Thanks For Last Night: A Guys Who Got Away Novel

by Lauren Blakely

And that was the absolute highlight of the date with my husband.

  * * *

  Well, that, and what happened next when we went up to our apartment. But that’s a tale for our eyes only.

  * * *

  I loved our latest date, and it reminded me that we will always be us. With our busy lives, all we need is the simplest of things—like a pole, some grilled cheese, and our favorite watering hole—and we reconnect.

  * * *

  In the meantime, I will leave you with this—what walks like a duck and has feathers like a duck, but talks like something else entirely?

  * * *

  You’ll find out tomorrow when I pick you up after work for our next date.

  * * *

  With all my love,

  * * *

  Your Wife

  Dear Hilarious, Sexy, Brilliant, Fantastic Wife of Mine,

  * * *

  Yes, let’s talk about dating.

  * * *

  You, my cupcake, are a pro.

  * * *

  You are a masterful dater.

  * * *

  But this should come as no surprise. Haven’t you been cooking up brilliant schemes for years?

  * * *

  You have, and let’s be honest—this bloody fantastic union we’ve got going on is your greatest scheme yet.

  * * *

  And I’m so damn grateful you’re my brilliant schemer.

  * * *

  I have all the evidence one could want attesting to your date-planning skills.

  * * *

  You made me like a candle-making class.

  * * *

  That should have been impossible.

  * * *

  But you took me to one, and that night you introduced me to all the delights of candle wax.

  * * *

  Brilliant and beautiful—that’s the woman I married.

  * * *

  Do you know what else I’ve learned since I’ve dated you?

  * * *

  I’ve learned to never say never.

  * * *

  Never close the door on a crazy class, because the next fantastic night could be right around the corner.

  * * *

  Though, admittedly, I never thought our next date would be an art class.

  * * *

  You already know how I feel about classes, cupcake.

  * * *

  And a how-to-paint-a-bird class?

  * * *

  Oi.

  * * *

  But I went because I adore you.

  * * *

  And because I knew we’d make it ours.

  * * *

  Your painted swan was horrible. Mine was infinitely worse.

  * * *

  You told me as much, and we cracked up, laughing over our hideous swans.

  * * *

  And I love laughing with you.

  * * *

  That’s how you made a wretched class fun.

  * * *

  You know what else is fun? Kissing you like crazy in Central Park.

  * * *

  We did that the next day in a do-over of one of the best dates I’ve ever had—swan boats.

  * * *

  The vendor did give us the evil eye when we put down our deposit, didn’t he? Pretty sure he recognized us as the scofflaws we are. But so worth it. Because recreating that kiss with you in the middle of the lake on a swan boat was simply magic.

  * * *

  I get lost in your kisses. I forget about time and place and reason— everything but you.

  * * *

  Later, after we left the park, I forgot the world again when I took you to bed.

  * * *

  Something I always want to do with you.

  * * *

  I crave you, love you, adore you.

  * * *

  Let’s toast to new date nights, and new places to vacation, and new awful classes that we have a blast taking, and messing up, and laughing at.

  * * *

  The world is ours to explore.

  * * *

  The day you decided to make me your sexy letter-writing partner-in-crime was the best day of my life.

  * * *

  Your Sexy (Sexiest!) Ex-Boyfriend

  I flick the piece over to Matthew’s inbox and write Summer back with one word.

  Perfect.

  When the clock strikes five, Bryn calls, demanding I meet her right away at Gin Joint.

  I oblige, zipping over to Chelsea, finding my bestie waiting on a plush sapphire-blue lounge.

  She pops up, grinning wildly, and I know why. She texted me a week ago when it happened, and now I get to gawk.

  “Show me,” I demand.

  She flashes me her ring, a stunning emerald-cut diamond, gorgeous and so damn big. “They say size doesn’t matter, but when it comes to diamonds and dicks, I say it does,” I declare.

  Bryn laughs deeply, pats my chest before wrapping me in a hug, and says, “And in friendship.”

  “Wait, are you saying the size of my boobs matters?”

  “No, your heart, sweetie.” Breaking the embrace, she taps my breastbone. “Your big, soft, mushy heart.”

  I let go, bring a finger to my lips, and say, “Shh. Don’t tell anyone.”

  I grab a drink, and we catch up. She tells me everything about her vacation to Canada, and I tell her about dating Ransom, and when I ask when she’s getting married, she says in the winter in Cancun.

  “You’re coming, right?” she asks.

  “Destination wedding? I’m there.”

  “And you’ll be with Ransom?”

