Bed Buddies (Roommates #3) - Tara Brown - PDF Free Download (2024)

BED BUDDIES

TARA BROWN

Contents Copyright Also by Tara Brown Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Matt’s Epilogue Brady’s Epilogue The End

Copyright 2016 Tara Brown http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com eBook Edition This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted. This book is a work of fiction; any similarities are coincidental. All characters in this fictional story are based entirely on the crazed mind of the author and are not based on any human. Any similarities are by chance and not intentional. Cover Art by Broken Arrow Design Edited by Andrea Burns

ALSO BY TARA BROWN The Devil’s Roses Cursed Bane Witch Hyde Death Blackwater Midnight Coven Redeemers Betrayers – Coming soon

The Royals Trilogy A Royal Pain A Royal Affair – Coming soon

The Born Trilogy Born Born to Fight Reborn

The Light Series The Light of the World The Four Horsemen The End of Days

Imaginations Imaginations Duplicities Reparation – Coming soon

The Blood Trail Chronicles Vengeance Vanquished Valiant – Coming soon

The Crimson Cove Mysteries If At First Second Nature Third Time’s a Charm Four Crimson Corners Hang Five – Coming soon

The Single Lady Spy Series The End of Me The End of Games The End of Tomorrow The End of Lies – Coming soon

Blood and Bone Blood and Bone Sin and Swoon Soul and Blade

Puck Buddies Puck Buddies Roommates Bed Buddies Baby Daddies - Coming soon

My Side The Long Way Home The Lonely LOST BOY First Kiss Sunder In The Fading Light

For Love or Money

PROLOGUE

T

he sound of the door closing behind me makes me flinch. I exhale slowly, letting all the air out of my lungs so I can fully experience the emptiness. Frozen in the window, terrified to move in case I shatter into a million pieces, I can’t help but wonder how everything turned out this way. All along there had been a real risk he wasn’t enough for my parents, but the thrill of it had added adventurous flavoring to our relationship. The possibility I'm the one who's not enough is now, ironically, my worst fear. The emptiness overtaking me isn’t a new feeling. It’s an old friend coming home. It’s inside, taking up every bit of space and turning me into nothing, making me hollow. For the first time ever, my ability to pretend everything is fine annoys me. I don’t understand how to be as broken as I am so the anguish slips by, unfelt. I blink tears down my cheeks and take my first breath after the exhale but the air doesn’t fill me. It doesn’t add any weight or make me whole again.

CHAPTER 1

HAPPY CRAPPY CHRISTMAS

D ecember 24, 2015

Natalie The snow swirling outside in the dark makes the magic of Christmas even better than having all our families together. Even if one significant person is missing. The key in my pocket feels as though it’s burning a hole in my jeans and I need to tell Sami, but I don't want to wake her up. It’s one in the morning in London and she’s likely jet lagged. “Screw it.” I pull my phone out and walk to the bathroom. She might be awake, she’s a night owl. Maybe the jet lag is working opposite this time. Maybe she’s not halfway through her sleep. I FaceTime and turn the volume down, hoping the crappy Wi-Fi at Brady’s mom’s house doesn't kill my call. The town’s gorgeous and affluent, but his mom’s against paying more than thirty dollars for Wi-Fi and you get what you pay for. It rings a couple of times before she answers but the screen stays black. “Nat?” she whispers. She must be hiding too. “Is that you?” “Sami?” I whisper back, hoping the picture kicks in. “Can you see me?” “Hey, girlie, what’s going on? No, I can’t see anything.” “Are you in the dark?” I still can’t see anything. It’s going to ruin my surprise if I can’t show her. “No. Bathroom. Why?” “I still can’t see you.” I smile wide. “I’m in the bathroom too. You hiding from your parents?” “No.” She laughs and the picture comes clear and bright. She looks weird. Her eyes are red like she’s been crying. “Hey!” She uses her fake voice, “Merry Christmas.” “You too. How’s London?” I can’t imagine what shit her parents have pulled to make her look this way. I adore them, but they don't have a single parenting skill. Combining that with the fact they always let the rich-people bullshit dictate everything they do, means she never believes she’s enough. “It’s been good. I got here a couple of days ago, shopped and ate and saw some homies. How’s it there?” She’s too chipper for one in the morning. “Good.” I want to share my news but the look in her eyes is killing me. “What’s

wrong?” “Nothing.” She shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. “I was watching this sadass shit Christmas movie with Nadia, about this dog who’s homeless and searching for his family that abandoned him. Anyway, how’s Darlene doing with Brady’s mom?” She laughs a little. “Good. She’s trying to run the show as usual but fortunately Brady’s mom’s pretty much the same person as my dad. She’s tolerant as hell. And Brady’s sisterin-law, Lacey, has parents similar to Mom. They’ve spent the entire day comparing vacations and connections. Namedropping is the game this year.” It’s ludicrous for her to think I’d believe she cried during a movie. Sami Ford doesn't cry. I can count the number of times I’ve personally seen tears leave her eyes. “Are your parents being shits?” I have to pry, it’s my job. I’m the only one who does. “No. Dad was out during the day, visiting friends.” She rolls her eyes on the word “friends.” “Mom got drunk early and went to nap and never really woke up. Weird night.” She’s lying but I don't know why. She’s been so weird this last year, acting like someone I don't think I know. And the worst part is I can’t be sure if this is the real Sami and she’s been hiding it all her life, or this is some act or crisis. “Did you see Matt?” He’s the addition to her life I worry about the most. “Matt.” Her eyes widen. “Uh yeah,” she whispers again. He’s a terrible combination of Brady and Sami. Rich and dirty. I don't even understand how he and Brady are friends. The only time I ever really see Matt is when there’s something going on and Sami invites him to hang out. He and Sami’s relationship is strange and still referred to as a thing. It’s noncommittal and yet strangely monogamous on her part. I doubt on his part though. She’s far more into him than he is her. Every time we’re all together, her feelings are obvious. And Brady let it slip once that Matt had done something with some PF at a party Brady was at, and it got back to Sami. I don't know if it’s true or not. Brady pretends like he doesn't know what I’m talking about when I bring it up and Sami hasn't ever told me. But if it is, I will hate him forever. “Is he with you now?” Is that why she’s whispering or did he make her cry? She presses her lips together briefly, before she answers, “Yeah. He’s sleeping on the sofa.” “He came to be with you for Christmas?” He doesn't strike me as a Christmasloving guy. He’s always so casual with her. I don't know that he’s capable of anything else. “No. I sort of came to see him.” “Are you in London?” My insides tighten and I forget about the key in my pocket. “Dude, what is this, an inquisition? Yeah. I’m in London. It’s one in the morning. I’m tired, and I just watched a sad movie with my maid while Matt slept on the couch next to me. Why are you being so weird?” She scowls. “You don't cry over movies.” “Well, I did this year, okay? It’s a Christmas-fucking-Miracle. Are you okay? You’re being weird.” “Yeah.” I believe her for the first time since the phone call started and

remember why I called. I reach my fingers into the pocket and pull the key out. “My Christmas gift.” I hold the key up so she can see it but the delivery of the surprise seems ruined. “Bro.” Her eyes widen. “Did he buy you a house?” “No.” I laugh. Her gift expectations are so unreal. “He got an apartment and asked me to live with him and I get to have a games room.” “Awww. I’m really happy for you. That’s the best news.” Her expression of true and actual joy flashes across her face, lasting a second before it turns to a wicked grin. “How did Darlene take the news?” She cackles. “I haven’t told her yet.” I wince. “Chickenshit.” “Whatever.” I lift a middle finger. “I don't want her drama to ruin Christmas. Brady’s mom is so nice and the sister-in-law is pregnant and about to pop. The stress would be bad for her.” “Wow, you have really thought out your reasons to avoid telling her. Nice.” “Do they sound reasonable?” Worry floods me. “They are absolutely reasonable. Your mom’s insane. Her meddling is beyond. This is your only hope. And in fact, I wouldn't even tell her when you move. Just act like you’re still at my place and then lie about us getting into it, and you had to get away from me.” She knows my mom too well. “Yeah. That's a good plan. She’s so crazy and her freaking out needs to be kept from Brady and his family for as long as possible. All I can do is hope she will try to act like an adult when I tell her, safely from my phone when I’m back in Manhattan and completely moved in. Maybe in a year from now.” “When are you guys back home?” She yawns, covering her mouth. A giant diamond ring flashes across the screen, the light hitting it and nearly blinding me with the glint. “WHAT IS THAT?” I scream. She freezes, dropping the hand mid yawn. Shock, horror, and the weirdest sensation of passing out hit me all at once. She looks how I feel. In the screen we are making the exact same face. “What is that?” “Nothing.” She says it too fast and then swallows hard. “Lift your hand back up!” I scream. “It was nothing, Nat. Just a gift.” Her brow knits. “Then why do you look like that? You lying bitch, a Christmas movie? Are you fucking serious? You have an iceberg on the right finger and you’re going to lie to me about crying over some homeless dog? How can you even face me right now? Why wasn't I the first person you called?” I’m genuinely offended and also curious who in God’s name gave her that ring. “It’s not the right finger, not yet.” She closes her eyes and lifts the hand again, almost blinding me with the dazzling engagement ring that is so obviously taking over her entire hand. “Are you shitting me right now? Who gave you that?” My heart is racing, my mouth is dry, and I’m on the verge of puking.

“Matt, duh. Who else?” “How have I not been consulted on this? Did we even know this was even a remote possibility? Because last time we hung out all I remember was you staring at your phone waiting for him to message and he didn't! He never messaged you back all weekend. And his Instagram had pictures of him out with the guys.” “Don't be mad.” She gulps again. “It’s not what you think. I mean it is, but it’s more of a—” She’s panting, actually hyperventilating. “Fuck. He asked me to think about marrying him and I couldn't say no.” “Why? He’s awful. He’s a William. He’s the very worst of you and Brady. Dirty player, rich, and snobby. He treats you like shit. I can’t believe you’re this dumb!” I can’t believe I’ve said any of those words, or hurt her enough to make her face fall the way it has. I snap my mouth shut. “This is why I couldn't tell you. There’s too much to explain.” Her eyes narrow as if I’m the one who’s offside. “Really?” That pisses me off, like having her best interests at heart is somehow horrible. “Explain away, Sami. Explain to me how your self-esteem has dropped so low that you’re actually just winging it and maybe marrying this guy. Is this your dad? You don't have to marry someone because they tell you to.” I have to sit down or I’m going to pass out, so I slump onto the toilet. “It’s not like that. I’ve got to tell you the whole story. Can you wait to freak out until we both get home?” She’s annoyed. “Fine. Whatever. Merry Christmas.” I hang up and start to cry. I’m not even sure why. A knock at the door interrupts my heart attack. “Nat?” It’s Brady. He opens the door, his eyes widening. “You okay?” “No.” I sniffle and let him lift me into his arms. “Are you scared of moving in together again? You don't have to pay rent. I covered the lease for the year. I know it’s an expensive building—” “No,” I repeat and bury my face in his shirt. “It’s Matt-Matt—he asked Sami—” “Mattie did it?” He pulls me back. Excitement drowns out the concern in his eyes. “You knew?” Rage hits me hard. How am I the last to know? “Of course. He’s one of my best friends. He asked me not to tell a single person. So I didn't. You can’t be trusted, babe. You would have told her. You and her are tighter than chicks are supposed to be.” “No!” I shake my head, stepping away from him. “We’re not. I feel like I barely know her. She’s crying, which is always bad, and has this diamond ring the size of Texas, and she’s considering marrying your dipshit friend.” “Hey!” He cocks an eyebrow. “He’s a loser, Brady. He treats her like shit. He’s indifferent and she loves him, and now she’s going to marry him and he’s going to destroy her.” “Whoa, Nat. You don't know Mattie like I do. It’s not like that. And Sami isn’t some saint. She’s not easy to pin down. She plays all these games—” “No, you don’t know Sami the way I do. She’s always kinda desperate—she’s needier than she lets on. And her parents—she’s clearly doing this to make them

happy.” “Nat!” He pulls me to him. “Stop! Did Sami tell you about the deal?” “What?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. “What deal?” “Never mind.” He shakes his head and drags me back into a hug. “Can you just trust me when I say Sami is safe with Mattie? Please. It’s Matt who’s in danger. When I met him years ago, all he talked about was the one and only Sami Ford. He played it like he didn't like her but he’s been obsessed for years. He loves her, believe me.” “No.” I can’t believe this is happening. He has no idea what he’s talking about. “Come on.” He slides his arm around my shoulders and walks us from the bathroom. “We can talk about it when they get back. Until then, put it in the back of your mind and focus on Christmas.” We saunter back to the living room where my mom eyes me suspiciously, no doubt assuming Brady made me cry. I wish that were the case.

