Chapter 40
Forty
Jace
“Dude,” Brooks mutters a month later.
“What?” I say, eyes flicking from the screen up to my friend’s.
“Whipped.”
I punch his shoulder, but take the grumpy dude as how it’s intended and pocket my phone. “I’ll remind you that you’re the one who gave me the shove to pursue things with Marie.”
“So I did.” He lifts his beer bottle to his lips and drinks deeply. “Of course, I didn’t think I’d be sharing every meal with her.”
I’d get in his face if he meant those words.
But I can see his eyes, see they’re filled with devilry. And I know him well enough to understand when he’s just trying to piss me off.
Well, he’s succeeding.
“When are you heading back to France again?” I grumble.
Because it’s tradition.
“Nice try,” he mutters, picking up the remote and turning on the Eagles playoff game. “But considering you’ve offered to help me unload my storage container after the game’s done, you know that’s a pointless question.”
“Why did I agree to help you move again?”
“Because we’re friends, and friends do that shit.”
“And we’re just ignoring the fact that both of us could buy a moving company ten times over so we don’t have to do it ourselves?”
“Eh.” He shrugs and polishes off his beer. “A little manual labor will do you good if you’re bitching this much about a trunk’s worth of boxes.”
I scowl.
But because he’s right, I don’t comment further.
And by the time I polish off my beer, the Eagles have won, and we’re getting into Brooks’s SUV.
He turns out onto the street, starts winding his way through the rolling green hills, having moved into the exclusive community that abuts the Oak Ridge vineyards and estate. It’s a nice area, and there are a few empty lots left.
Maybe I can convince Marie to build something from scratch.
Some place where we can progress our relationship.
Some place we can fill with memories and…kids.
Or maybe I need to slow my roll, because I’ve only just gotten her to the point she’s comfortable with being my girlfriend.
I don’t even know if she wants kids.
Scratching that on to my mental checklist to ask the next time I have an opportunity, I tune back into the winding roads and realize?—
“Hey, this isn’t the way to the storage?—”
He pulls to a stop, glances over at me.
“That’s because I’m not going to force you to load some boxes, dumbass.” His mouth tips up. “But I’m damned glad you’re willing to because I reserve the right to torture you with it another day.”
I frown at him, having no clue what the fuck is going on. “I?—”
Something he clearly sees. “Man, look .”
Finally, I stop staring at him.
And I look, not processing what I’m seeing at first.
Marie is standing behind her car, watching us.
“What’s—”
“Go to her,” Brooks orders.
“You—” Another shake of my head. “She?—”
“She needed someone to keep you busy for a few hours. Mission accomplished,” he says quietly. “Now go enjoy whatever it is she has planned, yeah? And make sure you tell her how much you love her at the end of it.”
“I—”
But I don’t tell him to mind his own business or that I don’t love her.
Because Brooks is right.
She’s mine, and my heart is hers…and it’s been that way since she first stole my Lyft.
I pop the door, climb out, pausing before I throw it closed. “Brooks?”
I don’t miss the shadows in his eyes.
Or the way he quickly tucks them away. “Yeah?”
“Thanks,” I say. “For everything.”
He nods. I close the door.
And then I’m walking toward the woman I love.
Vaguely, I hear him turn his car around and drive off. But it’s a distant thought because every cell in my body is focused on the woman in front of me.
“Hey,” she murmurs when I get close enough to take her hand.
“Hey, cookie,” I say, drawing her against me. “Why the subterfuge?”
“Because I needed to give you something.”
“What’s that, gorgeous?”
She passes me an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Confused, but intrigued, I tear open the flap, pull out the paper, not processing what I’m reading at first.
Because it doesn’t make sense.
“I had Attie pull some strings,” she whispers. “Turns out her boss knew someone in the patent office. She managed to fast track your application.”
I can’t believe what I’m looking at.
Can’t begin to process it.
“You did this for me?”
“It was nothing, handsome,” she says. “And really, it was Attie who did most of the work.”
“It was you.” I carefully fold the paper, tuck it in my pocket, then I move closer to Marie and cup her face gently in my hands. “Thank you for opening up that gorgeous heart to me. You can’t know what it means?—”
“I do.”
Of course she does.
Because this—us—means just as much to her.
“Still,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
Her smile is so beautiful, it takes my breath away. “I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
“Let’s keep arguing about it for the rest of our lives, yeah?” I tease.
“I’d like that very much,” she whispers, sending my pulse skyrocketing because the sincerity in her tone is almost blindingly intoxicating. And I know it’s because she’s finally allowed herself to be mine. “I, um,” she murmurs. “I also had Brooks bring you here because I wanted to show you something.”
I’m not sure I can handle anything else, but still, I say, “What’s that, cookie?”
She shifts, jerking her chin behind me. “That.”
I frown, turn around, and I can’t process it at first, what I’m seeing. “I—” I clear my throat, trying my best to speak normally when my heart is thudding so hard against my ribs that the beats feel like physical blows, when my pulse is thrumming through my ears so loudly it’s making it hard to concentrate enough to form words. “H-how?” I rasp out. “Wh-why?”
Because it’s all I can get out.
Because behind me is an empty lot. And a realtor sign.
And perched on top of that sign is a smaller placard.
That reads…
SOLD.
“I know it’s a big step, a crazy step,” she says, her words rushing out in rapid succession. “But you mentioned that you liked that Brooks moved up here, and I’ve always loved it here too, always thought it would be nice to live near Chrissy and the others.” She nibbles at her lip, worry crawling into her eyes. Probably because I can’t summon any words and am just staring at her like an idiot. “So, I know this is stupid soon and probably insane, but I thought that maybe we could build something—a home—together. That we could maybe build it here.”
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Then open it again.
And then…I can’t stand it.
So, I turn on my heel and walk away.