Chapter Nineteen
Lyric Adair engaged to Cash Curran following whirlwind romance: “When you know, you know”
by Gabby Fitz
Lyric Adair and Cash Curran are engaged!
The couple—who have sparked nothing but buzz since they started dating in September—shared the happy news on Instagram.
“There are few precious things in life that feel like they’re simply meant to be,” Adair captioned a photo of her and Curran
looking incandescently happy, the sun setting behind them. “Meeting Cash feels like one of those things. I know some people
are going to call me crazy, but when you find someone that makes you as happy as Cash makes me, it’s not a question of if,
but when. When you know, you know. So excited for our forever ?? @cashcurran”
E! has reached out to Adair and Curran’s reps for comment.
Portland Pathfinders @portlandpathfinders · 16h
Congratulations @cashcurran and @lyricadair on your engagement! If you’re looking for a wedding color palette, might we suggest
black and green?? ?????
December 17
“What do you have against March?”
“Not a damn thing,” Rosaline said, elbow deep in soapy water. “Only that it’s less than three months away. What do you have against June?”
“Nothing.” Lyric swept her pointer finger along the inside of the brownie batter bowl. She’d nearly licked it clean. “Only
that it’s six months away.”
Rosaline flicked soap bubbles at her, making her squeal. “Brat.”
Poppy chuckled and flipped off the oven light. The fudgy Symphony bar brownies—Cash’s favorite; Lyric wanted to surprise him
and had enlisted Poppy’s help—were coming along nicely. Ten more minutes and they’d be done. “She has a point, Rosaline.”
Lyric held out her arms. “Thank you.” She turned to Rosaline. “See, even Poppy agrees with me.”
“Okay, don’t go putting words in my mouth. I didn’t say that.”
“Poppy Peterson.” Rosaline shook her head and narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re my girlfriend. Aren’t you supposed to be on my side? The side of, you know, reason.”
Girlfriend. God, that was never going to get old.
Being Rosaline’s girlfriend, hearing her say it.
Nothing could stop the smile from spreading across her face.
She probably looked unhinged, standing there in the middle of Cash’s kitchen grinning for no apparent reason, but whatever.
Rosaline had known what she was getting herself into.
If she hadn’t? No take backs. Poppy Peterson didn’t come with a receipt; she was not returnable.
“I hardly think it counts as taking a side to simply point out that June is, in fact, six months away.”
“Six long months,” Lyric whined. “We don’t want to wait that long.”
Rosaline let the water out of the sink and reached for the dish towel, drying her hands. “Everyone is going to without a doubt
think you’re pregnant if you and Curran tie the knot in March.”
“We don’t care.” Between her epic eye roll and the chocolate smeared on the corner of her mouth, Lyric looked younger than
her age. “What’s that saying? Truth will out? Given enough time, everyone will see there was nothing to the rumors when I
don’t pop out a baby in nine months.” She paused. “Until the day there is something to the rumors, obviously.”
“Okay!” Rosaline clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, expression pained. “One crisis at a time, I beg of you.”
Lyric sputtered out a laugh. “I think I should be offended that you consider my having children to be a crisis, but I’m mostly
amused by that look on your face. You look constipated.”
“One, rude. Two, it’s not you having children that I consider to be a crisis; it’s the thought of you procreating with Curran
that scares the living shit out of me.”
“Hey!” Lyric and Poppy said in perfect harmony. They looked at each other and laughed.
Rosaline rolled her eyes. “Curran’s a giant. Your babies are going to be massive, Lyric.”
Cash wasn’t that tall, but . . . Poppy had seen his baby pictures. Even as a newborn, he’d looked like a butterball turkey.
“Don’t be mean to my future children.”
“I’m just worried about your . . . pelvis.”
Poppy snickered under her breath at the look of alarm splashed across Lyric’s face.
“June still satisfies your requirement of getting married during the offseason. You’ll have plenty of time for a honeymoon
before Curran has to be back at training camp at the end of July. June gives us more time to plan. Give you the wedding of
your dreams.”
“You know.” Lyric drummed her fingers against her chin. “Cash has a game against the Raiders next week. We’ll be in Vegas.
We could always take a little trip down the strip and find a twenty-four-hour chapel with an Elvis impersonator to officiate
and—”
“Absolutely not,” Rosaline growled. “Don’t even joke, Lyric. You are not Kourtney fucking Kardashian. You’re not getting hitched
in Vegas and definitely not by some two-bit Elvis impersonator.”
