Epilogue
I wake up early, even though I have a long day ahead of me and could use the extra sleep.
But I’m too excited—and nervous. I’ve been dreaming of this moment my entire life, and it’s finally here.
Our friends and family from out of town are on their way.
All of the planning is behind me, and the only thing left for me to do is put on my dress and show up.
Charlie’s sleeping soundly. But I may just have to wake him, because there’s only one thing that can help me relax right now, and I’m sure he won’t be too upset if I ask for it.
I snuggle up to him, reach my hand under the covers, and into his boxers. A smile forms on his lips, even though his eyes are still closed.
“Last night wasn’t enough for you?” he jokes, a sexy, sleepy rasp in his voice.
“I need another fix to get me through until tonight,” I tell him, grinning when his gaze meets mine.
Charlie shifts on top of me. “You nervous?”
I heave a sigh. “I just want it to be perfect, you know?”
“No, I don’t know…because perfect is no longer in my vocabulary,” he teases. Then he peels off my tank top and kisses my breasts. “Unless we’re talking about these…”
“Mmm,” I moan as his tongue flicks my nipple.
He pulls off my underwear next.
“Or maybe we’re talking about this,” he says, tracing circles between my thighs with his fingers before he slowly slides one inside me. “Because this is definitely perfect.”
I arch my back, my entire body pulsing with need. “I honestly don’t know what we were talking about anymore, Charlie.”
“Well, then…I guess my work here is done.” He props himself on his elbow and licks his finger, savoring the way I taste.
“Not so fast,” I say, pressing my hands against his chest, then straddling him when he’s flat on his back. I take my turn planting kisses on his chest, then work my way down his abs and slide off his boxers.
There was a time when people-pleasing Charlie was so focused on pleasuring me that he’d rarely let me reciprocate.
Those days are over. Now I get to work on him with my mouth and tongue for as long as I want—which is typically as long as it takes for me to drive him so wild with desire that he pins me down and has his way with me.
It’s exactly what he’s doing right now, and it’s certainly helping me clear my head. Instead of worrying about how the day will unfold, all I can think about is how incredible it feels to have sex with someone who knows and loves me so completely.
I try my best to delay the orgasm Charlie’s orchestrating with his deep thrusts, intent on enjoying our mind-blowing chemistry as long as I can.
But a girl only has so much willpower. When I can’t hold back anymore, my soulmate reads my cues and unravels with me, making my climax that much more explosive.
Afterward, I lie on top of him, panting, and blissful—enjoying the feel of his heart beating against mine.
“Did that hit the spot?” he asks.
I giggle. “It hit all the right spots. But now I need a shower,” I say, fanning my sweaty face.
“Same,” he replies. “I guess I’ll go back to my place. If we shower together, I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands off you, and I know Christy’s coming over soon.”
I nod. “Fair enough. But, for the record, I can’t wait for you to officially move in.”
“It’ll be like an endless summer,” he says with a smile, recalling our trip to Italy for his first official gig as a travel photographer.
It was magical. Three months of falling deeper and deeper in love with Charlie in one of the most romantic places in the world.
We ate decadent meals, and had incredible sex.
I painted breathtaking landscapes, while Charlie took stunning photographs.
I’d never seen him happier. And when I snapped a picture of him in the Italian countryside with a camera strapped around his neck, I realized that my latest wish had come true.
Even amid those dreamy days and nights, though, my favorite part of our trip was falling asleep in my boyfriend’s arms and waking up next to him every morning. Charlie felt the same. So when we got back to Chicago, he found a subletter, who’ll be moving into his place next month .
Not much will change, since he’s practically living with me already. But I guess we’ll be taking more showers together, since Charlie Sutton can’t keep his hands off me. Oh, well.
“Until then, enjoy the extra space in your closet,” he says, putting his boxers back on. “Soon it’ll be full of perfectly tailored suits that I don’t plan to wear very often.”
“I don’t mind. You don’t have to wear a thing—I prefer you naked, anyway.”
“Oh, I know where your priorities are, Jenna Andersen,” he teases as he puts on the rest of his clothes.
“I love you,” I say, while he’s grabbing his keys from my dresser.