CHAPTER 2

THE DEAL

M arch 16, 2015

Sami The cold wind of the early spring day lifts my hair and skirt slightly, brushing against my bare thighs and causing me to rethink the skirt and knee-high boots. I don’t want Matt to see me dressed down or up so I tried to go with something in the middle, something that screams indifferent. I’m trying to be detached. I’m trying to fake detached. I’m trying to forget the photo. Or at the very least, pretend I don't care. The tautness of my stomach suggests I’m not nearly as apathetic as I want to be. The image of him begging in the snow still makes me weak in the knees. He makes me weak in the knees. He’s the only person who does, or ever has, even with the photo lingering in my mind at all times. It’s why I’m leaving my homework and going to meet him. Not because I can afford to be a slacker with school right now. But because I can’t get him out of my head, no matter how hard I want to. Well, him and the lead singer of the Lumineers. But I checked, Wesley Schultz is married to some event planner. He’s also poor and a hipster. And while the public shame I would encounter would be worth the look on my father’s face, my mosaic heart still beats for one person. Charles drives up in a new limo, smiling wide when he sees me. I offer a slight wave as the older man jumps out, getting the door for me. “Miss Ford.” “Hello, Charles.” I blush and walk to the car door. Being around him makes me incredibly uncomfortable, but I’m working on not associating him with the worst moments Matt and I have shared. The air in my lungs gets caught mid breath as Matt steps out, meeting me with an enchanting smile, his most charming one. He looks incredible, even with his longish hair, which has completely won me over. I’ve never found guys with hair to their cheeks attractive, but it’s working with his suit and fuzzy face. End of season means the end of grooming for most hockey players, but he’s still beautiful. His scars are small and his broken bones have been put back perfectly. “You look beautiful.” He leans in to kiss my cheek like friends do, only he

lingers longer than a friend would, making me shiver from the warmth. “Thanks.” My insides tighten from the smell of him and his cologne, as I pull back and glance up into his eyes, letting them tell me a story. Their emotion and desire says everything neither of us is going to. It’s been two weeks of tiptoeing and trying to figure out how to exist within the rules I made. We aren’t doing well with them. I had all kinds of plans to make him suffer, but I haven’t really gone through with them, beyond being aloof. But even that’s fake and I’m sure my eyes betray me the way his do. Neither of us knows how to function within the guidelines of the deal. He wants too much and I need less, at least until I can trust him again. The problem is that I still want him nearby. “Time to go.” He steps to the side, letting me get in. “Okay.” I sit and fix my skirt, trying not to flash too much leg. It doesn’t stop his eyes from dancing across my exposed skin. “Thanks for coming.” He speaks like he’s talking to my knees or in a trance. “Thanks for inviting me.” I feel like we don’t even know each other anymore, instead of the opposite. It’s as if none of the laughing, playing chess, having sex, or eating at midnight happened. All our midnight confessions have been replaced with distrust. One picture, one lie, one mosaic heart ruined it all. Negated it. The only thing saving us is that confession in the snow. He played a card I didn't expect: candor. Even if it was drunken candor. It’s something we don't always have in our world. Secrets, lies, and intrigues are the bread and butter of high society. I’ve heard it called a game of houses, and it couldn't be more accurate. “I didn't think you would say yes so soon.” His tone is gentle, almost like he regrets saying it. “I’ve been busy.” It isn’t a lie. I have been swamped with schoolwork and private tutors. “Yeah, me too. I finally have back-to-back home games this week.” He nods awkwardly. “So it’s a good time to get together and talk. I’m not jet lagged.” This dancing small talk is agonizing. I think he’s trying to be real and I’m trying to be fake and we’re just awful. “Where are we eating?” I might as well have asked about the game I’m going to pretend I didn't watch on TV. “Not telling.” Some of his cockiness creeps across his lips and he’s suddenly old Matt with a naughty grin. “It’s a surprise.” He lifts a black blindfold. “One you can’t see.” The way he leans forward, taking up too much of my personal space, brings back some limo memories I have mixed feelings about. He grins, fully letting that confident leer take over his face. “Ready?” The mischief in his eyes and how his hair hangs over his face is too hot. The blindfold in his huge hands has my thighs almost as tight as my stomach. “Yeah.” I want to argue but I don't. I surprise us both when I mutter, “Okay.” Taking deep breaths and closing my eyes, I wait for the feel of the silky material. It’s not the first time someone has covered my eyes like this, but it’s the hottest.

When the fabric brushes against my cheek, I wrestle with nerves and the question of where this is going. His warm hands rest the elastic against the back of my head and his face lingers too close. His breath tickles my lip gloss, but he doesn’t kiss me. “You always smell so good. I miss the way you smell,” he says softly before moving away from me, sitting back where he was. He smells good too but I don’t say a thing. It is the first time riding in a car blindfolded so I’m finding it odd to be moved and jerked and not be prepared for it. I lean into the corner, but I’m not ready for the next one and topple over. “Shit.” “Here.” He sits next to me, holding me to him. The closeness and sensation of his arms around mine is too much. I swallow hard, leaning into him as the car takes another corner. Our faces are so close I can taste him in the air. The car jerks slightly, coming to a stop. Matt holds still for a second longer than he needs to before he takes my hand in his, pulling me to the door. When it opens, the air attacks, proving how warm it was in the car—how warm he was. His fingers link with mine as he helps me out, steadying me on my boots. “Is there a curb?” I tap with my foot like a vision-impaired person might with their cane. “No.” He wraps an arm around my waist and drags me into him and then forward. Walking is terrifying, and yet I trust him, in this anyway. Maybe I trust him more than I’m willing to admit to. The wind whips around us and I wonder where the hell we are. We walk, him leading us inside where the wind dies off as the door closes behind us. My boots click on the floor, it’s most likely tiles or stone. It could be a restaurant but there’s silence except for our shoes. It’s impossible to guess which restaurant would be silent, even on a Monday. Unless he’s taking me to one of the restaurants that’s closed Mondays, and he’s gotten them to open for us. I can’t imagine what it is, but I let him guide me to some more doors. The way we move makes me think we’ve stepped into an elevator. He draws closer as the doors close. I think it’s only us in here, which makes me think about the fantasy I have with elevators, thanks to Fifty Shades. “Can I have a hint?” I ask, realizing how quiet I’ve been just listening to my racing heart. My skin prickles against his, forcing the hairs on my arms to stand on end. “No.” He leans in, brushing his lips over mine and whispering against my cheek, “Be patient.” The stolen kiss melts my insides, intensifying the effect of riding the elevator up blindfolded. The doors open and we walk along a hallway. More silence. I sense I might trip any moment, but he’s so big, I’m sure he would catch me. Another door opens and the smell of food floods my nostrils. Garlic, onion, wine, pasta sauce maybe? It smells like heaven. He leads me forward. “Can I have your jacket?” “Can I take off the mask?” I reach around me, trying to get a clue.

“No. Jacket.” He’s firm. He’s liking this, me being blind and him being in charge. Oddly enough, I’m also liking it. It’s thrilling not knowing. I unbutton the coat and pass it to him, shivering as the air around me cools my arms. It isn’t cold but my jacket was cozy. I try not to sway or lose my balance and wish I’d worn my Tieks. “Here.” He offers his arm again with a nudge. I take it and let him guide me. The floor we cross creates more of a thud when I step, like wood, but I still have no clue where we could be. He stops and the sound of a heavy wooden piece of furniture sliding makes me jump. When it ends, his breath is all I can hear, apart from my own racing heart. “Here, sit.” He leads me to a seat. My fingers reach, tapping and touching as I lower into a large, sturdy chair with a carved feel to it, ornate arm rests, and a rigid cocoon-like quality. Another heavy-sounding piece of furniture drags on the wood, I almost wince from the noise, it’s so overwhelming with the blindfold on. The aroma of the food is irresistible. I can’t place anything else, not a sound or smell or a feel, but I am getting hungry sitting here. Where is he? Is he sitting across from me? Are we at a restaurant? I reach with my hands but I touch nothing. The chair and I are an island. Is there anyone else here? Are they watching me reach around and fumble? I lower my hands to my lap, confused, nervous, and starving. After a moment of anticipation, he mutters, “Take it off.” I lift my fingers, delicately removing one corner to peek at my surroundings. The dim light blinds me for an instant as I pull it off completely. A wide smile crosses my lips, seeing Benson, his butler, holding a silver tray. “Miss Ford.” He bows slightly, placing the tray at the table to my left where there are two others and leaves us alone. We’re at Matt’s house. We’re in his dining room. The ornate chair isn’t what I recall being here before, but it’s impressive nonetheless. Matt grins wide. “Surprise. We made you dinner.” He gets up and pushes my chair closer to the table, dragging it on the floor again. He bends and places a soft kiss on my neck, whispering, “I wanted you all to myself.” He kisses again and then stands up straight to pour wine for both of us. “I don’t even know what to say.” I bite my lip and contemplate it. “I’m impressed. That scared the hell out of me.” And made me feel other things, but I can’t confess to those. It’s not part of the game. My stomach is in knots, good and bad. I was worried and anxious and there’s a subtle sweat on my brow from the blindfold, but all in all, I’m impressed more than anything. And turned on. Very turned on. “You said I could date you, but not have you. That was the toughest one for me. I’ve never really dated, and I don’t do well with not getting the thing I want.” He

offers me one of those grins. “Especially when I’ve had it already and I know how much I want to have it again.” “Matt—” “While I want you, more than I want anything in the entire world”—he lifts the tray lids, revealing boxes and sits back down with his smug friggin’ grin—“I respect your wishes and your deal. But I just want you to know, I have a counterplan. I am going to make you fall so in love with me, you will beg me to break all the rules and we will forget this deal.” He sips the wine, cockier than ever. “It’s a brilliant plan.” I feign confidence and lift the wine, offering a “Cheers,” and take a sip, deciding to go for the jugular since he has pretty much won me over with one attempt. It was the elevator. Whatever. “But you forget, you’re the first boy to break my heart. I have sworn to myself you will be the last boy to break it.” I put the wine down, avoiding all eye contact with the boxes. “So your plan is doomed to fail.” “We’ll see. Open them.” He waves one of his huge hands at the boxes. “Bribing me doesn’t work, Beast.” “It’s not what you think.” The gleam in his eyes is insufferable. “Fine.” I put down the glass and grab one of the small boxes, untying the satin ribbon and lifting the snug lid. It drags against the box until it’s free. Again, a smile crosses my lips. I lift my gaze to his, confused and yet impressed. “How did you get this?” It’s a Polaroid of a wall with a larger framed photo, a picture of me at the Lumineers concert with Nat next to me. We’re obviously singing at the top of our lungs with glossy eyes and astonished expressions. It might be the best picture ever taken of us. “Do you like it?” “I do,” my voice cracks. “Where is it?” I lift my gaze, scanning the area for it. “In my room. I can show you if you like.” He toys with his grin. Damn! He has a picture of me in his room? He’s really rocking this. I don’t even know how it’s possible he’s doing this well. I’ve lost the upper hand I’d thought I gained. Taking a breath and another sip, I put the picture down and grab the next box. My stomach grumbles with excitement and starvation. The ribbon and lid come off easier on this one. When I get the lid off, I’m confused. It’s a key with a violet bow as a keychain. I lift it, cocking an eyebrow. “You got me a house?” “No. That key represents my commitment to all of this.” He doesn't flinch at the word commitment, even though I do. “You and I will be spending Christmas together in London this year. That’s where this started four years ago, and it’s where it's going to end.” My eyes widen on “end.” “We’re going to start a new chapter there. A new beginning.” “Matt—” “That’s the key to my apartment in our building there. We’ll treat it the same as this thing we have going. It’s just a thing until New Year’s. From here on it’s nothing serious. Whatever games I have before Christmas, I’ll finish off, and then

you and I, we’ll fly that night to London. You’ll stay in London since we both know your parents will be there anyway. I’ll use the jet to get back for my games and then come directly back to you for New Year’s Eve where we will end this game. Even if I have a game New Year’s, which hopefully I don’t, I will skip to be with you. Then we can both fly home to the States for whatever my next game is.” “That’s insane. You’ll be exhausted.” “You’re worth it.” He doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the flights or saying that sentence. He has really upped his game since I ended everything, only I don't think this is a game anymore. I don't know what to do so I pretend this is all in fun. “You want to make this promise now? At the beginning of this little deal?” I sit back, not sure how to take this. “Sami, I don’t think you understand the depth of my feelings for you, which is my fault. I didn't understand either and I let you slip through my fingers. It’s my goal to show you, before anything else. So that when we do officially get together, you won’t ever doubt me again.” He leans across the table and pushes the last box to me. I’m no longer doubting him and am more or less doubting my own resolve to stay with this when I pick the next box. My fingers feel clammy and cold as I pull the ribbon off and lift the lid. Inside is a ticket. It’s not like any ticket I’ve ever seen. I lift it up, scowling. “What is this?” “It’s for a party. Will you come?” “When?” “I don't know. Depends on the playoffs. If we make it, the party will be in July and if we don't, it’ll be in May or June.” “I have school,” I add, not mentioning that I’ve changed my major and need to get some serious work done to graduate on time. I haven’t told anyone. Not even Nat. I didn’t want anyone to laugh when I said I wanted to go into business. “I know, but it’ll be worth skipping a couple days.” “Okay. What kind of party?” “A surprise.” Everything about this evening has been a surprise. My heart is racing. My mouth is watering like I might get sick. But I sip the wine, ignoring how bitter it tastes now. “You look worried.” He says it as though he might also be worried. “Can I be honest with you?” I’m a little light-headed. “I prefer it when you are.” “I didn't expect this. I made that deal with you, thinking you would show your true colors and disappoint me and save me from feeling anything for you. I figured the whole thing would eventually get boring and you would give up.” It’s mean. “You’re going to be very disappointed, if that's what you actually want.” His eyes are on fire, blazing with determination. “I meant everything I said that night at my party.” I gulp back some more wine, not sure what to add. Fortunately, the meal comes and I don't have to say anything.

