Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
I nod and squeeze his hand and give him every indication I can of my answer before he even asks the question.
It’s literally all I can do to wait for him to have his moment.
“Be mine forever,” he finally says. “Be my best friend in life, my partner in crime…be my wife.”
“One hundred times yes,” I say. He scoops me up into his arms and tucks my lips to his ear.
It’s the perfect proposal. The perfect place. The perfect man.
I laugh as the soft flesh of my lips skims across his ear. “No one else is crazy enough to take me.”
“There might be,” he corrects, giving Cap a jerk of his head.
Cap nods despite not knowing what we’re talking about, and it makes me smile even bigger.
“I just got here first.”
When the room stops spinning and I finally find my feet, I know who I need to see, and I need to see her right now.
She’s been there for me since teatime and sleepovers, and I want her to be the first to know now.
“Can we go tell Emory?” I ask, glancing down at the twinkling cushion cut—massive—stone on my hand once more.
Junior doesn’t disappoint.
“Of course.”
I take off at a run, shoving people out of my way as I go, and likely committing minor assault on several pregnant women.
I don’t slow down until I barrel through the door to Emory’s room and hold up my hand in victory.
“I’m engaged!” I shriek, to which Quincy responds with a smile.
Emory’s happiness is a little less obvious, but evident all the same.
“Congratulations,” she groans into a yell. “I’m crowning. Now get the hell out!”
So, I do.
I wait in the lounge with my fiancé and Cap, Emory’s family and friends, and even my brother and Rhonda.
Everyone’s here in New York City for the big event, but I’m the luckiest one of all.
Because at the end of the day, when Hudson Blair Black screams her first hello to the world, I’ve increased the size of my family by not one, but two.
Cap
The gang is all here, and as of today, we’ve officially added one more to our crazy group.
Hudson Blair Black. A little beauty who is a mere two hours old. She has a head full of hair that matches her last name to a T, and her eyes are so big and blue and gorgeous that I predict they will one day equate to nothing but trouble for a lot of men.
Mostly her father.
Quince stares down at his daughter with nothing but unconditional love shining from his every fucking pore. Just born and she already has her soft-hearted daddy wrapped around her tiny finger.
Emory sits in the hospital bed, gazing up at her husband and daughter, and looking exactly like what I’d think a fucking Kardashian would look like after giving birth. Full face of makeup, some kind of fancy gown thingie that I fucking know didn’t come from the hospital, and her hair is damn near runway ready.
Fucking women.
I love them—looking at them, smelling them, tasting them. I especially love making them come.
But do I understand them when it comes to anything other than pleasure?
Not even a little.
Truth is, I haven’t even tried for the last decade or so. I’ve been more than content to fly by the seat of my dick, enjoy the company of a woman for a short time, and move on with my life.
I’m too busy to get locked down in some kind of soul-sucking, life-ruining monogamous love story like Quince and Trent, and I’ve never really been the kind of man who pictures marriage and babies and shit in my future—I get bored when things become too predictable.
“Look at how little she is, Trent,” Greer says, her voice laced with wonder and awe and a whole bunch of other shit women tend to have when looking at babies and puppies and fucking kittens.
Trent, the lovesick bastard, smiles. “She’s perfect.”
I watch them share a quiet look laced with silent words that we’re not privy to, and whatever it is makes my heart clench inside my chest.
What the fuck is that about?
I rub at my chest and squint.
Something’s got to be coming from the ventilation system.
Carbon monoxide maybe?
Because for as willingly as my two best guy friends are throwing in the towel on their freedom, their fucking bachelor life, and settling down with women who have captured their hearts, I can’t even fathom that kind of love.
And I don’t want to.
In the span of three hours, I’ve witnessed—and helped because I’m an awesome friend—one of my best friends get engaged to a woman he once hated with every ounce of his being. And I’ve watched another become a father.
It’s crazy. They’re crazy.
I’m, without a doubt, the sanest human being in this room.
Well, me and the handsome fuck who just walked in.