  I tense, all my muscles going tight. My throat is dry. Will I be with Ransom then? I hope so. But even if we’re not, that won’t change anything about my friendship with Bryn.

  “I plan to. But I’ll be there, with or without him.”

  The words come more easily than I could have imagined before taking a risk with Ransom. It feels right to say them.

  More so, it feels right to believe them.

  Later that night, Ransom comes over, and when I yank open the door, I feel different.

  Freer.

  Like a weight has been lifted.

  Truth be told, the weight’s been coming off for some time. Maybe the last of it is gone now. Or maybe voicing my certainty to Bryn made me take notice.

  I pull him inside, needing to touch him, unable to resist him. I plant a hot, sensual kiss on his lips, sighing against him, savoring the taste of him.

  When we break the kiss, he gives me a curious look. “You’re in an interesting mood today.”

  I’m fluttery. I’m tingling. And I should feel nervous, but I don’t. I’m ready to say the words filling up my heart.

  “It’s because I’m falling in love with you,” I say, and for a split second, I brace for the pain or the worry to slam into me.

  Neither does.

  Instead, Ransom smiles, slides a hand around my neck, and meets my gaze. “Oh, sunshine, I’m definitely already in love with you.”

  21

  Ransom

  Christmas Eve

  * * *

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t having flashbacks.

  As I pick up the velvet box, weigh it in my hand, then slide it into my pocket, I remember the last time I did this.

  There are moments when I think I must be insane to try it again.

  But as soon as those thoughts land in my head, I brush them away. I’m not interested in the old mottos anymore. I don’t cling to them for safety.

  And I don’t want them to trip me up.

  If I’m insane, it’s a good kind of crazy.

  When I go to Teagan’s home that night to spend Christmas Eve together, I stay in the moment.

  And the moment includes kissing her, drinking hot chocolate, and listening to cheesy holiday music as snow falls outside her picturesque reading nook window.

  Then it’s time for stockings, and I tell her to grab the one I hung for her.
<
br />   When she dips her hand inside and pulls out the box, she shoots me a curious look—a rather intrigued one.

  My heart pounds against my ribs, thumping out a potent rhythm of hope.

  Of second chances.

  And most of all, of yeses.

  “Ransom,” she says, her voice choked with emotion.

  And in a flash, I move in front of her and get down on one knee.

  Hope floods me.

  Nerves fill me.

  And love guides me.

  “Teagan King, the last six months with you have been wildly fun, incredibly sexy, intensely romantic, and filled with so much love that each day I wonder how it’s possible to feel so much. But it must be, because it’s happening.” I stop to take a breath—there’s so much more to say. “I want to spend all my days with you. I’m in love with you, and I love you, and I want to sing ‘Summer Nights’ with you and down chocolate milkshakes together and go out with our friends and play laser tag and stay in bed and curl up with each other. With you, only you, always you.”

  She brings her hand to her mouth, gasping as she nods vigorously and keeps nodding like she can’t stop.

  Like she’s as thrilled, delighted, and absolutely happy as I am.

  “I would love to marry you,” she says, and I take the box and open it, then slide a diamond solitaire onto her ring finger, gazing at it and loving the way it looks on my fiancée.

  This time, this love will last.

  All the walls have come down. I’ve pushed past all my fears. And I’m stepping into a new future with the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  Two months later, we’re in Cancun, happy as clams, ready for Logan to marry Bryn, knowing we’ll be the next in our group to say our I dos. Yeah, all my single soldiers have fallen.

  Fallen happily into their forevers.

  22

  Logan

  February

  * * *

  Some things in life are easy, some are damn easy, and some are so easy you barely even have to think.

  Choosing baseball over basketball? Simple.

  Lining up for hours to source the perfect piece of kitty couture for Amelia to dress Queen LaTofu in? No question.

  But this, right here, right now? Standing in front of the mirror and adjusting my bow tie before I speak the most important words I’ll ever say in my life?

  It’s the simplest thing of all.

  Because loving Bryn is easy.

  It’s never been hard. It’s always been the most natural thing in the world. We fit together so damn well, and marrying the love of my life is the most honest thing I could do.

  Because that’s how we are together—we’re honest with each other, all the damn time.

  My heart was aligned with hers the moment we locked eyes over that Snoopy lunch box.

  And I can’t wait to make it official.

  I give my bow tie one last tweak. Official indeed.

  “Dad, did you know elephants are pregnant for nearly two years?”

  I blink and turn to my daughter sitting on the hotel bed, her legs swinging back and forth against the white bedspread. “I did not know that.”

