Reid rubs his hands together. “I might have some ideas.”
Chapter Nineteen
RUTH
“How are you feeling?” Beck asks, coming up from behind with a load of clean mugs.
“Fine,” I say softly as the front door to Snow Roasts opens. My heart panics as I glance up, spotting a tourist.
It’s been like that all day. Hearing the ring of the bell, dread filling me that it’s Brig or a Knightly or someone who was at the wedding mentioning how they saw Brig and me fighting.
But nothing.
Absolutely nothing, which makes me feel even worse.
Maybe I really didn’t matter.
Maybe I haven’t mattered to anyone.
“You don’t look fine,” Beck says. “You look really sad.”
Because I am sad.
I’m sad that I haven’t heard from Brig since Saturday, even though I said I was moving on.
I’m sad that I haven’t heard from any Knightlys, including Mrs. Knightly, who’d pushed me to find the hidden strength to go after what I wanted. Or even the holy trinity of Knightly significant others, who I thought were my friends.
I’m sad that my heart was broken, irrevocably broken, by a man I thought was my best friend.
“How about we don’t talk about it?”
“Because that’s always the best way to handle things,” Beck says in a sarcastic tone.
Just then, Rylee comes through the door, looking exhausted. When she reaches the counter, she slaps her hand on the wood and says, “I know you’re closed, but please, for the love of God, give me some sort of caffeine. The triplets—”
Beck places a to-go cup in front of her, already anticipating the needs of his wife, and when Rylee looks up at Beck, as if he just gave her the world, the floodgates open, and I start bawling right there, in front of my friends, receipts in my hands.
“Told you. You needed to talk about it,” Beck says as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and brings me into a hug.
“You know, I feel like this is partially my fault,” Rylee says, hopping up on the counter and taking a seat. “If I didn’t agree to fill out the fake application then none of this would have happened.”
“Wait . . . what?” I ask, lifting my head form Beck’s chest. “Fake application?” Rylee’s eyes widen, and she slaps her hand over her mouth.
“Oh no, did I just say that? Damn kids have made me lose my senses.”
“What do you mean, fake?”
She waves her hand at me and takes a sip of her coffee. “It’s really no big deal, but if you want to talk about it, we can.”
“Uh yeah, I’d like to talk about it.”
“Well, you know, funny story. I was approached by the Knightlys when I was at the Landing grabbing more blueberry pancake mix, and they asked me if I would be up to, you know, matching you and Brig together. Clearly, I was more than happy to help. So they told me about this fake Summer of Love program and well, the rest is history.”
“So everyone knew?”
“Looks like everyone wants you and Brig together.”
I scoff. “Yeah, besides the one that matters . . . Brig.”
A sly smile spreads across her face. “I don’t know, I think you might be wrong.” She hops off the counter and says, “Can you help me out with something outside?”
I don’t move. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” she asks, feigning innocence.
“Like you’re about to trick me again. Like that story you just told me was intentional. As if you came in here ready to spill the beans.”
“Paranoid much?” she asks.
“No, I’m just very weary of my meddling friend.”
“Nothing to be worried about.”
“I don’t believe you,” I say as Beck pulls off my apron. “What are you doing?”
“Just go with her.”
I point at him. “Are you in cahoots with her?”
“She’s my wife, what do you think?”
“Does boss trump wife?” I ask, hoping.
“Sorry.”
“Damn it.” I glance at Rylee, who’s holding out her hand, twiddling her fingers at me. “I don’t trust you,” I say. “And I’m really not in the mood for whatever you have planned.”
“I didn’t plan it, Ruth. But I’m sure glad I had a hand in it.”
Beck pushes me from behind the counter toward Rylee who takes my hand in hers. When we reach the door to Snow Roast, I notice the streetlights are out. What the hell is going on?
We push through the doors to a pitch-black, empty Main Street.
“Uh, what’s happ—”
One single streetlight turns on and illuminates Eve. She’s holding a single piece of paper just as My Girl starts playing through the Main Street speakers.
Rylee takes my hand and takes me to Eve, who hands me the piece of paper that I now see is in the shape of a whoopie pie.
My heart stutters.
My breath catches in my throat.
And my knees feel like they’re about to give out.
Oh . . . my . . . God.
“Read it,” Eve says.
Hand shaking, I look down at the familiar cursive and nearly sob.
I thought it was the coffee that brought me into Snow Roast every morning. Truthfully, it was your smile.
I don’t have a second to process, because Rylee is taking me to the next lamp that lights up. Ren. With a smile, she hands me the next whoopie pie note.
I thought it was the coffee cake that made me sit down in Snow Roast for the morning. Truthfully, it was hearing you welcome everyone in town warmheartedly that kept me in place.
The next light, Harper hands me a note.
I thought it was your need for a storefront that brought us together. Truthfully, it was your shyness that intrigued me.
Griffin.
I thought it was your lack of tools to pull up old flooring that made me want to help you with the renovations. Truthfully, it was not wanting to see you work alone.
Rogan.