CHAPTER 3

CHRISTENING

D ec. 31, 2015

Natalie The sea of boxes is daunting. “I think we have more shit than the last time we moved,” Brady groans and carries another box to the bedroom. “When I say we, I mean you.” “The movers did offer to unpack, you said no.” I sigh. “I don't need to pay people to do things I am perfectly capable of doing.” He’s grumpy from the last few days of travel, even if they won their previous three games and he scored twice. “Brady, you’re traveling all week to and from games, we’re moving, and it was just Christmas. Can we finish this later?” I glance at my phone to see the texts from Sami. We haven’t spoken since Christmas Eve, which has her texting me every tiny detail of her existence as if I’m a log book. We never fight like this so I want to text her back, but I need to make a stand on principle. The time catches my eye. “Mike and Liz are going to be here in six hours.” “Then stop screwing around on your phone and finish the kitchen.” He laughs bitterly. I lift my gaze, glaring at his back. “You’re sucking the joy outta this.” “Says the girl who ruined Christmas by pouting for a week straight. Your mom thinks I’m doing something to make you this way, and I can’t tell her it’s just you and Sami, as usual.” He carries another box to the bedroom. “I didn't ruin Christmas!” He pokes his head out the doorway, giving me that look, the one where he’s going to say something shitty. “Really? You didn't pout and cry and hide in my bedroom playing NHL 16 against my brother for hours? That didn't happen?” “Whatever.” “You made us stay in a hotel because you refused to sleep at Sami’s on the off chance she came home unexpectedly.” “It’s fine. I ruined Christmas. I get it.” I clench my jaw and start unpacking another box. “Nat. Come on, babe.” He puts the box down and comes to me, sweeping me into his arms. “I don't want to fight.” He kisses the top of my head, taking a deep

inhale. I want to push him away but the feel of him wrapped around me is exactly what I need. It’s calming and forces reason down my throat. He’s right. I’ve been hateful for days. “I’m sorry.” I say the thing I don't want to but have to. “I hate that I ruined our first Christmas.” “Don't sweat it, Banks. We’ll have lots of Christmases.” He kisses again, lingering and breathing me in. He smells like deodorant and a bit of sweat. It’s him. The smell that gets me every time. My hands drag up and down his chiseled back, slowly making their way forward to his chest. I slide them up his muscles, letting my fingertips dig in and scrape a bit on the way down. He gets the hint I’m giving and makes the move I want him to. He lowers his hands to my butt, cupping and lifting me into his arms. I wrap my legs around him, letting him carry me to the bedroom, savoring the smell of him as he brings me to the bed. The new mattress is still covered in plastic but it doesn't stop us. His lips make a trail from my neck to my cheek as he puts me down, stepping back and sighing. “Might be the best view I’ve ever had.” “What?” The comment makes my cheeks flush more than the humiliation of ruining Christmas like a jerk. “You in our bed, wearing my Superman tee shirt, in our apartment.” He bites his lip. “This is perfection.” “Then stop staring and get over here.” I blush harder and reach for his belt, pulling him to me. He cups my face, like he always does, and lowers his. The kiss is everything, light and teasing. Slowly our mouths melt into each other, tongues caressing and lips sucking. My heart rate picks up with my breath as his fingers spider walk to the hem of the tee shirt I stole from him. He drags it off, getting rougher as the desire builds in us both. I shiver from the coolness of being shirtless. His hands caress my bare back, unsnapping my bra and lowering it to toss to the side. I return the favor, helping him undo his belt and buttons. He pushes me back on the bed, running his palms over my stomach and chest, massaging my breasts when he covers them. He traps each of my nipples between his fingers, rolling them softly. A moan escapes my lips as he lowers over me, his warm breath making me gasp as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He draws me in, flicking with his tongue while still rolling the other nipple. My hips start to gyrate, rubbing my pelvis on his leg that’s between mine. He switches nipples, sucking in the other as his hands slide down my stomach, running a fingertip inside the waistline of my pants. Slowly he moves it lower, trapping his meaty fingers in my pants. I free him, undoing the button and zipper. He chuckles into my chest. “What do you want, baby?” He dips his fingertips into my underwear. “You want this?” “Yeah.” His fingers slide down my slit, making me realize I’m already in the mood for

this. He rubs in a circular motion, delicately massaging the tender flesh. My writhing and moaning becomes more aggressive as he does. He kisses up my chest to my neck, gently placing soft pecks on my collarbone but flooding the area with warmth from his breath as he whispers, “I love how wet you get for me.” He slides a finger inside me but keeps rubbing me with his thumb, moving the hand perfectly. It’s bordering on too much when the climax hits. My body clamps down, pulsating with the orgasm I’m having around his hand. He kisses my cheek, dragging his scruffy face against me. Waves of pleasure roll through me, delivering a release I didn’t know I needed. “Oh my God, that was good.” I huff my breath as I recover, blinking and licking my lips. “It’s about to get better.” He pulls his pants down and slides a condom on. He’s not gentle when he flips me over and hauls me to the edge of the bed, dragging my ass back to meet him. “I am going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget Christmas even happened.” He slides the head of his cock up and down my slit, pushing in when he gets to the right spot. I gasp into the plastic wrap on the mattress as he fills me up. “You ready to take it all?” He doesn't wait for the answer as he gives me one last gentle thrust before his fingers dig into my hips, bringing me to the position he wants and he lets me have it. He grunts and massages my ass as he slides in and out, faster than I’m ready for. The bed is so high on the frame I can just touch the floor, but I don't need to with the way he holds me in place and pumps into me, pinning me to the mattress. He folds over me, slowing the pace and kissing my back and neck. “God, you feel good.” The weight of him pressing me into the mattress and his body pushing into mine is divine. He caresses as I gyrate against him, rubbing my stimulated clit into the edge of the mattress. His body slamming into the back of mine sends tingles everywhere as he speeds up, dragging his entire shaft in and out. I close my eyes and tighten everywhere, letting the bliss of a second orgasm start to build. His pace is perfect, bringing me to a plateau and leaving me there for a couple of moments before the orgasm hits, claiming me and rolling inside me again. “Oh fuck, I can’t.” He pounds faster, squeezing me and groaning. His harder thrusts bring louder cries from me as he fills the condom, twitching and jerking. He slumps over me again, breathing heavily. My breaths fight to come out in gasps with the weight of him over me. “Fuck, I love you and just want to make this bed up and do the girlie cuddling thing until round two,” he murmurs into my neck, like it makes up for the quickie, “but we gotta finish unpacking first.” He gets up and slaps my ass. “Come on, Banks.” “You don't love me at all,” I moan into the sweaty plastic and push myself up, waddling to the bathroom. “Whatever.” He smiles, red-faced and satisfied-looking. “I wore a condom so you wouldn't have a drip—” “Stop! Whatever you’re about to say, don't.” I hold a hand up and push him out

of the bathroom, slamming the door. “Gross.” “Babe, I gotta clean up too.” “Go use the other bathroom. You’re disgusting, Brady!” I can’t help but laugh. There’s no denying some of it’s laughing at myself for dating the knuckle dragger. We unpack for hours, getting it done just in time. He isn’t like Sami; he doesn’t talk when he works. He just does. And when I talk he gives me a look like he’s tolerating what I have to say but it better end soon. I miss Sami. Even if she got engaged to an asshat after she spent all that time telling me I could do better. I use all the unpacking silence to rant about her in my head. It’s almost therapy. “See,” Brady interrupts my inner bitch session, “I told you we could get it done.” His grin turns to the dirty one that I love and hate equally. “All you needed was a little motivation.” He winks and flattens the last box. “A little lubrication to get the wheels moving.” “Gross.” I wipe the counters down, loving the feel of the granite. I always loved Sami’s marble counters in her houses. “You liked it.” He chuckles and comes over, wrapping around me and kissing the side of my neck. “And later, probably tomorrow, we can have sex in the bed.” “You are better in a bed,” I mock him. “You know I am.” He spins me around, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “I think you’re also good in seedy bars and I suspect elevators.” “No.” He shakes his head, turning serious. “No elevators. I can’t.” The conversation is interrupted by knocking. “They’re here!” His eyes light up. He and Mike Smolensky are basically soul mates. Like him and Asshat Matt. He opens the door, shouting, “Smolensky!” They hug like they haven’t seen each other in years, as opposed to weeks. “Blow Job!” They embrace like lovers. Liz creeps around the beastly guys making out, smiling wide at me. “Hey!” “Hey!” She and I hug in a much more civil way. She doesn't wrap her leg around me or slap me in the lady balls . . . “This place is great.” She checks out the apartment. “I love the white cabinets and the sparkly white granite together. It’s so fresh and clean. And tile floor in the kitchen, so much better than laminate.” I turn and face the apartment with her, marveling at what it all looks like. Our black leather couches contrast well with the light maple floors and pale icy-blue walls. “Yeah, the vaulted ceilings and huge wall of windows overlooking the park is what I like the best. It’s the same in the master bedroom too.” “The fireplace is awesome.” She strolls over, admiring everything. “It’s so grown up.” “I know, right?” I gush with her and move the tour to the games room. It consists of one sofa, a large TV, an Xbox, PlayStation, and a Wii. “We still have surround sound to set up, but other than that, this room’s done. The sofa turns into a bed.” I grin. “It’s like a guest room where guests can entertain themselves.” “After they fight you for the game controller,” she mutters. “It was so grown up.

This room here killed it.” “Whatever.” I walk to the door and guide her to the other bedroom as Brady leads Mike into the games room. Their booming voices make me laugh. “So is there a rule where Nat has to let you win a couple times?” Mike chuckles. “Shut up.” Brady has no response. “He doesn't stand a chance.” Liz laughs and enters the bedroom. “Wow, this is nice. And an en suite? This is a huge apartment.” She spins, taking it all in. The room looks plain with only a bed and two bedside tables. “We have to get lamps and more hangers. Someone has a lot of clothes.” My eyes dart to the doorway. Liz laughs and opens the walk-in closet. “This is nice.” She turns back, giving me a grin. “Okay, he does have a lot of clothes. You guys are like official and everything.” “Very.” My eyes widen. “Take a breath. It’s just living together. You haven’t signed a contract for the rest of your life. Everyone does it.” Her eyes dart to the doorway. “Apparently, we aren’t far behind you.” Her voice lowers, “He asked me to move in with him this summer.” “Oh my God. Really?” I can’t believe it. Another one of my friends and Brady’s? At least Mike is actually a nice guy, not a shit like Matt. “Yeah, Mike’s moving to New York in a few weeks. He’s been offered the contract where he finishes the season with New York and then he can be free something or other again and play for other teams.” “Very cool. Is he going to try to stay in New York?” “No. He hates the winter here. He wants to go to LA or Florida or somewhere like that.” She bites her lip, almost wincing. “So he wants me to move with him. Move in together.” “Dude.” She tucks her dark hair behind her ears. “I know. It makes me nervous but it also feels right.” She gushes a laugh. “I mean, why not? Ya know? Why not take a chance and see what happens? I mean, I can work from home. I don't need to be in an office.” “That’s very true.” “Anyway, I don't want to jinx it. Summer is a ways away. And him being in New York for the rest of winter and spring will be a good test for us, to see if it works for us to be apart. See how we really feel about each other.” Her pale cheeks are a soft pink. I don't know how red she actually gets. She’s incredibly pasty. “How was Christmas?” “Shit,” I blurt before thinking and cover my mouth. “I mean, it was intense. Brady got the apartment and asked me to move in and I was really excited, and then Sami got engaged or something. She says she isn’t but there’s a ring.” “What!” Her eyes pop open wide. She couldn't be more surprised. “Thank you. My response too.” “Sami Ford is getting married? To who?” “Exactly. That is my point exactly. She and Matt don't have anything beyond bed buddies status. I mean, he’s basically made her a puck buddy and now she’s going

to marry him? Like gross.” “Oh my God. That's awful. Why?” Her horrified face matches my disgusted outlook on the subject. “Not a clue. I assume her parents. Her dad wants decisions out of her. He sees her as a commodity that needs to start earning its keep. She has to marry for money—Matt’s family is crazy rich—or she has to start working. She’s taking crap subjects in school that will never get her a real job. Which is fine for her; she’s lazy like all rich people so she’s going to marry and get her dad off her back. And she thinks I can’t see this. She looked miserable when she accidentally told me. That’s the other thing. She didn't even call me to tell me she was engaged, she—” “Banks, are you ruining New Year’s too?” Brady calls from the other room where I can already hear the video games going. “Shut up,” I snap and storm into the kitchen to open wine. Liz follows, whispering, “That is awful. I can’t believe someone would—” “Rich people. They live the most messed up existences.” I lower my voice even more as I pour us both a glass and pass one to her before leading her to the couches in front of the fireplace. “All of my friends’ parents are married to people their parents handpicked. No one makes up their own mind about anything. And Sami has always been the one to rebel. I really thought I knew her better than this.” “Maybe they love each other.” Liz shrugs. “No.” I shake my head. “She doesn't love him. She doesn't know how to love. No one ever showed her that kind of love.” I hate saying it but it’s true. Her whole life is so fake, there’s no way Sami had a hope to be anything but. I wish she could be as happy as Liz and me. I wish she knew certainty the way I do. Brady Coldwell is all I want. And I can tell by the look on Liz’s face, Mike is everything to her.