  “They are. And when they give birth, their entire herd gathers around to protect the mom and new baby from . . .” She pauses, taking her time with the next word. “Preda . . . pred-a-tors.” She nods with the authority of an expert, which she just so happens to be. It takes a lot to beat Amelia at animal trivia.

  “That’s pretty smart of the pack to look out for the baby like that.” I crouch down beside her and take her small hands in mine, meeting her eyes, trying to understand my little girl. Despite her mother remarrying, and despite Bryn and I having been together for almost two years, I need to make sure that this elephant diversion isn’t due to any last-minute nerves on Amelia’s part. “Sweetie pie, are you ready for today?”

  She nods, zero indecision in her eyes. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  I grin. “Well, if you did, I’d answer that with a big yes. I am, indeed, ready to marry Bryn, and to do so with my brilliant and beautiful daughter standing by my side.”

  She gives me that cheeky little smile that melts me every time, and this kid. I’m so damn lucky to have her.

  “Then I’m ready too. Also, I really want to have that cake.”

  “You and me both.”

  There’s a rap on the door of the suite. “Knock, knock!” Bryn calls as she swings it open.

  “Hey!” I spin around and cover my eyes before she can enter the room. “I’m not supposed to see you before the wedding.”

  “Well, face the window. I forgot my something blue.”

  “And you couldn’t have Teagan get it for you?” But there’s a smile on my lips. Because this is us—real and making our own rules. If things don’t work, we change them—like Bryn did with her job, like I did in managing my time between my work, my daughter, and the woman I’m about to call my wife.

  “My something blue is personal, thank you very much. And besides, my suitcase is a mess.” I hear shuffling as Bryn riffles through her luggage, but I don’t peek.

  “I’m glad you’re both here,” Amelia says, sounding more sage than a nearly-nine-year-old should.

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” I ask, a smile in my voice.

  “Because there’s something I want to ask you.”

  The swish of material stops, and Bryn asks, “What can we do for you?”

  “When are you going to have a baby?”

  I stop breathing—I have to, the way my chest constricts.

  What?

  “Sorry, sweetie?” Bryn asks, apparently doubting her hearing as much as I am, because what did Amelia just say?

  “Well, you two are getting married. And after people get married, they have babies. It’s just what happens.”

  I finally find my voice. “It’s not what happens with everyone.”

  “Yeah. It doesn’t happen with everyone,” Bryn echoes.

  “It’s what happened with Isla’s mommies when they got married,” Amelia responds, and the story of her bestie’s new little brother does ring a bell. “And you guys already have me. I’d be a great help with a baby, just like Isla is.”

  “I know you would, sweetheart.” I swallow around the golf-ball-sized lump in my throat.

  “The best,” Bryn agrees.

  “So? Does that mean you’ll have one soon?” Amelia presses, and I should call Oliver and tell him to recruit my daughter because she could put some serious pressure on a client. She’d be terrifying in a court of law.

  Right now, thanks to this adorable interrogator, the bow tie around my neck has never felt tighter.

  Bryn and I have discussed the possibility of children. Of course we have. You don’t go from “Let’s get naked” to “How ’bout we get married?” without some important stuff in between.

  But when it comes to the question of kids, we’d agreed to table it. It wasn’t a no—and it wasn’t a yes. It was a “not now, but maybe someday” situation.

  After all, Bryn adores Amelia. I adore Amelia. We moved in together and planned a wedding, and that makes my heart full to bursting. Why would I push for anything more?

  “Amelia, sweetheart, you would be an excellent big sister,” Bryn starts, and her soft footsteps pad closer to the bed where my daughter sits. “But a marriage isn’t about having babies. It’s about commitment. It’s about promising to love each other for the rest of our lives.”

  I peek through my fingers and out the window. Palm trees dance in the gentle breeze. Waves softly whisper to the shore. Attendants string flowers around the wire arch under which we’ll say our vows in a few hours’ time.

  I’ve been looking forward to standing there for weeks. Months, even.

  And Bryn’s right. This day is about us, and the promise we’ll make to each other in front of the people in our lives who do mean the most to us—including Amelia.

  Especially Amelia.

  But som
ething about Bryn’s words has me thinking. Before she came along, I didn’t think I had room in my life to care for anyone like I did my daughter. Within days, my fiancée turned that notion on its head.

  What if having another kid is like that? What if it’s something I didn’t know I needed but I’ve been missing all along?

  “So, no babies for now,” Amelia says, and I focus on my daughter and the here and now.