I thought it was your bribery with tea sandwiches that would keep me coming back for more. Truthfully, it was your sassy attitude that brought me to my knees.
Reid.
I thought it was my need to get you to run that made me wake up every morning and jog by your side. Truthfully, it was seeing that fresh morning smile that woke me up (and your perfect tits).
I snort and realize everyone who handed me a note is standing behind me, walking with me, making me feel anything but alone. Tears well in my eyes.
Jen.
I thought going out to dinner with you was to share a baked bean sandwich with someone who truly appreciated it. Truthfully, it was me wanting to get to know this girl who fascinated me.
Mrs. Davenport. Wait. What? Mrs. Davenport?
I thought holding your hand was me being a good friend. Truthfully, it was me desperate to touch you in any way I could.
The tears that were welling now cascade down my cheeks, as I cross the street, spotting Mr. and Mrs. Knightly. That’s my undoing. A sob wracks my body. I try to hold it together, but it feels next to impossible as they hand me one of the signs that my dad made. When I look at it, I see the detailed carving of Snow Roast, but I can barely read the note on the back through the blurriness of my eyes.
I thought I was writing letters to a girl I believed was going to be my soul mate. Truthfully, I was falling in love with my best friend, the girl behind the counter at the coffee house.
Another sob escapes me as both Mr. and Mrs. Knightly wrap their arms around me. Leaning in closely, Mrs. Knightly says, “Your mom used to come into The Lobster Landing and say she prayed that one day, you’d find a wonderful boy like one of my sons. It was an honor to hear such beautiful words from her. I hope my son can live up to your mom’s prayers.” She kisses the side of my cheek and guides me to the door of the Parlor.
I reach for the handle and when I look over my shou
lder, the Knightly clan is all standing behind me along with Beck, Rylee, and Mrs. Davenport.
“You’re never alone,” Mr. Knightly says. “Never, sweet girl.”
I hold back my tears, give them a soft thank you, then open the door to the Parlor, where I’m met with lit candles all along the floor and . . .
Oh.
My.
God.
My hand flies to my mouth as a snort pops out. Standing in the middle of the Parlor is Brig, dressed in a whoopie pie costume, hands and legs sticking out straight from a large foam circle. His head peeks through a cutout hole, and it is positively the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.
Tears stream down my face while I laugh.
“I told Reid this was a stupid idea,” he mutters, struggling to take off the brown foam circle. After a few swear words, he tosses it to the side, leaving him in a plain white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He pushes his hand through his hair, walks up to me, then gently brushes away my tears. “He made me wear the whoopie pie costume since I made him wear armor and ride in on a horse when apologizing to Eve.” I chuckle some more. “I should have known better.”
“It was . . . perfect.”
Taking a deep breath, he says, “Ruthie Girl, I love you.” My lip trembles, my hands shake, and he takes them in his. “After the soul-shattering curse in New Orleans, I honestly thought I’d never find the person for me. I thought I was broken. Date after date went wrong. Every attempt at finding love felt like an impossible feat. Little did I know, my soul mate was standing in front of me every goddamn day, and I was too much of a moron—as my dad likes to say—to realize it. It took a meddling family, a meddling friend, and a meddling town to pull off the blinders and show me what I’ve been missing.” He steps in closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for doubting my feelings for you, for second-guessing them, and for making you feel any less than you are. Because you’re perfect, Ruthie Girl. You’re perfect for me.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek.
Softly he says, “Please tell me I didn’t royally fuck this up, that I still have a fighting chance of proving to you that I’m the man for you.”
He can’t possibly be serious.
“Brig, I—”
“Before you answer,” he says, sounding panicky, “I want you to know, you’re by far the best sex I’ve ever had.” I snort. “You’re the funniest person I know. I’ve missed you these last few days, and I realized very quickly that I need you to constantly test me, tease me, and bring me to my knees. That I love you so goddamn much that it hurts standing in front of you right now, knowing there’s a great possibility that you’ll tell me to fuck off.”
I chuckle some more, shake my head, and drag my hand up his chest to his jaw. He’s adorable. He loves me. He wants my forgiveness.
Forgive, knowing that your man will often mess things up, simply because he's a man. Love, knowing that the man who deserves you will protect your heart and be able to say he’s sorry.
I haven’t thought of my mom’s words about love for years. But somehow, she knew I needed to hear them today.
Forgive.
Love.
“I forgive you. And I love you, Brig Knightly. I have for a very long time and I don’t think that will ever change.”
Epilogue
RUTH
“Ruthie, get over here,” Brig says, calling me from where he sits on his bed.
Ever since the grand apology—that’s what the town is calling it—pictures keep miraculously showing up in the town paper. We’ve been plastered all over as the new “it” couple. Brig’s soaking it up, rubbing it in his brothers’ faces. Man-child. Adorable though.
I’ve stayed at Brig’s apartment to focus on finalizing the last-minute needs of the Parlor. Brig might have finished the renovations with Rogan, but there was still a lot to do before opening day . . . today.