CHAPTER 4

DINNER AND SHOW

M ay 24, 2015

Sami Smearing plumper lip gloss across my lips, I rub and smack them once, giving myself the final once-over. Whatever this stupid date is, I need to make sure I don't give into anything. It’s been hard but I’ve maintained a sex-free relationship with him, even if he makes me weak in the knees just by walking. “Sami?” “What!” I shout at my mom harsher than I intended to. “You had better watch how you speak to me.” She enters the room, looking pissed. “What is going on with you? Nadia is crying. She won’t tell me what happened, but I think I know now.” She folds her thin arms across her fake chest. “Why are you in such a foul mood?” “Whatever. I just want everyone to leave me alone.” “You will apologize to her or you will lose your staff.” She tilts her head, like she’s daring me to say another thing. I contemplate it, but don't. “Nadia!” mom shouts, clearly annoyed. Nadia enters red-eyed and her face is puffy. I don't even know what I did to her. I’m wracking my brain but nothing stands out. “You will tell me what happened, Nadia.” Mom doesn't turn and look at Nadia, she doesn't have to. She’s sort of like the evil stepmom to Nadia’s Cinderella. She fears my mother more than anyone in the world. I roll my eyes at it frequently. But not today. “I’m being sensitive, Mrs. Ford. It was nothing.” “Nadia.” I start to feel bad. “What happened?” “It-it was when you asked me if I felt almost as stupid as I was, in front of Vincenzo.” Her eyes well again and she looks down. “Oh my God. I said that? I’m sorry.” I say it fast, too fast. I hate that I snapped at her. “I’m really sorry, Nadia.” Honestly, I don't even recall saying it. I can’t think of the moment it happened. But Nadia is the best, so it did. She doesn't make things up or complain. “Sami—” “Mom, I get it.” My gaze hardens as it hits her. “I know. I’m in a horrible mood

and I’m sorry. No one deserves to be spoken to that way, it won’t happen again.” I give Nadia an attempt at a smile. “I’m really sorry.” “It’s fine.” She nods, desperate to be away from this awkwardness. Mom gives me a once-over, cocking an eyebrow. “Where are you going?” “Out with a friend.” “Not that Brimley boy again.” She spits his name. “He’s richer than we are. How can you possibly disapprove of him?” “That’s very nice for him and his family. But your father and Richard Palfrey have been speaking about you and Zachary spending time together. We were sort of hoping to all have a weekend together here soon. The families were thinking perhaps a weekend at their family cottage.” “No thanks. I have school.” I walk past her, offering Nadia a look. “I really am sorry.” I leave the room, pausing down the hall as my mom speaks. “How often does that Brimley boy come here?” “He doesn't.” “Nadia, don't misplace your loyalty.” My mother sounds fierce. I could slap her for trying to get Nadia to betray me. “I’m not, Mrs. Ford. Mr. Brimley doesn't come here. He came at Christmas and slept in a separate room. I believe they’re just friends.” “Well, I’m not convinced,” she snaps. I hurry to the next room, ducking in the doorway so she walks past me, clicking her heels in protest. When Nadia strolls past I grab her arm, causing her to jump. I slide a finger to my lips. “Thanks,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I told her.” “Don't be. I shouldn't have snapped at you. This whole Matt thing has me going crazy. And school’s a mess. I’m doing double the number of subjects to graduate on time. I’m sleeping four hours a night. In other words, I’m sorry. There’s no excuse.” It’s all I have. It’s what Nat would say. “It’s okay. I’m feeling sensitive, like I told your mother.” Her cheeks flush with color, and I can’t help but wonder what that's all about. But I also have to go. “I’ll be home early. Matt is taking me out to some stupid party. I don't even know. But I have homework to do.” “Did you tell your mom that you switched majors?” “No. My being anything beyond a socialite is incomprehensible to her.” I mutter it as I check my phone again. Matt’s sent some weird message for me to give to Vincenzo. When I glance back up she has a weird smirk on her face. “You know, for all the games you’ve played with him, eventually you’re going to have to admit you really like this boy.” My lips part to disagree but the words don't come out. Instead, I sigh and she hugs me. “And he really likes you,” she whispers. “I hope so.” I hug back. “I better go. Thanks.” I feel like shit for being rude to her. She’s a soft person, like Nat, only softer. She doesn't do conflict well. Or shitty

attitudes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiles and I wave, slipping out into the hall and down the stairs. I don't want another argument over the boys or being a disappointment. I’m literally exhausted and I’m getting too old for them. I’m technically too old to live at home, but it’s not exactly living at home right now; it’s living in a house my parents infrequently visit. But not for long. I have a plan. Come winter, I’ll have it all figured out. Vincenzo is waiting for me on the street when I get outside. He smiles wide as I flash the text message at him. “Interesting,” he says and opens the door for me. We leave the city, heading in a direction I never go, north toward Yonkers. I glance at the text again, the numbers and letters mean nothing to me. Bored, I text Nat, wondering how her day is going and telling her all about mine: school, school, school. She doesn’t answer back, probably already zoned out in a video game. I check our snaps and wince when I notice William the Douche in the background of the last photo she sent. Of course. He’s home for the weekend. I need to figure out a way to break them up. It’s been bugging me for ages, not sure how to go about it. How does one ruin another person’s relationship, without losing that person as a friend? I contemplate calling Linda about it, but I need to maintain my independence. Being in therapy for the rest of my life is not part of the plan. It isn't as if I grew up in a cult or was abused or had some horrific experiences and need to be coddled. My life is great. My parents’ expectations are ridiculous and antiquated but there are ways around that. I am currently working on that plan and it’s coming along nicely. At least it will be when I get some sleep. When we finally stop at something resembling a castle, I recognize it but can’t place it for a moment. Vincenzo gets the door and it clicks. “Are we in Tarrytown?” I laugh as if this is a joke. But he just grins. Limos and cars fill the parking lot and one person stands out in the crowds of people milling about the entrance. Matt in a suit, casual with no tie and his shirt open a bit, is across the parking lot from me. His playoff scruff is gone but his hair is still to his cheeks. The other people start to ring bells in my head. They’re players, cleaned up players. I tighten everywhere, realizing he’s invited me to a hockey party. We stare at each other, neither of us moving. He has that cheesy grin, the one suggesting he’s won this round before we’ve even played it. I glare, completely pissed off that he would actually break a rule and say I’m his girlfriend to bring to the wife party. But when I turn to get back into the car it drives off. Vincenzo leaves me in Tarrytown! My jaw drops as he speeds away, turning the corner as if I might have run after him, in my heels . . . I contemplate calling and screaming at him, but I know better. Someone will record it and Sami Ford the diva will be blasted all over TMZ again. And after how I

just treated Nadia, my mom will never believe me that I was provoked. Not that I think this has anything to do with Vincenzo. I spin, snarling at Matt as he saunters over, gloating with even his walk. “Don't be pissed. It isn’t what you think.” “We have rules, Matt.” I fold my arms across my chest, ready to call a cab and suffer through that to make a point. “This isn’t breaking them. It’s a party, you and I have a thing, in fact we’re friends. I needed a date and not a PF. It’s a classy event, end-of-year party. I can’t just bring anyone so I asked my friend Sami and she said yes. Nothing more.” “That's really what you told them?” I’m skeptical. “I didn't tell them shit. It’s what I’ve done.” He offers me his arm. “Now come on before you make more of a scene than Vincenzo speeding out of here.” His words are spoken in that tone that suggests this is not open for discussion. “Fine.” I take his arm. “But don't expect me to be nice to anyone or have fun.” “I have no expectations, Sami. None.” He strolls to the door. “But you do look beautiful.” He lowers and kisses the side of my head. “No affection. We’re friends.” I jerk away, putting on an attempt at a pleasant version of resting bitch face, and let him lead us inside. Of course the obvious happens. I’m spotted. “They’re staring,” I mutter. “No, simply surprised to see me with a girl. I never am. Ever.” He laughs but I can see the mouths wording my name in hushed voices. “I should remind you, this is the wives club, so if you see a guy with a different girl than the last time you saw them out and about in the city, don't mention it. There are wives and then there’s the side dish. This is a wife party.” “Let me guess, the wives have never done the scenic tour of Harlem in the back of a limo.” I jab him right in the heart. He wants to play this game of ambush; I can use it against him. “Sami.” He warns with words and a tightened grip. “Not everyone believes in having a side dish. Some guys are perfectly happy with the one woman they’re with and are incredibly loyal. Not everyone cheats.” One of the forwards comes over, smiling wide and interrupting my lecture. “Sami Ford, holy shit. You’re hotter in real life, how is that possible?” He’s young and maybe drunk already. “Eckelston, this is Sami Ford. Sami, this is Lawrence Eckelston. He’s a rookie too.” As if I didn't already know that. “Call me Lori, everyone else does.” Eckelston passes his beer to Matt and wraps both arms around me, hugging and lifting me off the ground. He spins and puts me down, leading me away from Matt. I couldn’t be more surprised by his familiarity with me, or the touching. He’s not like other people. “So tell me, what are you doing here with a guy like Brimstone?” “I don't know.” It's the God’s honest truth. “Well, let’s get you a drink and you can tell me all about how you believe in love at first sight too.” The charming rookie leads me to the bar. “This place is cool, eh? Sleepy Hollow and all that.”

“Are you Canadian?” I almost grimace at him being Canadian but also that Tarrytown’s cool. Clearly, he hasn't seen the rest of Sleepy Hollow or know that the last Canadian Matt hung out with left quite the impression, even though I didn't know him. “I’m dual, Canadian and American. From BC, just outside of Vancouver, but my parents are Americans.” He speaks like a Canadian. “And you’re a New Yorker, right?” “Sort of.” I eye him suspiciously. “I grew up in Connecticut.” “You and Brimstone live that nonsense with the servants and drivers and butlers.” He smiles and holds his fingers up to the bartender. “We do.” I don't know what the hell is going on. This random guy’s hitting on me, everyone’s still talking about me, and Matt is nowhere to be seen. This is great. “My mom’s family lives like that. They’ve all got maids and a butler and a driver. My grandpa has cars in this garage and he doesn't drive them. He pays someone to drive him around in them. It’s weird. I mean the maid and cook I get, I have that too. But the whole dude driving my sports cars for me, I don't think so.” “What does your grandfather do?” “Mostly truck building. They’re in Washington.” “Truck building?” I don't know if he means car dealership or not. “Yeah, my mom’s a Pigott. They made tanks and railway cars and now big rigs.” I almost cough. I absolutely know who the Pigotts are. His family is almost as rich as Matt’s. “And you play hockey?” I don't understand how everyone’s family allows this. Even Zach Palfrey is apparently playing hockey now. “Yeah. They’re cool about it. Honestly, I think my grandpa is stoked I’m making my own money and not sponging off the family company.” He chuckles. “I didn't need them to create another position at the top for me.” I almost laugh but remember that could be my future if my plans don't work. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He clears his throat and smiles wide again. Unfortunately, him being the grandson of a billionaire makes him that much more attractive. I am that shallow. He was cute five minutes ago, now he’s one of us. “So Vancouver? Not really my kind of city. All the yoga pants and puffy winter coats are a bit overdone.” I take the beer he’s ordered for me, cocking an eyebrow at it. “Vancouver is wicked but the problem there is it’s so far from everything. Sort of the way LA is. There’s just nothing awesome out West. The world sort of gravitates toward this side of the country.” He leans on the bar, grinning down on me. “Now tell me how you met Brimstone.” He narrows his honey-brown eyes as if he’s already analyzing the answer I haven’t given yet. “Why, what did he say?” “You met at one of those awful Young Republicans meetings. You were around twelve and the moment he saw you he was smitten. Some crap like that.” A laugh slips out. “That’s what I figured.” He laughs too. “We met in London. It was late at night, early morning a few years ago. He made

