Chapter Six
KYRA
At some point, I need to get out of bed. It is a requirement.
After all, it’s Christmas Eve. And tradition must be upheld. Even if I’d rather crawl into the earth and let it swallow me whole.
I’m definitely feeling that way.
Admittedly, I maybe should have thought through some of the legalities a bit more before blindly agreeing to get married. But that’s why you have a finance advisor bestie—to know these things. To keep you out of the legal hot water of committing tax fraud via a sham marriage.
Except it wasn’t a sham marriage. At least not on my end. I’d like to think after our slumber party the other night, not for Davis either. Now thanks to my oldest sister, I’m not sure I’ll ever know.
I look at my phone, checking the time. I still have three hours before I have to be at the distillery for Tinsel Tangle, the super exclusive cocktail party hosted by the Ol’ Troublemakers, our VIP group.
The party is technically open to the public—if you can get tickets, which is next to impossible since invites go to shareholders first, then to Ol’ Troublemakers, and then, if magically there is room left, we open it up for sale.
I don’t think there has been a general sale on Tinsel Tangle tickets in my lifetime.
Or my parents’ lifetimes for that matter.
It’s a bougie, boozy, boring evening, and always seems to steal the magic out of Christmas for me.
Too many people wanting to see and be seen, while getting a sneak peek at the newest Tennessee Trouble or a taste of something rare enough to only make an appearance at this event.
Plus, it’s the only time you can get an Ol’ Fashioned Preacher, the special Christmas cocktail whose recipe is as secret as the Coca-Cola formula.
Personally, I’d much rather spend my evening in my pajamas on the couch. At least if I’m stuck there, I have Davis to keep me company.
Oh…wait. Fuck.
My phone dings, and I groan—although I’m not sure if that’s only in my head or if I actually do it out loud—wondering which one of my family members it is this time.
They seem to be taking turns, almost on the hour, texting me to see if I’m okay, or if I’ve fallen into the bottle. Well, all of them except Mikayla.
She only texted once, a very long, novel-length message professing her regret and how she only wants what is best for me and how she hopes that I can forgive her.
I didn’t bother to respond, letting her sweat it out, but I will forgive her.
I know my sister, and know that she can’t shut off her lawyer brain—ever—and that protecting all of us is what she does, and it’s her way of showing love.
Lindee’s right though. We really do need to get her laid.
Glancing down at my phone, I scan over the message from my mother, rolling my eyes so hard I’m surprised I don’t see the back of my skull.
Mom
Make sure to check your teeth for lipstick before leaving the house. Don’t want a repeat of your senior year…
I swear on everything that is holy…
It was one time. One. And the only person who even noticed it in the Christmas photo was her. And everyone she pointed it out to. But that’s beside the point. I’m glad that’s what she’s focused on right now—the Murray family Christmas photo we’ll take tonight at the party.
My phone dings again, another text from Mom popping up.
Mom
and it’s raining cats and dogs, so don’t forget your umbrella!
For fuck’s sake…
I throw my head back into the pillow, snapping my eyes shut, wanting it to stop.
The last thing I want to do is go to this party.
Getting all prettied up, putting on a party dress, and acting the part is only so much fun on the best of days.
And frankly, I’m a Murray—I know the secret recipe for an Ol’ Fashioned Preacher, so I can have one any time of year.
I don’t have to be invited to the Tinsel Tangle to get one.
Maybe I can get out of it. If there was ever a chance, this is it. One should be able to play the ruined wedding card, right?
My thumbs start to tap out the message to my mother, my brain working overtime trying to wordsmith the perfect combination of public image and straight-up pity when my doorbell rings. I ignore it, not in the mood for carolers, especially in the rain, but then it rings again. And again.
And then keeps ringing. Incessantly.
Someone clearly has a death wish.
I throw the covers back, launching myself out of bed, out of my bedroom, and down the stairs faster than Superman’s speeding bullet.
At this point I’m madder than an old wet hen, and I do not care who knows it.
That’s not true. Whoever is on the other side of this door is about to know it.
Same as they are about to know that I am not wearing a bra.
Serves them right for the way they are ringing this doorbell.
Throwing the door open, I’m halfway to blessing my guest out, and I stop dead in my tracks, my heart in my throat. Standing on the other side, soaking wet in the pouring rain is the very last person I expected.
“Davis…” I choke out, barely able to catch my breath.
My heart stops, a knot forming in my stomach, as he stares back at me, water dripping down his face, his unruly hair matted down by the rain.
