Chapter 41
Andi
The ceremony, despite its “non-wedding” label, is absolutely and completely normal—short, sweet, and surprisingly touching. Laine’s and Hunter’s vows are so heartfelt, so genuinely adorable, that I actually shed a few tears.
The reception is magical, set on the same beachfront pavilion we ate breakfast on. The sounds of waves crashing and the string lights twinkling above us are like a scene straight out of a movie.
Nolan and I spend most of the night on the dance floor, alternating between dancing and making frequent trips to the bar.
But what really gets to me isn’t just the dancing or the margaritas; it’s how Nolan treats me.
We haven’t made anything official, or talked about the future, but he treats me like his girlfriend, touching me in these small, sweet ways, kissing my neck, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his side as we move through the crowd.
By the end of the night, we’re stumbling back to the villa, laughing at everything.
At one point, I attempt to kick off my shoes mid-stride, convinced I can walk better barefoot, and I nearly land in a bush.
By the time we get to the villa, we’re still dying over the random guy at the bar who thought Nolan and Hunter were brothers and spent a solid five minutes trying to convince us of his theory.
“I don’t look anything like him, by the way,” he argues vehemently. They don’t look anything alike, but it’s fun to tease him about it.
“I mean, you do have similar hair,” I tease, resting my chin on Nolan’s shoulder as we fumble with the villa door.
“Clearly you have a type,” Nolan counters.
I laugh, leaning into him as the villa door swings open, the sounds of the ocean still faintly in the background. It hits me then—somewhere between the bad dancing, the hand-holding, and the ridiculous bar conversations—how much I love being with Nolan. How much I want to do this forever.
“Can you believe Hunter’s dad’s name is William Williams?” Nolan says, shaking his head in disbelief as he collapses onto the bed, still in his suit. “You can’t tell me his parents weren’t sociopaths.”
I laugh. “Yeah, it is pretty unfortunate.”
He continues, his voice full of mock outrage, “It’s like they just gave up. ‘What should we name the kid? Too much effort. Let’s just double up.’ ”
“Or they really liked the name. I actually think it’s a nice name,” I point out.
He flashes me a smirk, pulling himself into a seated position on the edge of the bed. “You like most names.”
“I do! I think they can work for the right person. Will is one of my backup names if I have kids.”
Nolan’s eyes narrow, his expression somewhere between teasing and scandalized. “Wait, wait, wait. You have baby names?”
“Well, not an official list,” I admit, shrugging. “But I’ve got some favorites in mind.”
He leans in, his eyes twinkling. “What are they?”
“I’m not telling you!” I say, crossing my arms. “You’ll just make fun of them.”
He raises a hand to his chest, feigning shock. “I would never. In fact, I’m a huge supporter of well-thought-out names.”
I shoot him a skeptical look. “You have opinions—strong ones.”
Nolan grins mischievously, motioning for me to come closer. “Okay, fine. I might have some thoughts. But come on, before you name your future child Turbo or something, let me help out.”
I swat his leg playfully, standing between them. “Turbo? That’s what you think I’d name a child?”
“I’m just saying, it could happen. I’ve seen weirder.” He wraps his arms around my waist, hands settling at the small of my back. “All right, hit me with your other picks.”
I sigh, knowing this is a terrible idea. “Okay, I like Olivia.”
He nods, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Olivia, hmm…Olivia seems like someone who’s super kind but will absolutely school you on trivia night.”
I laugh.
“But,” he continues, “Liv is the one you have to watch out for. She’s the wild card. Probably owns, like, three motorcycles.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, since you’re clearly the expert, what names do you like?”
I’m half expecting him to dodge the question, but instead, he answers without hesitation. “Pippa for a girl, Jack for a boy.”
I blink, surprised. “Wait, seriously? You have baby names, too?”
Nolan shrugs, completely casual. “Not that I’m planning anything, but yeah. Always liked those names.”
I smirk. “I like Jack.”
“Jack’s a classic,” Nolan says. “Jack’s the guy who’d change your tires and then offer to repaint your house and build your fence because he’s nice like that. He’s probably mayor of the town, too.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “What about Jack Turbo?”
He belts out a laugh. “Interesting combo. Sounds like an accountant by day, vigilante slash street racer by night.”