sure I got home safe and we’ve been friends ever since.” Which is a complete lie based on all the truth. “The Young Republicans sound like more fun.” His smile fades as he takes a big drink of beer. I follow suit, not loving the fact I am drinking my meal. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grins again. “So you are just friends?” He asks it as Matt is walking up to us. “Sorry?” I pretend I didn't hear it. “You and Matt, you’re just friends?” “Yeah, just friends. Nothing more.” I can’t fight the shitty grin on my lips, knowing Matt has heard it all. “Well, I wouldn't say just friends.” Matt stands next to us, towering over me like a dark shadow. “I mean, I did cook for you and let you win at checkers.” “Oh damn, girl, he cooked for you?” Lori laughs and murmurs, “Whipped,” loud enough for us to hear. “Maybe.” Matt confesses, still staring at me. “No.” I shake my head. “Matt has a thing for puck bunnies.” I glance back at Lori. “Guys who like trashy girls aren’t really my thing.” Lori holds his hands up innocently. “Never touched one myself. Can’t stand trashy girls that let you have sex anywhere you want it. Gross.” He drinks from the beer again. Matt’s glare is actually trying to light me on fire. “Well, I’m going to powder my nose. It was lovely meeting you.” I hand the beer to Matt and saunter off. The room is uninviting, as hell. Every girl in here is giving me the look, the one that says they know me. They read about me in the papers and rag magazines so they clearly have me pegged. I’m that spoiled slut who wants to take their man, ruin poor innocent Matt, and then move on to the next party. I’m probably going to the bathroom to do a couple of lines of coke so I can be fun. I finally locate the bathroom and sit on the makeup bench, pulling my phone out. I text Nat again. 911 Dear God, what now? she answers. Can I call? I’m in the movie theater. Call in an hour. Will has a theater room at his house. Your pedestrian is showing. I sigh and call Carson. He’s better than nothing. “Miss Ford, to what do I owe the honor of an actual phone call?” He chuckles into the phone. “I need a rescue.” “The hockey party isn’t all you hoped it would be?” He laughs harder. “How do you know I’m here? Vincenzo left me in the fucking parking lot and drove away.” I click the lock on the main door to the bathroom and sit back down. “Matt has some skills at planning dates. Who knew?” “This isn’t a date, Carson. It’s a work party. It’s like obligatory Friday night fun

that only couples force each other into. And he didn't ask me, he surprised me ambush style. I didn't even dress appropriately. The women here are in cocktail dresses and the guys are in casual suits. They don't even match, and I look like I might be down with some brunch or maybe an evening of drinking wine with friends.” Speaking of that, I whine, just a little, “And Nat’s in the theater, the actual public one, with dipshit, so she won’t come get me. I know Vincenzo has been bought off. I might have to take a cab.” “Dear God, woman, it can’t be that bad there. Doesn't one of the Pigotts play for the Rangers now?” He sounds distracted. “Yeah, Lori. He’s hilarious. A crazy Canadian. He’s good people. Just stay by him the whole night.” “Yeah, so? He isn’t worth my time. He’s another Matt; he’s not the inheriting Pigott. He’s only a grandson.” “Oh my God.” He laughs, no longer distracted. “Did you seriously just say that aloud?” “You know what I mean. There’s no point in getting the photos and being seen together if my dad won’t even be interested in the lineage.” “Since when do you give a shit about that?” He isn’t laughing anymore. “Since lately. I don't want to be married off. I don't want to be disinherited. And I don't want to become Ivanka Trump where my dad has to create a spot in his company for me. I want to do my own thing. So I have to be smart about it.” “Well, well, well. Someone is catching on. I can’t believe you've finally grown up enough to play the game without being forced into the little-woman spot.” He gives in. “If you really want a ride, I’ll send a car. But I think you should stick it out. He has something very worthy planned out for you. Something I know you’ll love.” “Fine.” I am as defeated as I sound. “But I’m not talking to the wives. They’re bitchy whores who hate the fact their husbands cheat on them with sluts. Not that I blame them; the whole PF thing is disgusting. I’d be bitter too.” “You mean you are bitter.” He chides. “No.” That is off limits still. “Ignore the wives, Sami. Don't talk to them. Flirt with their husbands and make them pay for being horrid little bitches. You’re Sami-fucking-Ford, act like it.” His pep talk makes me stand up straighter. “You’re right. They already think I’m the nastiest slut in the world, why not be her?” “Keep it tame though, Matt doesn't need to be embarrassed. Be smart about it.” “I will.” A wicked smile crosses my mouth as I hang up and re-gloss my lips. I check my outfit, unbutton one more button of the Ann-Sofie beige shirtdress I just got at the London ready-to-wear, and tighten the brown belt slightly. It’s paired with nude caged lace-up heels and rose gold jewelry. It isn’t cocktail worthy, but it’s fun and flirty and makes my tanned skin and tawny hair glow. “And it’s on, bitches.” I unlock the bathroom and strut out, ready to destroy some relationships. I’m full of smiles when I walk right back up to Lori. Matt’s eyes narrow suspiciously. He’s knows me too well, even better than Nat. He knows this is as fake as I get. “So, Lori, does your family ever vacation in Europe?” I take my beer back from

Matt. “Yeah, my parents have a couple of places we frequent. My mom is a huge fan of London so we have a flat there, which is nice a couple of times a year, but I’m more of a winter sports kind of guy. Fortunately, Dad loves Colorado so the winter house is in Steamboat.” “There’s a place called Steamboat?” I act like I’ve never been there. “There is. Actually, I think you’ve been there. I was there snowboarding when I was a kid and you were there. I saw you.” “This happens to her a lot. She’s bad with faces,” Matt adds, visibly annoyed, probably because I’m talking to Lori and not grateful enough that he brought me to this spa in Tarrytown to hang with the hateful eight in the corner. “We travel a lot.” He laughs and I laugh and Matt groans. The laughing brings a couple of other players over. They introduce themselves and their wives. I skim over the women, barely even acknowledging them, but bat my lashes and laugh and joke with the men until Matt has officially lost it. Lori is mid story, making us all giggle nonstop when Matt cuts in. “Anyway, I think the show is about to start.” He grabs me by the arm, not roughly, but firmly. Everyone stops laughing and talking to glance at him and then to the far end of the room where there’s a curtain. Nothing’s there but the curtain walling off part of the room. “What show?” I ask, assuming this was it. “The show, before-dinner show.” He gestures his head at the curtain. “Okay.” I smile at him and the circle of men I have garnered. We’ve officially split the room into men on one side and women on the other, and I’m the only girl on the boys’ side. We ignore what Matt’s said and turn back to Lori as he goes back into a story we were all enjoying. “So then Dad says that the helicopter has to make a landing and —holy shit, is that the Lumineers?” He turns his head back to the curtain. “What?” I almost shout, spinning around and gasping as the curtain’s down and the band is standing in position. As the rest of the heads turn, Wesley Shultz starts playing a song I don’t know. My gaze darts from the band and back to Matt. Matt and back to the band. The smug glare in his eyes would suggest he might have planned this, he might have organized it. But how? And why? Why would he want to have the poor Lumineers come and play for these people? Is this for me? Fuck! “It’s all for you. You know that, right?” he whispers in my ear, reading my mind. Double fuck. He places a single kiss on my cheek as he leads me to the back of the room. “How do you like your crow pie, Sami?” He almost sings the words, he’s so pleased with himself. “Warm.” I jerk free and let go of the excitement I have bubbling inside me. The hateful wives club fades into the background. The players, I only really care

about when they have a jersey on and stick in hand, become nothing more than blurred faces. And Matt is something in the back of my mind I’ll have to deal with later. The Lumineers become everything and they give it their all, washing away my feelings and doubts. By the time it’s over and they’re gone, always scurrying off before we can fan over them, I’m happy. Just as dinner is served, everyone attacks Mat to thank him for the wonderful entertainment. I’m hot from frothing for an hour straight and need some air. I saunter to the front door, caught up to by Lori. He links my arm in his, joining me on the stroll out into the cool air. “You shouldn’t walk around out here alone, I heard Tarrytown is kinda rough, people lose their heads and shit.” He winks. “Yes, I have heard that.” I let him have that cheesy attempt at humor. “Man, I can’t believe Matt got the Lumineers to come here. I love the them. I saw them in Van, it was amazing. Caught them once at a local bar in Colorado too. True musicians.” He leads me to a garden path, slowly strolling like we might be a couple. But then he spins me, catching me completely off guard. “What is going on with you and Matt, for real?” “I don’t know, why?” “Because I want to taste that lip gloss, and I do not step on another man’s toes. Bros before hos.” “That rhymed.” “Are you dating or not?” His stare intensifies, burning me. “Not.” The word hurts. It’s not a lie, even if my heart suggests it’s also not a truth. “We had a thing but now we’re just friends who hang out sometimes.” “You look sad when you say that.” He takes a step back. “Like you wish it were more.” “I do.” I can’t believe I said that aloud. “I guess. I really liked him.” “What happened?” He’s prying and I am disclosing. It’s weird. “Tandy.” “Tandy the puck fuck?” He wrinkles his nose. “Brimstone doesn’t strike me as a ‘dip your quill in the communal ink’ kinda guy. You could skydive in that vagina. Most of the team has. Bro. Tandy?” He’s baffled. “No. I won’t believe it. Guys have to leave a breadcrumb trail to escape that. There’s no way Brimstone went in there. Not without a ball of thread at least.” He laughs at his own joke. I lift my phone and tap the screen until I am in the deleted photos section. I come and go with deleting this particular photo so it never really actually leaves me. It makes me physically ill, but I spin the phone around and flash him the pic. “Oh God! Gross.” He turns away, no longer chuckling about big vagina jokes. “What happened to his face?” “Rough game. But you’re kinda missing the point of the picture.” “No, I got it.” He looks how I feel about it. “Wait, is that the photo Laramie took?” His eyes bug out and he grabs the phone, inspecting it. “This is what got Laramie traded, and me here. I didn’t know it was Tandy in the photo. How the fuck do you have this? Coach got rid of all the evidence.”

“Tandy actually messaged me this little gem herself.” This is more than I have told anyone beyond Carson. “Wait, this is why you and Brimstone aren’t dating? I hate to help the competition out, but you’ve been lied to. This Tandy chick’s a puck bunny, yes, but he didn’t bang her. Or get his pistol suck started. That Laramie guy was in love with Brimstone, or obsessed anyway. The way I heard it was he sent some girl in there, obviously Tandy, and she pretty much raped Brimley. His head is back ‘cause there’s soap on it. I heard the whole story. He was washing his hair and she just suck starts him by surprise. Matt was fucking angry. He pushed her away and sent her packing, shouted at her. It was a whole scene. Bunnies aren’t allowed in the change rooms anymore. Dude, you’re pissed about nothing. I thought you meant because of the Christmas part—anyway, the whole thing was a misunderstanding.” His cheeks flush and my heart stops. “Christmas party?” “Oh, you know Tandy.” He laughs but I don’t. “No, I don’t actually!” I snap and stare at him, waiting for the answer. “Uhhhh, you’re gonna have to ask Brimstone that one. I don’t know what happened, just that he shot her down. Twice apparently.” All the charm is gone and my insides are aching. “I think I hate all these PFs and the gross shit. I don’t think I could ever date a player, it’s too seedy.” “Yeah,” he mutters, getting the point I’m making. “Can you wait around for me to retire?” He nudges me, laughing again. “I have weak knees. It won’t be a long career.” “Sure.” I smile but my heart’s not in it. In fact, my poor mosaic heart is chipping away again as my brain repeats the words “Christmas party.”