From the bathroom, I give myself one last look in the mirror and then walk over to him. I chose a yellow sundress for the occasion with brown open-toe sandals. My hair is styled around my shoulders in waves, and I applied extra makeup today, knowing there would be press at the grand opening.
Brig glances up from his phone and his eyes turn to molten lava when he takes me in. It’s one of my favorite things about Brig, now that he freely expresses himself. I love his facial expressions, especially when I walk into a room. He makes me feel like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
“Ruthie . . . hell, you look gorgeous.” He extends his hand to me and I take it, letting him spin me onto his lap where he presses his lips against my neck. “God, you smell amazing.” One of his hands starts to travel up my thigh, but I quickly swat at it.
“What did I tell you? We can’t have sex again, you promised you wouldn’t mess up my hair or makeup before the event.”
“I lied.” He chuckles against me, his mouth travelling to that spot behind my ear. Goosebumps spread over my skin and my eyes close as I allow myself to feel his lips travel over me.
“Brig, I’m serious. We have to go downstairs in a few.”
He groans against my neck and then pulls away. “Fine, but we’re celebrating tonight . . . naked.”
“As if that wasn’t already planned,” I say, winking at him.
“God, I love you.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips and then holds up his phone. “Look what Rogan sent me.”
I glance at the screen and see a two-story house in the woods, with a wraparound porch, and access to a lake . . . right at our price point.
“Just came on the market.”
“Oh my God.” I take his phone and flip through the pictures. “Needs some new paint.”
“Carpets need to be replaced,” he says.
“But the views.”
“And the solarium . . . just what you were talking about.”
I look at him, he looks at me, a slow smile pulling on his lips. “We have an appointment to see it tonight.”
“Seriously?” I ask, excitement booming inside me.
“Yeah. I think this could be it.”
My teeth roll over my bottom lip. “Are you sure this is what you want? To buy a house with me?”
“Ruthie, I’ve wanted this more than anything.”
“But we’re not married.”
He winks. “That will come. Don’t you worry.”
My heart trips.
I glance at the phone again. “We’re really going to do this?”
“Couldn’t imagine doing it with anyone else,” he says, kissing me on the cheek and then standing, while carefully setting me on the ground. He pockets his phone and takes my hand on his, bringing it to his mouth where he places a soft kiss across my knuckles. “Ready?”
I nod. “Ready.”
Together we walk down the back stairs of the garage and around to the front of the Parlor where we’re met by a crowd of people, the Knightly clan being the first in line.
Tears well in my eyes as Rylee hands me a large pair of scissors. Beck and Reid roll out a red ribbon and stand in front of the Parlor.
On a deep breath, I stand in front of the ribbon and say, “My mom dreamt of a place in this town where every generation could enjoy a cup of tea together and gab. A place where parents could connect with their children while enjoying simple tea sandwiches in comfortable surroundings. Piccadilly Parlor was her dedication to the relationship we had, and I’m so honored today to be surrounded by family and friends, to finally make my mom’s dream a reality.” I reach out and cut the ribbon just as everyone cheers.
Brig wraps his arm around my waist and kisses me on the cheek while whispering, “I’m so proud of you, Ruthie Girl. So fucking proud.” He presses one more kiss. “And your parents would be too.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that they would.
And as I watch the Knightlys filter into Piccadilly Parlor, I have an overwhelming sense that Mom and Dad are here with me today, guiding me, and connecting me with my new family, sending me into a new
pair of arms that will stay by my side forever. And when I look back at my parents’ marriage, that’s what I saw.
Dad’s waiting arms for Mom. Her deep exhaled breath of peace when he enveloped her. His secret smile and kiss on her forehead, as if that hug had made his day. The moment when Mom leaned back in Dad’s arms, looking up at him with a joy I’ve craved. And being the goof he was, he’d often arch her back over his arm and snake kisses up her neck, knowing that she both hated and loved it equally.
I still remember her telling me that the first time Dad did that it made her swoon, something she’d thought only existed in romance novels and movies. But it wasn’t. It was in his arms, in his kisses, in his deep love for her . . . and her only.
Brig says he’s been searching for that swoony feeling for a long time. Little did I know, so have I.
THE END
Or is it the end?
The Knightly brothers are heading back to New Orleans, read their adventure for free HERE
ALSO, you’re not going to have to wait long for my next release. THE SET UP is releasing shortly, a friends to lovers sports romance with ALL THE HEAT. Check out the prologue on the next page.
The Set Up
Prologue
LINCOLN
I’ve fallen victim to a heinous act.
An act so vile, so downright dirty, that I’m not sure . . .
as a son,
as a member of society,
as a twenty-year-old man . . . I will ever recover.
Ever.
I see the concern in your eyes, your hand wandering up your chest to clutch the collar of your sensible cotton shirt, scared to find out the truth.
Brace yourself against something sturdy, because what I’m about to tell you might just knock you back on your ass in horror.
*Deep breaths, everyone*
I’ve recently become the pawn of a meddling mom.
That Swoony Feeling Page 26