Thanks For Last Night: A Guys Who Got Away Novel

by Lauren Blakely

  “Yes. No babies for now,” Bryn agrees, her voice final.

  Like there’s no room for argument.

  Like it’s set in stone.

  Her dress swishes again as she moves toward the door. “I should get back to the girls before they send out a search party.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, my eyes still on that floral arch. “Can’t wait to see you out there soon.”

  She leaves the room, and my last words to her feel true. I still cannot wait to marry this woman.

  But it turns out there’s a new elephant in the room, and the pack isn’t so sure where they stand when it comes to giving birth.

  “Wait.” I spin around to go after her, but the door’s already closed.

  That’s probably for the best. This isn’t the time to start long conversations about when we should take the next step in our relationship. I should just focus on the wedding, and deal with this what-if later.

  “You want me to go find her, Daddy?” Amelia asks.

  Yes.

  But no. Not now.

  Instead, I launch myself at my daughter and wrap my arms around her in a big bear hug.

  “How ’bout we spend some time just you and me before you go to hang out with the girls?” I reply, and as we play animal trivia and discuss Amelia’s latest favorite books, I’m as present as I can be.

  But all the while, her question replays in my mind.

  When are you going to have a baby?

  I thought I knew the answer, but it turns out, I don’t.

  And that conversation that should have been quite easy?

  It’s really damn difficult.

  23

  Ransom

  I am most definitely a mantra guy.

  But I don’t need a mantra to tell me this: My wife-to-be is an undeniable babe. Also, she owns both my heart and my dick, because both are enjoying the photo of her on my screen. The light-blue dress clings to her curves in a way that is almost indecent.

  Almost.

  After all, indecent wasn’t the dress code for this afternoon’s wedding.

  Fitz gives a low, appreciative whistle as he sidles closer to me in the private bar area and glances at my phone. “No idea how such a hot babe wound up with you, Ransom.”

  “I could say the same thing about yourself.”

  “It’s true. My man is hot AF,” Fitz says just as Dean joins us and slides his arm around his husband’s waist.

  “You two are disgustingly in love,” I say dryly.

  “Just like you,” Dean replies.

  I raise my glass. “Madly and passionately. I am well and truly committed.”

  “Did someone say you need to be committed?”

  I grin at the sound of Logan’s voice and swivel my stool to face him and Oliver as they walk into the bar.

  “Very funny.” Fitz stands and rolls up the sleeves on his button-down shirt before opening his arms out wide. “C’mere, asshole. Give me your last hug as a free man.”

  “I’m getting married, not going to jail.” Logan laughs and claps him on the back, then slides onto the stool next to mine as he signals to the bartender for a round of drinks.

  But there’s something slightly off about him. This doesn’t seem like the same man who gave me a pep talk about marriage all those months ago in the park.

  Interesting.

  “Where’s your lovely little lady?” Dean asks Logan.

  “I just dropped Amelia off with the girls,” Logan replies as the bartender places five beers in front of us and we raise them in a toast.

  “To Logan, the man of the hour,” I call out. “May you enjoy a long and happy marriage. And may said marriage not impede on your ability to commit to paintball or laser tag or kickball.”

  “Hear, hear,” calls Fitz, and after our glasses clink together, Logan takes a sip.

  A long sip.

  Then another one.

  “You okay there, man?” I ask, setting my beer on the counter.

  “Yeah. Fine. I’m good.” He nods. “I’m okay.”

  “You sure?” I narrow my brows.

  He nods, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Do you think he’s fine?” Oliver deadpans.

  “I think he might not be fine,” Dean replies. “But cut him some slack. It’s not every day you get hitched.”

  “It’s not.” I shake my head, checking out the scene, kind of amazed. “Whoever thought this would happen? All of us studs, married or getting married.”

  “I, too, am amazed you’ve found someone to put up with you.” Oliver needles me, but his eyes are on Logan.

  Mine are too.

  Is he simply a bit nervous? Maybe. He’s been married once before. Perhaps he’s worried that the second time around won’t be a charm.

  Nah. I dismiss the idea with another sip of beer. Logan’s head over heels for Bryn. No way that could be it.

  “Have you and Teagan set a wedding date yet?” Fitz asks me, changing the subject.

  “This summer.” My shoulders pull back a little in pride. “We want to have a baby soon, so we thought we should tie the knot first.”

  “Congrats, bro. Can’t wait to meet the little Norths.” Fitz holds out a fist to bump, and I meet it.

  “How did you know that was what you wanted?” Logan asks, intensely serious.

  I almost spit my beer across the counter. What?

  “Dude, that’s a little out of the blue.” I laugh. “But to answer your question, we both want kids. Always have. I love my sisters, and I’m super close to them, and Teagan wants a family too. We really want to start one together.”

  “And you aren’t worried that it will disturb the balance of what you already have?” Logan asks, and a light goes on in my head.

  Ding-ding-ding.

  We have a winner.

  Logan wants another kid.

  Or maybe Bryn does.

  Shit!

  Or maybe they’re already pregnant.

  That’s it. It has to be it. What else could have him so tied up in knots on a day I know he’s been itching for?