CHAPTER 5

MAGIC VAG

J anuary 2, 2016

Natalie A noise startles me and I lift my gaze to the doorway of the games room. “Hello?” Brady’s at a game so there shouldn’t be anyone here. “It was romantic.” Sami staggers in, looking rough. I can’t tell if she’s drunk or exhausted, and I have no idea how she got inside the apartment. “He took me to this place I’ve always wanted to go to, and he asked me to be in a serious relationship and to think about marrying him, and it was sort of perfect.” She slumps onto the sofa with glistening eyes and a trembling lip. She looks like she might cry, but I know she won’t. She never does. “And I wanted to call you or ask him to redo the whole thing on FaceTime with you watching.” She blinks a single tear down her cheek, breaking my heart. “But I couldn’t.” She whispers the last part. “Because I made such a mess of everything so I had to tell you the whole story before I could tell you this.” “What are you talking about?” I fling the remote and turn to face her, her and that giant diamond. I want to touch it and try it on and pet it, but we need to focus on this. She faces me, revealing things I haven’t ever seen in her eyes before. “I love him, Nat. I have loved him forever.” “I know that, dipshit. But I don’t think the feelings are reciprocated as intensely.” I choke the words out, not wanting to be this honest with her, at all. “They are.” She sniffles. “He loves me more than anything.” She drops her gaze. “I see that now.” “Well, then he’s amazing at holding his cards close to his—” “I made him,” she blurts, cutting me off. “I have to tell you the whole story.” She lowers her voice, “Don’t judge me.” “I always judge you, it’s our thing. Just tell me.” I’m terrified. Her lips part. I watch them talk for a while, not believing what I’m hearing. The introduction makes me swoon. I can imagine his coat and the way it smells. The club, I hardly recall. He and I hadn’t been introduced then, but I know we were jackasses to him. She goes through each year, each moment they’ve known each other. I remember a lot of them, but not the way she’s describing it. His cold

actions make almost perfect sense. I actually start to feel bad for him. “And the night he got drunk and put on the strip show was the night Rich told me about William. I needed the distraction so I didn't tell you everything. So Matt made our night amazing, got drunk and did everything we dared him to do, including strip.” I zone out for a second on that part of the story. He did make the night amazing. When I hear her words again she’s into the summer. The highs of their relationship make me see it, the love they have. The lows make me sick. Tandy, the limo, and the big fight are awful. They break my heart, not just for her but for me too. She suffered alone, she never shared this with me. She acted like everything was fine, her curse. The deal she made with him is the worst part of the story. Her cruelty is unmatched by his stupidity. His dirty deeds don’t even come close to hers. He has excuses for the things he did. She had wounded pride and was embarrassed by him so she ruined their year. It’s awful and not something I imagined her capable of. “The worst part is when Lori told me the Tandy story, I knew Matt hadn’t done anything wrong and I could have asked him, but I kept it going instead. I made him suffer because he broke my heart.” She wipes her eyes, smearing mascara everywhere. “And somehow he still wants to be with me.” She starts to laugh. “It is clearly a case of mistaken magic vag.” “You’re an idiot.” I laugh too and succumb to the charms of Sami Ford, as I always do. I wrap around her, shaking my head. “You’re judging me, I can feel it.” “Yeah, I am. But I still love you. Even if you’re insane and cruel and hateful and sneaky.” “Yeah.” Sami grips me. “But if I do marry him, I need a maid of honor so you can’t give up on me until after the wedding.” “Oh God, what did your parents say?” “They don’t know.” She sighs and gets control of herself, still sniffling but less shaky. “He never asked for permission?” I wince, unable to imagine how this is all going to go over. “No. There’s nothing to talk about yet. It’s like the pre-pre-engagement.” She sniffles. “And anyway, his parents should be grateful to marry into my family and my dad can’t be disappointed by his. His mother is better bred than I am and his dad is a bigger billionaire than mine. It’s exactly what my parents want.” “Yeah, that’s true.” “Can we be excited now?” She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “I’m in an adult relationship for the first time in my life.” “I’m excited if you are. You can’t blame me for thinking it was a bad idea.” I need to say the thing that’s bugging me the most in it, “Why didn’t you just tell me everything that’s been going on as it happened? Why the secrecy? I mean, I knew he was very into you for a while and then he wasn’t and then he was, and then this last year he sort of just was there in the background as a thing in your life. Meanwhile, you were really having one of the hardest years ever. I could have

helped you.” “I was embarrassed he’d played me so hard and I didn’t want you to hate him.” “You were protecting him from me?” I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah. You’re a savage.” She laughs too. “I guess, but who have you been talking to for support?” “Carson knew the whole story and so did Lori.” “You’ve replaced your secret shrink with a hockey player from Canada and a bisexual junkie?” It’s a slap in the face. Her eyes widen. “You knew about Linda?” “Of course I knew about Linda. I have eyes. Why do you think I’ll hate Matt? I never hate anyone.” “Yes, you do. Have you forgiven any of the girls who screwed around with Douche Nozzle? Have you forgiven Douche Nozzle himself? Have you forgiven your mom for a single thing she has ever done? No. This is who you are. Do you remember that time we ordered pizza and the guy brought the wrong pizza to the house? And for the last five years you have ensured that we don’t get that guy? He doesn’t even work there, and you still write down a special request in the order not to have him. You don’t forgive anyone. Ever. And you remember shit forever. You can tell me exactly who did what and when for all of high school. I point to a girl and say, ‘Hey, there’s so and so,’ and you say ‘OMG, she’s such an asshole, remember that time’—every time.” She gasps her breath. “Okay, I hold grudges. Whatever. I’ve forgiven Brady for being a whore and sleeping with a girl in my office.” I point out. “Brady doesn’t owe you an apology, he never cheated on you. He did those things before you ever met him. He’s as innocent as a preacher’s sheets.” “Maybe don’t use preachers and Brady in the same—” “You know what I mean. Brady is basically a saint. Yes, he had some fun before he met you, he had enough fun for twenty or thirty people, but he did it before. He doesn’t owe you shit. The office girl is unfortunate, but not his fault. And you hold grudges and stew and grumble and hate on things.” “Okay, God! I get it,” I snap back. We’re both breathing heavy and looking savage. “I should have told you.” She finally admits it. “It’s been horrible keeping it from you.” “And it’s hurtful to know you kept something from me, but I get it. I mean, you got kind of engaged and I ruined my first Christmas with Brady and moving into the new place.” “You did?” she gushes. “Yes, dick. I did. I was so mad at you I didn’t care about anything else,” I huff. She hugs me again. “I love you.” “I love you too.” “Now that we love each other again”—she pulls back, giving me a strange smile —“I have a business proposition for you.” She gets up and grabs her portfolio, dragging her iPad from it. “I want to be partners.” She grins wide and I am terrified she has lost her mind.

CHAPTER 6

RICHARD, THE LION HEART

J uly 6, 2015

Sami “So you love him?” Lori nudges me, looking quite sharp in his suit. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.” It’s the lie I tell myself most often so it rolls off the tongue like silk. “I do know I’m not interested in a relationship, not right now.” “That’s sad, ‘cause I think Brimstone is in love with you. Like the real kind. Getting to know him better this last bit has made me see what a mess he is, and I blame you. You’re probably the one who ruined the playoffs for us. I mean, he hardly scored. Guys gotta be scoring here, to score there.” He points at his dick and then out at the rest of the ballroom. It’s the least appropriate thing I have ever seen done in a ballroom. “That’s disgusting. Where were you when I was eighteen and getting in shit and ready to burn places like this to the ground?” “I was learning to drive and getting my braces off.” He smiles his perfectly straight teeth as if they’re proof. “It’s a shame we didn’t meet earlier in life.” “Yeah, not gonna lie, Ford. You are not the wild child I was told about. I figured we’d meet at the end-of-year party, drink till we make out, and have a threesome with one of the servers.” He waves his hand up and down my body. “I don’t know what this is.” “It’s Valentino.” I grin. “I know the dress, not the girl in it.” Lori rolls his eyes. “What are we discussing?” Carson saunters over, his tie is already undone and his pupils are dilated. “Me being lame.” “’Tis true. You sold out of the cool club a while ago.” His eyes narrow as he scans the large room filled with people. “I blame him.” He points right at Matt who is in the middle of shaking some fat senator’s hand. “He ruined you.” “He ruined a lot of things.” I blink and glance elsewhere, anywhere but at Matt. We haven’t spoken much since the end-of-season mixer. His lame story of a second sexual assault by the team ho is fishy as hell. What girl sexually assaults

guys? And why? It isn’t hard for hot slutty girls to get laid. The whole thing bothers me. Maybe more so because that was the Christmas party he didn’t take me to. He took Brady after he’d already asked me to go and then changed his mind last minute. He said he had forgotten he invited Brady, but it seemed suspect at the time. Even more suspect now. Nat starts making her way to us from across the massive room, obviously drunker than I had hoped she would get. “What is that and why is it staggering like that towards us?” Lori wrinkles his nose. “It’s Nat. Her off-again, on-again boyfriend is William Fairfield, and he’s a piece of shit who routinely messes things up with her. And she routinely takes him back.” Carson sighs. “She’s gorgeous but that’s too heavy for me. I’m going to fuck—that one.” Lori points at a brunette with a silver gown and an obvious bumpit under her hair. “You can do better.” I grimace. “I know. I don’t want better. I want trailer-trash bumpit girl.” He hands me his beer. “Here.” “I don’t want that, or to know how you know what a bumpit is,” I groan as he walks away. “How did you even get beer here?” I hand the beer to Carson. “Why can’t he drink scotch?” “I don’t know. He’s a West Coaster. They drink craft beer and wear winter hats in the summer. I can’t explain it to myself, how can I explain it to you?” His eyes narrow on Nat who is almost to us. “Why don’t I go sober her up while you go find Rich Fairfield and see if he wants a dance.” Carson gives me a knowing eyebrow waggle. “He says he has something he’s dying to tell you.” “Fine. Get her coffee and fries. She needs starches. And sparkling water with lime for her next drink. She won’t know it’s got no booze in it.” I make my way around the room, smiling and shaking hands and being the daughter my father always wanted me to be. Not because he wants it, but because I do. I have a plan and it involves my image in every way possible. Matt tries to make eye contact with me. He wants to talk, but I can’t. Not while Nat is drunk and Carson’s high, and Lori’s banging the bumpit girl, and Rich wants to talk to me, and my brain’s fried from school. I just can’t do another Matt escapade, not right now. I need a few weeks of stress free. Not to mention, he looks amazing in the suit. His dark eyes haunt my very step and make me think about the fact it’s been months since we had sex. I force my eyes away from him and continue on my mission. When I find Rich finally, he’s downing the last of his Cosmo. He gives me a wide smile and hurries over, wearing a fabulous white tux. “Sami, how are you?” He hugs me and kisses both cheeks. “Good. I heard you wanna dance.” “Yes.” His eyes widen. He looks a lot like his brother, but better. His eyes are filled with animation and care. Not like William’s dead-fish eyes. “I do. Shall we?” He offers me his arm and leads the way to the side of the room with the dancing.

It’s a proper benefit with ballroom dancing and a plated meal. Not like the ones I’ve been forced to attend lately where the committee plans the event themselves. Like why even bother having it catered at that point? His hand slides around my waist, waltzing me in a half circle and then swinging me in a full circle and back into his arms. Rich is a fabulous dancer. A trait I assume all gay men have because I have yet to meet one who didn’t take to our lessons growing up. The same cannot be said for the straight men, not even a little. “I have something awful to tell you. And I should have said something sooner, but I didn’t. I’m ashamed.” He turns his face away, dancing us smoothly. “What?” My whole body is on pins and needles. Jesus. Did he sleep with Matt too? “William the Asshat has a habit. It’s blatantly obvious if one were to pay attention. Take this weekend for example. He’s not here. That’s because he’s in Dublin with a girl he met at school. He’s fucking her at her parents’ home and partying for the week there.” “What a fucker.” “It gets far worse, just wait.” He dances us to the side of the room and stops. “I can’t dance and tell you this. It’s bad.” He swallows like there’s a lump in his throat and nods. “William will come home and in a couple of weeks he will mend things with Natalie.” “Like he always does.” I scoff. “Right. Until the next girl he has to fuck comes along. Then he’ll cause drama and a fight and they’ll break up, and he’s single to bang that girl and whoever he wants for a month or two.” “Oh, he does it on purpose?” “It isn’t cheating if he’s single and he knows she won’t ever move on because her mother has already promised her. So he wants to sow his oats while he can, before they marry.” “Marrying her won’t stop him from cheating.” “No, it won’t. And because I find this so fascinating and disturbing, I have a list of the girls. Quite a few are here tonight.” “I don’t want to know. I’ll kill bitches for Nat. I don’t even know how to tell her this.” “Maybe you won’t have to. They’re broken up right now. We need to start sabotaging this from the inside. Nat’s looking for jobs. We should see if we can’t find her one away from the city. That way it’s harder for them to see each other. You work on her and I’ll throw temptation after temptation at him: parties on the yacht, bathing suits—you know, hetero shit.” “That’s a good plan.” I am sick, actively nauseated. “I know. I’ve been scheming it for a while. My brother is the shame of my family. I can’t believe how much like our father he is.” He sees someone across the room and waves. “Okay, now go. You’re killing my mojo.” Laughing, I glance behind me to see a guy giving him the googly eyes. “Okay. Have fun.” Leaving Rich, I don’t know what to do and I can’t go to Nat. I can’t face her. I want to kill people and rip things apart. So I head for the stairs to the terrace

to hide for a minute, the minute I need to sort this out. When I get to the second floor I’m out of breath. I’m the skinniest fat person I know. I keep on walking until I reach a quiet spot, and then I begin pacing and brainstorming. She needs a job away from the city. She needs to move away from home. I can’t believe what a dick he is. Actually, I can. Every bit of me wants to find him, pay someone to kill him, and then cover it all up nicely while introducing her to some better guys. Obviously, she’s so strung out on him she needs something else. She needs a slutty hot dirty guy. One who will ruin her for William. There’s no way anyone that selfish is good in bed. “Sami?” Matt’s voice startles me. “Oh my God.” I spin, trying to catch my breath. “You scared me.” “Are you okay?” He comes down the hall looking concerned. “Yeah. I just—” I pause. I can’t tell him what’s wrong. “Why are you up here?” He walks to me slowly. “I don't want to talk about it.” I don't even know how to explain it. “Is Rich okay?” “He’s fine.” I exhale, trying not to inhale the scent of his cologne as it gently wafts past my nose. “Did you want me to follow you?” He cocks an eyebrow. “No.” I laugh. “There she is.” He comes closer. He’s so close, too close. I can’t help myself. All my self-restraint and control goes out the window the moment he touches me. I wrap my arms around him, throwing myself into his embrace. The smell and feel of him against me is everything. I whisper, “I need a distraction.” “Tell me what Rich Fairfield said.” Sighing, I just say it, “He said William breaks up with Nat to bang chicks he wants to and then gets back together with her, stringing her along. The fights are fakes so he can be single for a bit.” “Yeah, I know.” He nods. “What?” I pull back. “Yeah. I noticed it years ago. That’s been his gig since they started dating. You honestly never caught onto that?” His gaze narrows. “I don’t know Natalie at all, but I’m sure she deserves better than Will.” “You noticed it?” “It’s really obvious, Sami. Like so obvious I have sat here stunned that he has gotten away with it. I wondered if you girls always knew and looked the other way because of the money.” “Whoa!” I step back farther. “I don’t give half a shit about his money. She likes him, she thinks she loves him. I let it ride for her. But he doesn’t get to treat my friend like this.”

