Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Lovely.” The redhead beams. “And lovely to hear. It’s so nice when a man knows what his lady’s worth. She’ll be wearing it every day for the rest of her life, after all. Over forty years, it’ll work out to just a few bucks a day.”
I arch a wry brow. “You’re good at this. You make spending a fortune on a tiny ring seem like a logical decision.”
She grins. “Only because I believe in love.” She lifts her left hand, showcasing a sparkly diamond of her own. “My husband and I just celebrated our third anniversary. Best decision I ever made. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be, and I want everyone else to feel the same way. Friendships and family love are great, but there’s nothing quite like finding your person.”
I nod, wondering if maybe this isn’t so crazy, after all. Harlow is my person and I’m hers. We’ve both fought it for years, but deep down I think we’ve suspected that we’re perfect for each other for a long time.
So maybe I should buy this ring and just hold on to it for a month or two, long enough for a proposal to seem a little rushed, but exciting, instead of a complete WTF situation.
“Wrap it up,” I say. “I’ll take it.”
“Brilliant!” She turns, collecting two small plastic glasses of pale, yellow liquid and setting one in front of me. “It’s apple cider. We’re not allowed to have champagne open on the floor, but a toast is a toast.” She lifts her glass. “To you and your future bride. Here’s to a magical wedding and a beautiful life filled with love and happiness.”
I touch my plastic glass to hers and down my cider like a shot.
Then I pay for the ring at the jewelry counter before heading to the main checkout to settle up for the rest of the gifts. By the time I leave the store, my bank account is fifteen grand lighter than it was before, but I don’t feel anxious or worried about it. After all, the ring is fully refundable, and I have ninety days to get Harlow on board with forever.
Surely, if I keep delivering orgasms like I did last night, and charming her extended family while I’m at it, she’ll see I can be trusted with more than her body.
Not that I’d ever pass up a chance to get naked with her gorgeous self, but I want more than fun in the bedroom.
I want her heart, and I want to give her mine, and that doesn’t feel crazy.
It feels right.
I spent my childhood working through my fair share of bitterness about marriage and “true love.” Mom and Dad were a hot mess together and a disaster as parents. I honestly wasn’t sad to see Mom go when she left to study art in Paris and never came back. I hated that it hurt Evie—she was too young to understand that it was for the best that our not-at-all-maternal mother had hit the road—but I didn’t miss hearing my parents scream at each other all night.
As I entered my teen years, I had the chance to observe happier marriages in my friends’ houses, but I remained skeptical until college, when I fell in love myself, and realized how amazing it could be. That kind of bond, that kind of safety and happiness and the strength that comes from knowing someone who cares about you has your back, is worth the risk of things going sour.
Especially if you know the person, inside and out, before you dive in.
Harlow may have lashed out at me with that quick wit and sharp tongue of hers for years, but she was never cruel, even when she could have been, even when I probably deserved it for being a bossy, controlling asshole. And she’s been there for Evie, without hesitation, any time my sister has needed her.
She is a devoted, loyal, and passionate friend. She’s generous and thoughtful, funny as hell, secretly sweet, and such a unique mix of strong and achingly vulnerable that I can’t imagine meeting someone like her again.
She’s special.
I want to be there to watch her crush the bad guys with math and to lift her up when she’s feeling low. I want to celebrate her victories and mourn her losses and share everything in between.
I want to be…hers.
But thankfully, I still have enough common sense to know better than to slap a bow on myself before I head up to our room. I still earn a raised brow from Harlow at the three giant bags in my arms, but I explain them away with a smile. “Presents for the family. And to celebrate my new job.”
Her eyes go wide as she turns to peer at me over the back of the couch. “What? You got it? They told you already?”