“Destined for greatness.”
He snorts, pulling me down onto his lap.
“I’m glad we came. Not just to celebrate Laine and Hunter, but it’s been nice, being here…” I squeeze my eyes shut, my arms wrapped around his neck. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“No, it’s been amazing. I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”
“Though that means you’ll get to see Cody again,” I remind him.
His whole face lights up. “True. I miss the little guy. I actually texted Deidra asking her how he’s doing, but she hasn’t responded yet.”
I smile into his neck. “I don’t know if I’m ready for real life.”
“You don’t have to be. At least, not yet,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eye before he shackles my hands above my head on the mattress.
He plants a map of kisses all the way down my body, down my neck, chest, over each breast, over the valley of my stomach, and down to where I’m desperate for him.
And then he does it. He runs the flat part of his tongue from the top, down my center, sweeping my entire length. He takes turns sucking my clit and licking me top to bottom in long, languished strokes, like he’s a man starved.
I shift on top of him and he cups my tits, rolling his thumbs over my nipples before grinding my ass to him. He leans over and grabs a condom from the bedside table, slipping it on.
We fall into bed together, me on top of him. The past few times have been slow. Nolan likes to stretch things out, wind me up until I’m begging for release. But tonight, the energy is rushed, needy, desperate, as though we both sense how much we need the connection.
I sink onto him with ease, utterly desperate to settle the ache in my core that blooms whenever he’s around. It feels so deep, like he’s intrinsically a part of me.
“Andi,” he grunts, hands on my hips to set the pace. “You feel so good. So. Good.”
He props himself up against the headboard so we’re face-to-face.
A flicker of sadness passes over his expression before he captures my lips in a kiss so urgent, so deep, I practically dissolve into him.
And it feels different, us looking each other in the eye as we move in sync, our bodies trembling, melding into one.
It’s intimate, like it has been every time since the first day we got here, even if neither of us wants to admit it.
The climb is so fast, I press my hands into the mattress to slow us down. I want to remember everything, how he sounds, how he tastes, what he feels like.
A smile spreads over his face, and it almost takes me out before he brings one palm flush over my heart. “I can feel you, right here. You’re already close, aren’t you?”
I bite my lip through a sharp gasp, nodding as the heat inside me nearly unfurls. “So close.”
I expect him to torture me a little, make me wait. But he starts bucking up into me faster and faster.
I study the way his jaw tenses as he works me, the way he tips his head back, groaning with abandon, the way he looks at me like I’m something to be cherished, even loved. From that alone, the pressure inside me mounts to nearly a point of no return.
“I need…” He hesitates, swallowing.
“Need what?”
Our eyes lock and he doesn’t waver. “You,” he whispers.
At his words, I fall apart entirely as he absorbs every tremble. Every shock wave rippling through my body. It’s bigger, more intense than any other time because it’s not just about pleasure, or the technique he used to get me off. It’s about him. And me.
He thrusts hard into me, finishing violently in a ragged, fractured groan that turns everything upright. I come all over again, in soft, subdued waves. We stay like that, watching each other lose all control in a way we’ve never been able to do with anyone else.
Our vision tunneled, we go limp in each other’s arms, still moving slowly, not ready to end the connection. I don’t think I’m physically capable of letting go.
As he holds me, I think about what he said.
How I need him, too. How safe I feel with him.
Not just because he could probably kill somebody with his bare hands.
I’ve never felt safe like this with anyone, physically or emotionally.
I’ve never felt like I had to put on a persona, like I had to perform for him.
I’ve never felt like he was grading me or that he had any expectations for me. I can just be.
I think about the night we met. How he carried my groceries and filled my world with color all within the span of a few hours. How I pursued my dream, all because he encouraged me to do it. I think about the fog I was in for months after he left and how it never really lifted.
Since he’s been back, every second with him feels like standing in the sunlight.
How my heart leaps, twirls, and sizzles when his name flashes on my phone screen.
I think about how quickly I trusted him and how he never wanted anything in return for keeping my secret.
I think about how much he cares about his mom, his family.
I’ve never met someone like him, ever. And more than that, how he sees me. How he believes in me like no one else.
It’s all-consuming, how desperately I need him. It scares me. I’ve never needed anyone before.