“There’s so much I need to say, Kyra, so much I need to explain. I know that. But…” He sucks in a breath, licking his lips. He holds up a quarter, showing it off, like it contains all the answers. “Let me start with this.”
He flips the coin, catching it midair and turning it over onto his hand, showing off Washington’s head. “Shit, let me try again.”
So he does. Flipping it again, he goes for the catch but misses it, the coin landing in a small puddle at his feet, also heads up this time.
“Fuck…” he mutters, bending over to pick it up.
What the…
That’s when it hits me. I figured we’d flip a coin…heads my place, tails yours. Tails. He’s trying for tails.
“Third time’s the charm, promise!”
I don’t let him go for the third. I reach out into the rain, grabbing his shirt and tugging him into the house—into me—and kissing him. Hard.
It takes a split second, but Davis wraps his arms around me, pulling me impossibly closer, the wetness of his clothing seeping into mine as he takes control of the kiss.
I shiver from the sudden change in temperature, but am too lost in him to care.
Because he’s here now, and that is all that matters.
The taste of him is sweet, familiar, and somehow new.
The answer to everything that’s been missing.
My past, present, and future.
“You’re my home, Kyra,” Davis whispers, pulling back and sliding his hands to my hips, giving them a squeeze. “You always have been, you always will be. Nothing will ever change that.”
“Jail…” I chuckle.
Davis shakes his head, sending water droplets flying. “I was not trying to get us sent to jail. As sexy as you look in Volunteer orange, I don’t think prison orange would have the same effect.”
Damn straight…
“Yes, getting married was playing a little fast and loose with tax law, but I could have asked anyone if all I was doing was looking to avoid paying taxes. If all I wanted was something on paper. But I wasn’t.
I asked you because you are my best friend.
I love you. Like, honest-to-God in love with you, Kyra, and have been for so damn long I don’t even know.
I asked you because it was my fantasy and I wanted it to be real. ”
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, my heart ready to burst. I wrap my fingers in Davis’s wet T-shirt, trying to contain my emotions, even though I know I can’t. It’s useless. I’ve waited so long to hear these words from him, so afraid that I never would.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I was convinced you didn’t feel the same way.” He squeezes my hips again, resting his forehead against mine. “And I couldn’t risk it. Until I could.”
I scoff laugh, because that’s the most Davis non-answer there ever was. And yet, somehow, it makes sense. At least to me. To anyone else, it probably wouldn’t, but that’s how I know it’s meant to be. How I know that he’s mine. Because that answer doesn’t need any more of an explanation.
“I love you too.” The words come out strangled, despite how I intend them, fighting for front billing with the tears that are making their way down my cheeks. Davis gently wipes them away, letting me have my moment. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
“Good.” He steps back, kicking the still open door shut behind him. “Makes this next question a little less crazy. But only a little.”
Dropping to one knee, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little blue box. The butterflies inside me take flight, my breath getting caught in my chest. Is he really…
“Kyra, I know I did this wrong the first time, and this probably isn’t the most romantic way either, but you are who I want to spend my life with. Making one crazy decision after the next. Marry me?”
“Yes,” I shout, a laugh tumbling out with it.
Reaching down, I yank Davis up to his feet and leap into his arms in one swift move.
I wrap myself around him, arms and legs holding on for dear life, and bury my face in his neck, letting my happy tears flow and wishing I could crawl into him.
He returns my embrace just as tightly, stroking my hair and letting the moment surround us.
“One condition,” I say, lifting my head to look at him.
“Name it.”
“You save whatever is in the ring box for the Tinsel Tangle tonight, and we do this all over again, putting on a great big show for everyone to see. Especially Mikayla.”
Davis laughs, shaking his head like a puppy and spraying my face with water. “Don’t you even want to see it first?”
“Nope. I trust that it’s perfect, so I want to be just as surprised as everyone else who sees it for the first time tonight.”
Laughing again, he adjusts his grip on me, stealing a kiss.
“Deal. Anything else?”
I scrunch my nose. “You smell like wet boy. And you’ve made me all wet.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
He thrusts against me, waggling his eyebrows. Laughing, I wiggle against him, trying for some friction that might kick this to the next level.
“Maybe…”
“Then maybe I should rectify that.”
“You definitely should.”
“Well, then, Kyra,” he growls, yanking me into him, capturing my mouth in his. “Let me take you upstairs and show you just how much I love you.”
“That’s future Mrs. Barnes to you.”
“It sure the fuck is.”