“But what if Vegas is my dream, Roz?” Lyric clasped her hands under her chin. “What if Cash and I want to get married at the Taco Bell Cantina? You get
Taco Bell champagne flutes and a taco twelve pack and a Cinnabon Delights cakes. They even give the bride a sauce packet bouquet
and—” Lyric’s composure cracked and she started laughing. “Oh my god, if you could see your faces right now.” She clutched
her stomach and wiped her eyes. “I can’t even.”
“Thank god,” Rosaline muttered. “I was about thirty seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.”
“Anyway.” Lyric stretched across the counter to dump the batter bowl in the sink.
“It’s not like there’s going to be much to plan.
Cash and I want to keep it small. Just family and a few close friends.
Donna, Grey, JJ,” Lyric rattled off, ticking off the names of her manager, personal assistant, and producer on her fingers.
“And on Cash’s side, he’ll want his parents there.
Poppy, obviously. A few of his teammates, I’m guessing.
DeAndre for sure and his wife, Cassidy .
. .” She shrugged. “Like I said, small. We’ll probably just do it here in the backyard—”
“Assuming it won’t be pouring rain, considering you want to get married in Portland, Oregon, in March.”
Lyric rolled her eyes. “Isn’t rain on your wedding day considered good luck?”
“Alanis Morissette thinks it’s ironic,” Poppy joked.
Rosaline laughed under her breath.
“Well, whatever it is,” Lyric said, “it’s going to be perfect because when it’s all said and done, Cash and I will be married.
If it rains, we’ll just move the ceremony inside. Easy peasy.” She rested her chin on her hand atop the counter. “I’m guessing
you’ll be Cash’s best . . . woman? That’s a thing, right?”
Poppy frowned. Sure, it was a thing, but . . . “I think DeAndre will probably be his best man.”
Cash had been DeAndre’s best man at his wedding; it made total sense that Cash would ask him. Poppy wasn’t offended in the
slightest.
“Oh.” Lyric frowned. “I guess. I just thought, with Rosaline being my maid of honor, it would be kind of nice if you were
his . . . attendant or whatever you want to call it. You know, for the processional.”
Rosaline’s head whipped to the side and she stared at Lyric, wide-eyed. “Maid of honor? Me?”
“Duh.” Lyric laughed. “You say it like it’s even a question, Roz.”
“Clearly not, considering you never actually asked.”
“I didn’t think I needed to. You’re my best friend. Who the hell else would I ask?”
“Well.” Rosaline sniffed hard, her eyes gone misty. “I’m honored.”
“Ba dum tss,” Poppy joked and Rosaline’s lips twitched.
“Honored but it doesn’t change the fact that I think March is too soon,” Rosaline said.
Lyric slumped over the counter. “Says you, who asked Poppy to move in with you after . . . remind me, how long have you been
dating?”
Rosaline pursed her lips. “We’re not talking about me and Poppy.”
“Maybe we should be.” Lyric gave Poppy a scrutinizing once-over. “So. What are your intentions with my best friend?”
“Oh my god.” Rosaline pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Stop.”
“It’s a perfectly valid question, Roz.”
“Ignore her,” Rosaline grumbled at Poppy, looking profoundly uncomfortable. “Lyric is being patently ridiculous. Par for the
course with her, truly.”
“Excuse you. I’m just looking out for you.” Lyric laced her fingers together on the counter and raised both her brows. “Whenever
you’re ready, Poppy.”
She didn’t know whether to be deeply amused or legitimately concerned by Lyric’s sudden desire to give her the third degree.
“You know, I don’t remember grilling you when you started dating my best friend. You’re kind of putting me on the spot here.”
Lyric grinned. “No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
“Touché.” Poppy huffed a laugh. “I’m assuming when you say intentions you mean other than have lots of hot, raunchy sex?”
Rosaline hid her face in her hands with a pained groan.
“I knew I liked you for a reason.” Lyric’s smile went sly. “You know, I bet we could totally get a discount on wedding stuff if we doubled. Split the cost in half, save some cash.”
Poppy was about 97 percent sure Lyric was kidding, but that didn’t stop her heart from somersaulting at the idea of one day
marrying Rosaline.
“Oh sure,” Rosaline deadpanned, hands falling and hanging limply at her sides. “Because cash is totally an object here, Miss
I was just featured in Forbes.”
“You don’t get rich by paying more than you have to. Besides, you’re the one who taught me how to manage my finances.”
Poppy cleared her throat. “It’s not a terrible idea.” She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling at the
way Rosaline froze in place, eyes big in her face that had gone slack with shock. Poppy was pretty sure she’d even stopped
breathing. “If you and Cash would just wait until June to get married—”
“Ugh.” Lyric threw her hands up. “You two are impossible! Did you rehearse this or something?”