Dash has stolen them, along with my heart.

  We turn our bodies toward my house, and my chest lightens even more as I find Titus leaning against the building’s exterior. He’s got one hand shoved in the pocket of his spring jacket while he uses the other to scroll through his phone, but he looks relaxed and unhurried for the first time in ages. Maybe redemption looks good on all of us.

  “Hey, snotface,” I call gently, and Titus jerks up his head.

  His eyes narrow on our linked hands, but he doesn’t look pissed. Just mildly aggrieved, which is a win in my book. “Don’t tell me Dash’s sense of humor is rubbing off on you,” he mutters.

  I look at Dash and can’t help my giant smile. I cup my free hand around my mouth and stage whisper, “I think he’s bringing out the best in me.”

  My brother groans good-naturedly, and I step forward to hug him. “Wait!” Titus yelps. He puts up a hand to stop me. “Not in a toga, okay? I’ll take that hug another day.”

  Laughing, I tell Titus it’s safe to head inside the bar. Then Dash and I stumble toward my apartment, bedsheets dragging on the ground beneath our feet. Giggling and half drunk on him, the walk goes by in a blur. I’m pretty sure Eden-in-toga photos snapped by spectating tourists will find their way to the internet, undermining the carefully-constructed image I spent years building.

  I simply don’t care anymore.

  It’s like I told my brother—I want to be all of me. With Dash, I am.

  We step inside my apartment, mouths and hands and skin and love. Dash’s fingers flutter up my sides and cup my jaw as he kisses me like he’s drowning. “Did I ever tell you how much I love seeing you in bedsheets?” he pants against my mouth. I groan and fist my hands in his hair, deepening the kiss, demanding more, but he’s the one who pulls back.

  “Just a second,” Dash says. “Princess Diana. Don’t want her to get out.” My heart swells with love as he kicks the door closed behind us.

  Princess Diana, being the regal lady she is, prances into the room at the mention of her name, mewling loudly. Instead of heading toward my outstretched hand, she beelines toward Dash. Then, shocking us both, she rubs her face against his ankles like he’s her long-lost love.

  “Hi, weirdo,” Dash croons, bending to run a hand over her back. “I missed you too.”

  I gape at him until he glances up at me from his spot on the floor.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Did I miss something?”

  His crooked grin wraps a hand around my heart and tugs hard. “You’re not the only lady I’m trying to seduce.” He rises to his full height and reaches under his toga to reveal a tiny bag of dried sardines. “Speaking of which. I almost forgot.” With a smile, he rips open the package and tosses one to Diana, who practically dies of happiness on the spot.

  I drop my hands to my hips. “You seriously smuggled a bag of sardines under your toga in the bar and the whole way home?”

  Dash shrugs. “I heard treats might help.” A mischievous glint lights his eyes. “But don’t worry, I’ve got something else hidden under this toga just for you.”

  I roll my eyes, and Dash drags me against his body, grinding his hips into mine. I gasp at the feel of his erection, hard and thick and ready. His mouth travels at a leisurely pace from my neck to the base of my ear, and then, when I’m hot and aching for satisfaction, Dash drops to his knees. He plants one kiss against my belly button, not nearly enough through the thin fabric. Then he leans back and reaches under his bedsheets again.

  “Oh!” I gasp. “You were serious?”

  Dash looks up at me from the ground, his eyes shining with amusement and something else—anticipation? Hope?

  With shaking hands, he pulls a ring box from behind his back and opens it to face me. A beautiful ring winks back at me in a bed of black velvet.

  Time slows down, and a dizzying rush of adrenaline hits my veins. “Wait, what?” I ask, my pulse racing. Is he serious?

  Dash blows out a deep breath, and the ring shakes in his hands. Suddenly, I realize how nervous he is. “Eden Ellis, I knew before I ever kissed you that I needed you in my life. But after I kissed you?” He shakes his head as if he’s just as enraptured in the story as I am. “After that, I knew I needed you for the rest of my life. You make me a better man, and I don’t mean that in the sappy sense of the phrase. You make me believe in myself, and you push me to be a version of myself that I’m proud to show the world.”

  Tears prick my eyes, and I nod along with his words. “I love you, Dash,” I whisper.

  It’s like my wor
ds give him courage. “I love you too.” He takes another deep breath. “I may not always have the right words, but every day I’ll tell you I love you. And every day, I’ll show you.”

  I nod slowly, my lips feeling numb. “But in your comic, there’s no proposal,” I stammer, as if life always has to follow art.

  Dash’s grin shows me he already knows my answer. “Come on, I had to have some surprises up my sleeve.”

  I drop my gaze to his bare arms. “Your sleeves, huh?”

  He quirks an eyebrow and laughs. “Always with the technicalities. So what’ll it be, Eden? Will you marry me?”

  It could be too soon by anyone else’s standards, but not by ours. At the end of the day, you need to trust that you know what’s best for you, no matter how it looks to anyone else.

  “Yes,” I breathe, my heart swelling with the kind of love that makes you feel invincible. Then I’m nodding and laughing and pulling him to his feet. “A thousand times, yes.”

  Dash slides the ring on my finger and kisses every inch of my face, making arousal tug low in my belly.

  “Wait!” I say, coming to my senses as his mouth skims the tip of my nose.

  A crease forms between Dash’s eyebrows, and I smooth it away with a kiss. Then I pull back breathlessly and look him in the eye. “I choose you, too,” I say because I need this to be even. That’s what a commitment is, that’s what forever is. Choosing each other every day. “Every day, I’ll love you back. Every day I’ll do my best to make you proud.” I poke a finger against his solid abs. “Even when I’m a pain in your ass.”

  He grabs my finger and brings it to his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then Dash brings his mouth to mine with a kiss that feels like the start of everything.

  My fiancé skims his lips from my mouth down my neck, finding the spot below my ear that makes me moan and makes my legs buckle.

  “Dash,” I whimper, gripping his shoulders to keep myself steady.

  “Yes, angel?”

  I grin with the realization of it. “Did you seriously just propose to me on April Fool’s Day?”