“What are we going to do?” He says “we” and my heart melts. I’ve hardly spoken to him since the party, mostly because I don’t want to talk about Tandy, at all. I can’t let it slide that maybe he hooks up with PFs at parties and brings me to the wife parties. “I don't know. It has to be handled delicately so she doesn't let her mom convince her this is normal and that he’s done nothing wrong.” He smiles softly. “Is there a plan forming?” “No. I can’t think of vengeance right now. She’s kinda drunk and a little messy, and we need to distract me from not telling her. I’ll formally introduce you two and then I need you to get us drunk and entertain us all night so I don't do something that will badly damage my image or worse, my friendship.” “Easy.” He leans in like he might kiss me, making me smile too. But he only hovers, staring down me and my lips. “I miss you.” “Good.” It’s mean but if he knows me at all, he knows the translation to that is I miss you too. The grin on his face tells me he knows me well enough. “You’re going to cave when you’re drunk. Just so you know, I’ll be a gentleman through it all, even though it will be hard for me.” He laughs and offers me his arm instead of kissing me. When we enter the ballroom, eyes dart to us. People lean in, whispering and speculating. Matt ignores it all. He doesn’t care. I pretend I don't see it either.

CHAPTER 7

SOUL MATES

J anuary 3, 2016

Natalie Pacing the area rug in front of the fireplace, I tap my nails against my lips and contemplate where this is going and how it even got here. Sami is a real human being, with emotions and feelings and concerns. I don't even know what to do with this. She always acts so indifferent. I knew she was seeing Linda for years, but I assumed it was because her parents made her go to therapy. I had no idea it was self-driven and kept secret from her parents. Who even keeps a therapist on staff? “Serial killers,” I mutter. “What?” Brady glances up from his laptop. “What?” I offer a blank stare, confused. “You just said ‘serial killers’ and you've worn a path in the rug.” A smile starts across his lips. “I said that out loud?” “Yeah.” He finally laughs, shaking his head. “You’ve been weird since yesterday. I sort of thought Sami coming over would fix things, not make them worse.” “Oh, we’re fine. Better than fine. We just fight like sisters, no biggie.” I bite my lip, not sure I should tell him or not. He yawns, lifting his tee shirt to reveal the V and flexing his arms. A sigh slips from my lips, also out loud. He catches it, cocking an eyebrow as the humor in his eyes changes to something else. “You want some of this?” He nods at me. “No. I mean yes, of course, but that's not what I’m thinking about.” He pats the couch next to him. “Come here.” He puts the computer on the coffee table and sits in a more open position so when I sit next to him he can pull me into him. He wraps himself around me, scent and all. It’s like my own personal safe place. One that sucks away the stress of the decision Sami has asked me to make. He leans in, brushing his fuzzy cheek against mine. Shaving and hockey are apparently enemies. Getting him to shave to go to his mom’s for Christmas was a thing. He acted like I had asked for an organ. His lips and whiskers brush against

me lightly, starting warmth in me. I crane my neck to the side, giving him room to kiss everywhere. With my eyes closed and his warm breath painting me in kisses, I barely remember what was wrong in the first place. When he runs one of his warm hands up my side to trace the bump forming on my breast, I lose all the anxiousness completely. Still delicately thumbing my nipple, he gets up, kneeling in front of me. He doesn't kiss me. He lifts my shirt, exposing my breasts to the air. He kisses everywhere but where I want him to, teasing me. My nipples harden, waiting for the moment when his warm lips enclose around them, flooding me with bliss. But he doesn't. He kisses lower, missing the mark completely. His fingers dip into the joggers I’m wearing. He drags them down roughly, pulling them off one leg only. He leaves my underwear on but spreads my thighs wide. Running his hands up and down my exposed skin, he kisses everywhere: my knees, my stomach, my inner leg next to my underwear. But he never kisses where I want him to. Instead, he gently runs a thumb up and down my covered slit. I want him to drag the cotton to the side and devour me, but he won’t. I squirm, almost forcing his face near my pussy, but he moves with me. His other hand lifts, dragging my shirt back down so he can gently stroke my nipple. It’s too much, I need him. I need to orgasm. I’m done with the teasing. I push his hands away, dragging my own underwear off and then his shirt. The look in his eyes is the savage one, the one I love. It means I’m going to get fucked hard. I just want to be kissed and sucked and ravaged. So I do it to him, forcing him to do it back. He’s sitting back on his heels, which is better for me when I free his cock from his pants and lower myself. I have all the control. He parts his lips to protest but I press mine against his, shutting him up as I lower onto him, taking each inch until I have him all. His hands reach around, cupping my ass to control me, but I push them back to the floor, kissing him hard but not moving. “Let me fuck you.” He tries to move us both. “No.” I grab his hands and place them on my breasts, giving him permission there. He massages, rolling both nipples. I lower my face to his neck, gently kissing as I run my hand down my abdomen. I can’t look at him as I slip the finger into my lips and slowly start to rub circles around my swollen clit. It’s desperate for attention. His hips and thighs move, but I refuse to give him a single stroke and instead, finish what he started inside me. “Oh fuck, Nat. I need to fuck you. Come on, baby. Let me fuck you.” His subtle

movements only help stoke the fire burning inside me as my own rubbing becomes more aggressive. I’m moaning into his neck, unable to kiss him, when I start to climax. I lean back into it, closing my eyes, rubbing myself, and crying out. His hands reach back around, grabbing my hips and working me up and down his cock, bringing my already stellar orgasm to another level. He bucks, making me fuck him hard. My orgasm continues, forcing me to grip the couch. He lifts my hips up with my body lying back on the sofa again, places my feet on his shoulders, and cups my ass and hips, holding me up. He fucks hard and fast, coming with loud guttural groans. When he’s done, we’re both gasping our breaths and clinging to something. Me to the couch and him to me. My whole body exhales as he pulls out, bringing me back into his lap and holding me tight. “Sometimes you’re a very surprising girl,” he says breathily into my neck. “I need a shower.” I don't want to talk about surprising. He wraps me around him and stands, carrying me to the bathroom. The hot water soothes but the thoughts I was having before sex trickle back in with the water. “I thought I cured that look on your face.” He kisses me, sucking my bottom lip in. “Sami asked me to be her partner. She had a legit business proposal and a whole plan. I think she’s serious. She even switched her major before she graduated and took a bunch of extra classes. I didn't even know.” I feel like a bad friend. “Wow.” He raises his eyebrows but he doesn't appear shocked. “You knew?” I’m disappointed. “Matt might have mentioned it a couple of times that she was thinking about doing this. They’re both trying to be adults apparently. I didn't know she was going to ask you to do it with her.” His tone is flat, like it’s no big deal. “She kept it from me. She said she needed to figure out what it was before she could explain it.” He winces when he sees my expression. “Babe, just because she didn't tell you, doesn't mean anything. And she didn't tell Matt, he figured it out. He felt bad for thinking she was a dumb socialite bent on living life to the hardest and making a fool of her family. He didn't know she was smart and shit.” “But she didn't tell me!” “All that means is she needed to have a plan first, no biggie. I mean, think about it from her point of view. She’s Sami Ford, she can’t make mistakes. If she does she’s judged by the public. She needed to be sure. I think the caution and time put into it means she made a smart decision. Why is this such a huge leap for you if you believe she’s smart and it's a good idea?” His question stabs me in the stomach. “Clearly, you also doubt Sami.” He nods. “No!” I wash up fast so I can rinse and climb out. He obviously doesn't understand and talking to him about it is only going to annoy me.

He rinses and moves so I can get under the spray. “I think you need to realize the Sami you knew as a kid has grown up. She’s not the same dumb, drunk rich girl. Matt says she’s even thinking trying to learn to drive.” He natters on as I shampoo. “What!” I open my eyes, burning them with shampoo. “Ouch, shit!” I close them again, rinsing. “She’s getting her license? I can’t even with her lately. She’s being so weird. Why isn’t she telling me? Or even better, why is she telling Matt?” “She isn’t. She doesn’t tell him shit either. He figures it out.” When my hair is clean, I glare at him. “I don't get it.” “Has Sami ever been someone who lets other people in?” He raises his eyebrows. I open my mouth to say yes but I can’t. The truth of it is that she does in her way. His question brings tears to my eyes. “She’s just always been alone. Except for me.” I blink a tear. “And now she doesn't need me. She has Matt.” I spit his name, sending Brady into laughter. “Awww, babe. She loves you. Matt said she was a complete mess all through Christmas and New Year’s because she was terrified you might never forgive her. She stressed hard.” He laughs at me and hugs me at the same time. He and Matt have become a dynamic in our relationship that hasn't ever been there before. Even William was never more than Sami and now Brady sort of is. I have to assume she thinks the same about Matt, which means I’m second to her. It hurts, selfishly. “I think the fact she asked you to be her partner means she still needs you.” He kisses the top of my head. “It’s just different now.” “Because of me and Matt?” He pulls back, looking a little hurt. “Yeah. It was always me and her. We were the two musketeers. And now she doesn't need me and I don't need her. I don't want to grow apart.” “Dude, when I met Sami, I thought she was a flake. It lasted a while. But then I realized that was an act. She’s smarter than anyone gives her credit for. She’s kind but she hides it. And she’s brave. She walks with her head held high, even though the world has an opinion of her that isn’t true. And within seconds of meeting you, I knew where she got it from. You and your dad helped shape her into the person she is. And she’s the closest thing to a sister you’ll ever have. A couple of hockey players can’t come between decades of loyalty and love.” His words bring more tears, but for good reasons. “I love you.” I lay my head back on his chest. “I love you too.” He kisses me, holding me. “And no matter what happens, you and Sami are soul mates. She asked you to be her partner because she trusts you, more than anyone in the world.” I knew he was right, but the winter had brought so many changes, all at once. I didn't know if I could keep up.