He walks to my side of the bed and leans down to give me a kiss. “I love you more.”
I just shake my head, smiling at him.
“I’ll see you later,” he tells me. “And don’t be nervous. I’ll be by your side the entire night.”
I chuckle. “You’d better be.”
He winks at me, then leaves for his apartment.
When I open the door for Christy, she’s got a huge grin on her face, and an even larger cup of takeout coffee.
“Late night?” I ask as she strolls into my place and makes a beeline for the couch.
She takes a seat, then looks at me, biting her lip. “I know this is your big day, Jenna, and I don’t want to make this about me…”
I plop down next to her, my eyes wide with excitement. “ What happened?”
I’ve never seen my sister like this before. She has the glow of a woman in love. I wonder if she met someone she had an instant connection with—the way I felt, when I ran into Charlie.
“Well,” she begins, her freckled cheeks flushing. “Sam and I went to the bar at the Sofitel hotel last night, and we met a group of guys who were in town for their friend’s bachelor party. And the best man, who was extremely attractive, told me he had a thing for redheads, and long story short…”
“Yes?” I ask as my sister lets out a dreamy sigh.
“I had the most amazing one-night stand,” she tells me, flipping her wavy hair.
Oh.
So, she’s not in love. But this is good, too.
When she moved to Chicago back in January, Christy decided she wanted to play the field for a bit.
After eight years with Kyle—the first and only guy she’d ever slept with—she needed to know what else was out there.
But dating in the Windy City is challenging in the dead of winter, when Chicagoans rarely leave their homes unless they have to.
So my sister’s journey to find good sex got off to a slow start.
She had more luck meeting men in the spring, but the first guy she brought home finished so fast, she wound up driving him home at nine, then spending the night in my bed, crying.
Her next few experiences happened over the summer, while I was in Italy with Charlie.
That’s when Sam took Christy under her wing and they became close friends.
My sister had a lot of fun, and added some notches to her bedpost— though she described the trysts as “good, but not earth-shattering.” I could relate, since the earth never shattered for me either, before I slept with Charlie.
“I think part of the reason last night was so great is because I feel more comfortable, now that I’ve been with a handful of guys. But this man was talented .” She blushes again. “It was amazing.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I say, smiling. “But if it was so good, why not see him again? Does it have to be a one-night stand?”
She shrugs. “He lives in Austin. Plus, we have absolutely nothing in common, outside of enjoying each other’s bodies.
He’s a tech guy, and he doesn’t read for pleasure.
You know how hard that was for me, with Kyle.
On the nights we weren’t having sex—which were aplenty—I would’ve loved to just read next to each other in bed, and talk about our books.
Maybe it’s silly, but reading is my life.
It’s my job and my passion, and I want to share that with the man I end up with.
But Kyle took no interest in my work at all.
If I ever tried to read him something beautiful from one of the manuscripts I was reviewing, he’d roll over and start snoring before I’d even finished the first paragraph. ”
“I know how important that connection is for you. And I get it. It’s like me and Charlie—we can talk about art for hours. I love that.”
“Speaking of Charlie…I bet he’s so excited for tonight.”
“He’s been counting down the days,” I say with a smile.
“And how are you feeling?” she asks, her hand on my knee.
I sigh. “Excited. Nervous. I keep worrying about my dress.”
Christy’s brow wrinkles. “Your dress is gorgeous. What’s there to worry about? ”
“You don’t think it’s too much? Maybe I should’ve gone with something a little less dramatic.”
She scoffs. “It’s your day. You’re supposed to look like a movie star.”
I laugh. “It’s my art show—not my wedding.”
“It’s your first solo art show,” she reminds me. “This is a big deal.”
“I know it is,” I admit, my heart fluttering. “That’s why my palms are so sweaty. I just wish Mom were coming. She’s been doing so well since she started therapy and meds—I really thought she’d come for the weekend.”
“You should have asked her again,” my sister scolds me.
“I asked her three times,” I insist. “She just doesn’t want to leave Dad—and it’s not like he’d ever consider coming. Art shows aren’t the type of accomplishment he’ll brag about to his colleagues.”