  Next to me, Oliver’s phone buzzes, and he peers at a text.

  His eyes spark, then he says, “I need to nip up to my room. Grab something Summer needs. Be right back.”

  He drains the last of his beer and slips his cell into his pocket, then takes off for the elevator bank like there’s a herd of wildebeests on his tail.

  I chat with the guys some more, but Logan still seems out of sorts.

  I flash back again to Fitz’s wedding, to the day when Logan gave me those frank words—words I needed to hear.

  Maybe he needs the same—a friend to give it to him straight.

  I clap my hand on his shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy. And whatever’s on your mind right now, I know you and Bryn will work it out. You’re going to be a great husband.”

  “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  I lean closer, speaking quietly, “You’re a great dad too.”

  He gives me a grateful nod. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

  I shrug. “I’m only saying it because it’s true.”

  As we finish our beers, I hope that my words give him the comfort and confidence he needs.

  Just as he did for me several months ago.

  Because that’s what friends do.

  24

  Summer

  There’s no shame in ogling my husband.

  Not as he’s coming out of the pool, those tight Speedos clinging to every bit of his body and revealing everything—and I do mean everything.

  Not as he steps out of the shower in the morning.

  And certainly not an hour before the wedding when he steps out of the elevator in that white button-down shirt and those pressed tan pants, his eyes screaming sex.

  “You wanted me?” he asks, gesturing to his phone.

  “I do. It’s an emergency so important I had to have you meet me here.” My eyes lust over his face then his body as the doors clo
se behind him.

  “What kind of emergency?” He slips the phone away and steps closer, a playful look in his eyes. “Whatever could you possibly need?”

  I grab his hand and yank him toward our hotel room. “You.”

  And thank the Lord for vacations and this perfect man of mine, because a midday O should be on every wife’s wish list.

  “What brought that on?” Oliver asks a satisfying length of time later as he buttons up his fly. “Not that I’m complaining. I will never, ever complain about pre-wedding sex. Or any sex with you, for that matter.”

  I shrug. “Can’t a woman just enjoy her husband’s body every now and then?”

  “Absolutely she can. In fact, if we ever do a vow renewal, we should include it as part of the official contract.”

  “Thou shalt have sex whenever thy wife wishes.” I wrap my arms around his neck and try to comb his just-fucked hair into submission.

  “Thou shalt deliver multiple Os to thy wife whenever and wherever thou can,” he murmurs, and his mouth glides over mine in a kiss that I feel everywhere—my lips, my chest, then lower between my legs.

  But before I can lose myself in contemplation of round two, I take his hand and use all my willpower to walk us back out into the corridor so we can support our friends before their special moment.

  “How’s Logan?” I ask as we stroll along the hall. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as excited to get married as he is.”

  “Hey! I’ll have you know I was desperate to put a ring on your finger.”

  “Present company excluded, of course.”

  “Of course.” He stops and pulls me close, our bodies flush. But his eyes cloud over, and he bites down on his lip.

  “What is it?”

  He glances toward Bryn’s door, three rooms down from where we stand, then back to me. “Does Bryn seem okay to you?”

  “Okay?” What’s he talking about?

  “Has she been sick perhaps?” He clicks his fingers together. “Drinking. Did she have any cocktails at dinner last night?”

  I shake my head. “She wanted to avoid a hangover.”

  “Has she had any wine this morning at all, then? Some champagne perhaps?”

  “No. But it’s barely twelve.” I step back and fold my arms across my chest. “What’s going on with you, Oliver?”

  He winces. “It’s not what’s going on with me. It’s what’s going on with them.”

  I wave my hand, encouraging him to continue. “Out with it, lover.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Look, Logan said something, and . . . I think they might be pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?” I widen my eyes. Could that be true?

  I mean, technically, of course it could. And while Bryn has told me that they’re not looking to expand their family any time soon, I do understand that a penis plus a vagina can equal babies, even with protection.

  But the odds seem so slim.

  That’s how I’ve always felt when it came to Oliver and me—we use protection, and so we’re safe. I’m on the pill. We won’t end up pregnant.

  “Summer?” Oliver steps closer again and places his hands on my shoulders.

  “Sorry. Lost in thought.” I dismiss the idea and focus on the issue at hand. “Actually, come to think of it, Bryn did look a little pale this morning after she came back from Logan’s room.”

  “Logan’s room?”

  “She said she had to get something from her luggage . . .” But the bride wasn’t supposed to see the groom before the wedding. What if that wasn’t where she went at all? What if she was worried that the walls of her hotel room would be an ineffective barrier when it came to hiding her morning sickness from her two best friends?

  “Wow! I mean, that’s amazing news. I can’t wait to congratulate them,” I finally say, and I mean it. I’m thrilled that a baby is in the cards for these two people who are simply head over heels for each other, and who already ace the parenting game.

  Oliver nods. “Logan’s an amazing dad, and Bryn is great with Amelia. They’ll be perfect.”

  “They really will.” I grin. “Oh, I am going to buy the cutest little onesies for their bub! And socks. Baby socks are so sweet!”

  “Baby socks?” Oliver laughs. “I did not know of your penchant for small footwear.”

