Chapter 79 Elliot #2
Stuart gets to his feet, and before my very eyes, the nineties flow up through the concrete garage floor and take him over.
Not going to lie. It’s a lot. He’s stirring the pot, doing this weird little dad side shuffle, and by the look of things, flirting with the idea of doing the running man.
His face is contorted from the intensity of his concentration.
I can barely breathe. I’m wheezing. Laughing so much that I’m coughing and snorting.
Too helpless even to save him from himself.
“What?” he demands. “This is how we did it!”
Thank God Siri comes to her senses with the next song and we find ourselves back in the safety of the twenty-twenties.
“Love” by Lana Del Rey subtly permeates every inch of the room.
Steady syncopated drums pulse and reedy strings tug at my heart, slowing the beat and then speeding it up as Stuart steps into my space and loops my arms around his neck.
Laughter splutters and fades when our bodies make contact.
We move slowly together. He leads. I follow.
Hard muscle grinds against me. Giving way and then pulling me closer.
Closer and closer until there’s no space between us.
Everything around us fades. The room slowly spins.
I close my eyes and my soul starts to sway.
Loosening things that should be tight. Pulling them out of my chest and tying them into a tight knot.
Tying them around me and around Stuart. Tighter and tighter until we stop being two separate things. We start being one.
My lips rest where his neck and shoulder meet.
Not kissing. Just resting. Just living. His hands are on my back.
My neck. My hair. They move slowly, but I feel them everywhere.
A velvet voice tells tales of vintage music, youth, and confusion.
At some point, it stops being a song. It starts being a feeling.
A feeling of falling. Spinning and swirling.
A feeling of comfort and going crazy. A feeling of love.
A feeling of having everything you’ve ever wanted in the palms of your hands.
I open my eyes. Stuart’s are still closed. Face relaxed. Lashes knitted together. He looks peaceful. Blissed out. Completely content but different somehow. He doesn’t look like now. He doesn’t look like this time and this place.
He looks like the rest of my life.
I don’t think it through. I don’t need to. I know what I know. I lean on my toes so my lips brush against his ear.
“Marry me, Stuart,” I whisper.
His shoulders tense, eyes flying open. Crystalline water ripples, inviting me in. I don’t hesitate. I dive in.
I fall to my knees. Not one knee. There’s no gallant knight here. There’s only a boy and the Daddy he loves. I sink onto both knees and kneel at Stuart’s feet. Where it’s right. Where I belong.
I look up at him beseechingly, stretching my eyes and giving him my best puppy-dog eyes, clasping my hands tightly together at my chest for good measure.
“Please, Daddy. Please, please marry me.”
His jaw drops open and a forceful rush of breath leaves him.
He pulls me up so fast my head spins. He crushes me to him, laughing and kissing my cheeks and my eyes and my nose and finally my mouth.
His tongue finds mine, parting my lips and taking what’s his.
He kisses me hungry and long, both of us breathless by the time he pulls away.
“Is that a yes?”
Blue eyes glisten. Tears threaten and start to fall. He starts nodding as he tries to find his voice. “It’s more than a yes, baby. It’s a hell yes!”
“Are you serious?” I jump onto him and wrap my legs tightly around his waist. “Are you for real? I thought you’d say it was too soon. Thought you’d say I was crazy.”
“Of course it’s crazy,” he says softly, setting me down and looking at me, shrugging and starting to laugh. “It’s completely crazy, and nothing’s ever made more sense.”
A low, rumbling sound escapes his chest and goes straight through me. His eyes are wet and he’s smiling so hard that his lips are pulled back so far I can see a full set of molars. “We’re getting married!”
His voice spikes in a way I’ve never heard before. If it happened to anyone else, I might be inclined to accuse them of squealing.
But Stuart doesn’t squeal. Right?
Wrong.
“We’re getting married! Married!” Definitely, a certifiable squeal that time.
“D’you hear that, Pam? I’m getting married.
” He kisses my face again. Wilder and harder this time.
“Elliot! We have to call people. I’ve got to call Beth.
You have to call your friends. Do you want to call your dad, or do you want me to?
Call everyone! Tell them to come over. Tonight.
Tell everyone to come over at five. We need to buy beer and wine and tequila and some vodka and—”
“But, Daddy,” I tease, “it’s not a kegger. It’s a nice, civilized celebration.”
“Are you kidding me?” He throws his head back and all but yells, “Of course it’s a kegger!”
I laugh helplessly. I’ve never seen Stuart like this. He’s beside himself. Smiling from ear to ear, all but vibrating. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. The best thing by far. It’s so big and so beautiful my breath catches. I’m still for a moment as I let it wash over me.
I asked.
And he said yes.
He said yes.
Happily ever after starts here.
“…should probably do something easy. Pizza? Or burgers, maybe? What do you think?”
“I think the real question is what we’re going to do about placemats with so many people coming over,” I say, poking the side of his ribs. “It’s a placemat emergency. A placemat crisis, if you will.”
He chuckles, rolling his eyes and swatting my ass playfully once and then a little harder. Just hard enough to remind me of everything. Who he is, who I am, and who we are together.
Everything slows for a beat.
“You know what,” he says, nodding as he makes up his mind.
“On second thought, tell everyone to come over at seven. There’s something we need to do first—you and I, we’re going to Cartier, young man.
” He takes my left hand in his, raising it to his lips and kissing my ring finger. “That’s what we’re doing.”
“But, Daddy,” I say, batting my lashes in faux innocence, “Cartier is so expensive. Thought you said I couldn’t afford to shop at places like that anymore.”
His eyes crease deeply as he leans in. His body is pressed up against mine. Solid and hard. Steady and safe. His lips curl up and his eyes flicker with humor that turns slowly to heat.
“Oh, you sure as hell can’t." He tilts his head to the side and holds my gaze, rendering me hot, helpless, and his. "But your Daddy can.”
My next book, Rent: Paid in Full tells the story of struggling college boy, Ryan Haraway, who finds himself drowning in student loan debt.
His insufferable roommate offers to help him financially.
But what does our hero have to give him in exchange?
He's a broke student who doesn't want charity, and it's not like he owns anything of significant value he could sell or rent out…
Spoiler: It's his ass. He's going to pay with his ass, okay.