  “Well, let me tell you that baby socks are some of the teensiest, tiniest, cutest clothing items known to man.” I nod, then pause. “But I guess this means they won’t be coming to Costa Rica with us in the summer.”

  Oliver frowns. “No. Probably not.”

  Down the hall, a door swings open. A couple walks toward us, his arm tight around her waist. They can’t seem to tear their eyes off each other, and clearly she hasn’t bothered to hide the just-fucked hair on her man—he’s wearing it loud and proud, like he wants to proclaim their recent rendezvous to the world.

  “They look like us,” Oliver whispers in my ear as the elevator dings and they step inside.

  “They do. I’m sure we’ve looked like that on so many of our vacations,” I say, but my mind is a whir, like the reels on a slot machine. “Can we talk seriously for a moment?”

  Oliver glances up and down the now empty hall. “Here?”

  I grab his hand, lead him to our room, and pull my key card from my pocket—because what could improve a hot AF dress more than pockets?—and slide it over the keypad.

  Oliver slips in beside me, and we walk out to the balcony, where the fresh sea air washes over me like a balm—always moving and free.

  “Are you okay?” He presses a hand to the bare skin above the low back of my dress.

  “Yes.” I turn to face him. “Look, Logan and Bryn getting pregnant has me thinking.”

  “Oh.” He nods, and I rush to shake my head before he gets the wrong idea.

  “I know we’ve spoken before about having babies, and we said we didn’t want them just now.” I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “But I don’t think I want them . . . ever.”

  I search Oliver’s face for some sign—some indication that this is either the best or worst news he’s heard all morning.

  He’s blank as a stone.

  I take a deep breath and continue. “I just . . . I love our life. I love our dates and our time together and our vacations. I love you, and you and me—”

  “And our impromptu midday sex?” A twinkle sparks in his eyes.

  “I absolutely love our impromptu midday sex,” I agree. “And I love children. I adore Amelia, and I’m sure I’ll love playing Auntie Summer to Logan and Bryn’s new little one whenever he or she comes along too. But as long as you’re on the same page as me, I would be completely okay with not having children for the rest of our lives.”

  Oliver grins. “I would be more than okay with that.” He places a hand under my chin, tilting my face up until just a whisper and a kiss separate our lips. “I have everything I need with you.” He kisses my lips, his leg wedged between mine, our arms wrapped around each other, and it feels so right. I love this—I love us. And I definitely don’t feel the need to add a child to an already perfect cocktail of life.

  Oliver’s phone vibrates against my thigh. I groan against his mouth.

  “It can’t be that important.” He kisses me again, but when the vibrating continues, I pull back.

  He fishes the cell from his pocket. “It’s Logan. I should probably go.”

  “Same.” I peer at the wall as if I can see right through to Bryn’s room a few doors down. “It’s nearly ceremony time.”

  “See you out there, cupcake.” Oliver kisses me once more, and we go our separate ways, but as I walk, my steps are somehow lighter. Maybe that was a decision I didn’t know I needed to make until now, but it most definitely feels like the right one.

  I knock on the door to Bryn’s suite, and when she opens it, the sight steals my breath. Wow.

  “Do I look okay?” Bryn runs her hands down the sides of the white gown that hugs the top half of her body and des
cends into some kind of flowing magic at the bottom. It’s sexy yet sweet, beachy yet bombshell—perfect for a Cancun wedding.

  “Okay?” I echo. “You put the A in amazing. Logan is going to lose his mind.”

  “I hope so.” She smiles, and I step inside and close the door behind me.

  I wave to Teagan and Amelia on the balcony, then turn back to the woman who has become one of my closest friends in the entire world. Perhaps it’s good that the others are outside—there are only ten minutes until we need to go downstairs, but this will give us time to chat.

  And from the look in Bryn’s eyes, I think we need to do that.

  “Bryn, sweetie, is everything okay?” I ask.

  “It is.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m marrying the man of my dreams.”

  “I know. But you seem kind of . . . distant this morning,” I say, easing into the subject gently. If she doesn’t want to tell me, I’m not going to press.

  “You noticed, huh?” She heaves a sigh and walks over to the chaise lounge by the window, resting her hands on the frame. “Honestly, this is eating me up. I need to tell you something about Logan and me.” She glances out at Amelia and Teagan, then back to meet my gaze. “It’s about having a baby.”

  I can’t hold back anymore. “Congratulations!” I squee and rush to hug her. “This is the best news!”

  “Pardon?” she asks, and I pull away so I can see her face and the excitement I know must be there.

  “Sorry—Oliver told me. I guess Logan must have told him,” I say, grinning like a fool.

  “Told him what exactly?” Bryn steps back and folds her arms, and uh-oh. This doesn’t look like the face of a woman about to confess her glowing-with-child status.

  “About . . . you being pregnant,” I say, but as Bryn’s eyebrows draw into an even deeper frown, I know without question—

  She is not having a baby.

  And that means the boys have the wrong end of the stick.

  25

  Bryn

  From the moment I saw the dress, I knew.

  This was it.

  This was the outfit I would wear when I married the love of my life.