CHAPTER 8

HICCUPPING

J uly 11, 2015

Sami The fireworks over the ocean are amazing. The way they burst and pop, bringing the night’s sky to life, distracts me from the fact Nat is back together with that turd and they’re currently snuggling on the beach two blankets over. I could vomit if not for the fireworks. The entire situation is disgusting. I know his dirty secret and yet I haven’t told her. I can’t. She’s so brainwashed by her mom she might not actually believe me. My only saving grace is the job I managed to get her right after Rich told me the horrible news. I’ve played it up like I have no involvement, protesting her leaving me and suggesting she live in the city. It was an easy card to play; her mother forbids anything to do with me, even though she’s almost twenty-three. I have to save her slowly, getting her this job was the first step. It’s in Hartford, hours from William the Douche and far enough away from her mother that she can’t control every step Nat makes. It’s honestly her only hope to escape this Fairfield cult. Glancing their way, I shudder from the want to stab him in the face but decide maybe a walk is a better idea. I get up, catching her attention. “Where ya going?” She smiles. “More booze,” I lie. Not only do I not get my own drinks, but I haven’t been drinking much. Finishing the last two classes of summer school has been kicking my ass. But I need to be a grown-up so they have to get done. The sand squishes beneath my toes as I hike up to the house. Paths cut through the bushes along the edge of the beach to the waterfront estates. Mine is wide and boardwalked, of course. Not that my mother has ever taken a stroll down here because she likes the beach. She likes the waterfront view from her patio. A dark figure slips from the shadows, making me shout and jump back until I see who it is. “Why are you lurking in the bushes?” I snap at Matt who’s laughing at me. “I was walking down when I saw you. I had to. It was too perfect.” He chuckles and comes closer, wrapping me in his strong arms. “I missed you.” He kisses my cheek. We’ve moved along in our “relationship” to heavy pawing without the

making out. There’s a lot of hugging and hand holding and back rubbing. It’s like being in the eighth grade all over again. “Why are you here?” I scowl. “What is this?” He pulls back, narrowing his gaze. “What’s happening here? Why are you being hateful instead of showing me some gratitude for coming all the way out here to see you?” He gives me his intense frown, glaring through the bangs hanging in his face. “Nat and dipshit.” I point a thumb over my shoulder, sighing a little. “I am glad you came but William-Douchebag-Fairfield is killing my joy.” “I have a plan for that.” He swings an arm around my shoulders and steers me back to the beach. He avoids the congested party and strolls to the right, away from the crowds. The fireworks light the path for us as he leads me to a quiet spot. The fading gasps and moans of the people watching from in front of my house become the soundtrack to the stroll. “Brady’s moving to Hartford.” “Random.” I don't know where he’s going with this. “We could try to hook them up.” He stops walking in front of my neighbors’ boardwalk, pulling me to him. “Brady would bang her, a lot. She’s his type.” “What girl isn’t his type?” I scoff. “Yeah, that’s true. But he secretly digs those geeky girls. He tries to fight it with PF’s, but he’s the ultimate sucker for a nice girl next door.” “Everyone is.” “Not me.” He toys with a grin. “I like my girls complex and kinda mean.” He laughs and pulls me into his embrace. “I’m not mean.” It’s a lie neither of us believes. “Yes, you are.” He lifts his hands, running his fingers down my cheeks. The fireworks explode in his eyes as he says, “You won’t let me kiss you.” “I don't know where those lips have been.” “Where do you want them to go?” He cups my face, tilting me up to meet him. His hair hangs down, hiding us from the world. I close my eyes, no longer able to hold off. Months of stolen kisses and dead-end embraces come to an end the moment his lips meet mine. It’s slow, taking all my life for him to press his lips on mine. We pause, both scared of where this is going. The fireworks explode behind my eyes when our kiss does too. The grip of our fingers on each other suggests the intensity our lips are capable of, but neither of us goes beyond the gentleness of a delicate kiss. The crowd behind us shouts, suggesting we missed an amazing burst, but I didn't need to see it. I have my own display. The noise stops him. He pulls back with a hungry look on his face. We both know where this is going so I step back. I have to be the one in control. “No.” He grabs me, dragging me back and spinning us so I’m the one leaning against the boardwalk railing. He pins me there, pressing himself against me. He traps me with his hands on either side of me, gripping the railing. “I need more.” He confesses breathily as he lowers again, kissing me faster. His tongue seeks out

mine, caressing and exploring my mouth. I feel like a teenager, making out on the beach while my family is steps away, except of course for the massive erection rubbing against my stomach. Other than that, he’s a perfect gentleman. His hands don't roam and his kisses stay on my lips. But I want them to. I’ve waited months for this to go further. I suspect he has too by the way he’s kissing me like I’m the first meal he’s had in a year. I pry my lips from his, kissing along his cheek and moving to his ear. I take a breath before whispering my one wish, “Fuck me.” Everything changes. A switch flicks inside him. The permission he’s been waiting for frees him, like a caged beast being let out. He’s too much too fast. He drops to his knees while reaching in my skirt and dragging my underwear off in a fluid motion, spreading and licking before I’ve even taken a breath to gasp the moan pouring from me. He isn’t there to make me come. He’s there to make sure I can handle him. I’m so turned on I don't even need the foreplay. He gets up, lifting me to the railing and standing between my legs. His eyes land on mine and something changes again. He takes a breath, stepping back. “No.” He doesn't mean it. He wants me. I don't understand. My stomach tenses. “What?” “No.” A sick grin crosses his lips. “This is the limo all over again. This is going to turn into you feeling disrespected and me being a pervert who can’t control himself. This is a test I’m going to fail if I fuck you against this railing like I desperately want to.” “You’re failing right now.” I spread my legs a bit wider, flashing everything. His gaze lowers to my inner thighs. He groans, involuntarily touching himself with his thumb over his shorts in a couple of small strokes. “I want you to fuck me,” I demand. “No. You want me to respect you and love you and cherish you. You want me to be with you romantically. You can’t have it both ways, Sami.” “I can have whatever I want.” I close my legs, burning with the fury of the disappointment. “No, you can’t.” He backs up more, leaning against the railing opposite me. “Fine.” I hop off the railing and saunter to him, grabbing his belt and undoing it. “What are you doing?” He grasps my hands, but I wriggle free and rip his shorts down like he did me, freeing his cock. I grab it with one hand and drop to my knees, taking as much of him in as I can, dragging the spit from my mouth down his shaft to jerk the rest of him. Then I lower my other hand to my pussy, fingering as I suck. He doesn't fight. His willpower is gone. His head falls back as his hands grip the railing, offering

small thrusts and grunts. I moan into his cock, rubbing my clit and savoring the buildup inside me. Gripping hard and sliding my hand up and down the shaft, I work a bit of precome from him, licking his head and closing my eyes. As my own orgasm rolls in, my moans grow louder. I don't even fight the noises coming from me. I hope it’s torturing him that he’s not the one making me sound this way. As the waves crash around us and inside me, I give him one more long suck until I’m done. Breathless and relieved, I stand back up, backing away the way he did. “What the fuck?” He looks like he might jump me. “You started it. Just remember that.” I turn to walk down the beach, but he grabs me, dragging me up the beach into my neighbors’ yard as he does his pants up one handed. “Matt!” I laugh and shout, trying to pull from his grip but he’s gone beast mode. Fortunately, my neighbors aren’t home, because he cuts straight across their lawn and through the beach grass to my house. He doesn't say a single word to me, but hauls me in the front door. Our butler jumps up from his seat, looking confused but Matt doesn't speak. He pulls me up the stairs, pausing and looking left and right at the wings on either side of the grand staircase. He goes right, the wrong way. “It’s this way.” I jerk hard, trying to bring him back to a rational place. He pauses, listening and turning, still dragging me down the hall. It’s like dealing with an animal. The staff is below giving me a worried look so I laugh, acting like drunk and crazy Sami. It’s my go to. When we get to my room he grabs the doors to slam them but I stop him, clutching his hand, trying to calm him down. He’s not angry, he’s determined. I pry his fingers from the wood doors and close them softly, locking them. Taking a breath, I stay there, holding the handles, not facing him or what’s about to happen. He attacks, lifting my skirt to grope my ass as his whiskers brush against my nape and shoulders. My shirt is dragged down, stretched the wrong way, but the feel of him against me takes away the care I might have had for it. He strips me bare, still pressing his clothed body against me, kissing and caressing. He reaches around, cupping my breasts, massaging and almost weighing them in his huge hands. I close my eyes and lean against the door, allowing for the inspection and worship of my flesh. “Say it again,” he whispers in my ear. “I want you to fuck me,” I mutter, breathlessly lost in the heat. He scoops me up, carrying me to the bed. He lays me down and rips his clothes off violently. He grabs my ankles and moves me to the edge of the bed, running his hands up and down my body, spreading me open wide for him. We both glance down as he runs the head of his cock in the moisture made by all this fucking around. He doesn't give me the usual slow entrance. He pushes in, forcing us both to grunt. He’s too big to do that so the first thrust makes my eyes widen in shock,

but he’s past the point of caring. He’s desperate. And once he’s inside he fucks me hard, dragging my ass back to him so he can get all of his cock in. He holds my legs hostage, lifting my ass off the bed ever so slightly to be able to hammer me. He doesn't care about pacing or how it feels for me, I can tell. He’s normally slower but he’s gone a bit crazy. He grunts, using me to work his cock, fucking me for his pleasure. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back, slamming into me a couple of last times before he floods me with his orgasm. He jerks and grimaces several times before stopping. His chest is beaded and rising and falling rapidly. When he lowers his head, his whiskers and hanging hair give his already intense eyes a dark look. It softens after a second, like a shark losing his frenzy. I pull him down to me, leading him onto the bed to cuddle me. He wraps around me, pulling me into his embrace. “That’s not really how I wanted that to happen,” he finally speaks. “Me either. But it was hot.” “I missed you.” He kisses my neck and shoulder. We’re a mess. Sweat, sand, semen, and everything else in between, coats us both. After briefly enduring the mess, I get up, dragging him by the hand to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and pull him inside. He holds me to him, stealing the hot water. “We could make them roommates,” I mutter after a moment. “What?” “Brady and Nat. We could recommend them to each other. Brady could be your cousin, a girl hockey player named BJ, and she could be my nerdy computer-geek friend, Nat. He always signs his name BJ or B. He never writes Brady. And she’s always Nat. They’d never know.” “Is that seriously what you’re thinking about right now?” He looks hurt. “Yeah.” “Sami, we just had sex for the first time in a very long time. We broke your rules. We need to discuss this.” He sounds pissed off. “No. I don't want to discuss this. I want to pretend this didn't happen. It was a hiccup.” “A hiccup?” He raises his eyebrow, brushing his thumb along my bottom lip. “I want to keep hiccupping then.” “We’ll see.” I grin. “Yes, we will.” He gets that cocky smirk, the one that tells me this isn’t over. I’m glad. I don't want it to be over. If this is the game, make each other desperate for the other person, then I’m all for it.

CHAPTER 9

THE PROPOSAL

F

ebruary 20, 2016 Natalie Jane, my boss, offers me a sly smile as I haul the box out of the office. “How’s Brady with this?” “Excited. He’s almost never home, so me working from home means I’ll be there when he is. All the hockey and trips home to see the new baby nephew are intense when you add in my work day too.” “Hockey schedules are rough. My nephew played for a long time and my poor sister was on the road constantly.” “Yeah, I don't do road trips. I watch from my living room.” I laugh. “With Sami screaming at the TV.” “She doesn't seem the type.” Jane laughs too. “She’s awful. In the rink, watching live, she’s right in there with all the other New Yorkers.” “Well, at least she has you to calm her down.” She sighs. “So we are all set up then, on the laptop?” “Yeah, I shouldn't have a single issue working from home. In fact, my computer is better than the one I work on here.” “I can’t believe you've been here months and you’re already leaving us.” She doesn't keep her disappointment contained very well. “It’s not like real leaving though. Being freelance will make it easier to work for Sami.” “With,” Jane corrects. “She asked you to be her partner. And I dare say, she’s a lucky girl to have you as a partner. You’re by far my favorite designer.” She lowers her voice, “But I never said that.” She offers an awkward hug, something pencilskirt wearing professionals don't really do. “Thanks, Jane. And thanks for understanding.” “Nothing to understand. You’re going to do the same job but from home. Simple.” She walks me to the elevator. “Just make sure we have the schedules updated constantly, in case you get behind initially with the new project.” “I won’t get behind.” I don't tell her that designing covers is simple for me and this is honestly the easiest job in the world.

“See you soon.” She waves as I step onto the elevator, nervous and excited for the changes coming down the line. Working for—with—Sami is going to be easy as well. With Brady’s schedule I can get my work done while he’s away. I might just have to cut back on the amount of games I watch. Vincenzo is waiting when I get downstairs. He grins wide as he gets the door for me and takes the box in my hands. “Miss Natalie.” “Thanks, Vincenzo.” Sami squeals when I climb in. “I’m so glad you said yes.” She’s beaming. “I’m scared of this meeting so I’m glad you’re with me.” She grips my cold fingers. Vincenzo drives us to Sami’s building but we don't go to the penthouse. Instead, we stop on the fifth floor where the Fords’ entire financial department is. Sami holds my hand until we enter the glass doors. She ignores the secretary, who I smile at, and clicks along the marble floor to the main boardroom. Her dad’s sitting and waiting for us. He looks confused, completely. The CFO is also here. He doesn't appear to be as lost. His grin suggests he might have an idea of what is going on. More than likely he has been the one helping Sami. Mr. Ford stands, giving us both a hug. “I have to say, I was surprised when I got the call about the meeting, girls.” “I know, Daddy, but I needed to make sure I had a sound plan before I approached you. I want you to take this very seriously.” Sami hugs Wellsman, the CFO, and sits across from her father. I sit next to her, a bit scared of being in the room at all. “Well, I am all ears. Is this for a charity or something?” “No.” She smiles wide and opens her portfolio, lifting out four copies of the business proposal she created, and slides each of us a copy. “Oh.” Her dad’s jaw drops. He glances at us both. He’s scared. “When you started the whole brand promotion thing, making money off my image, I thought it was lame. Like totally lame. And deceptive. I mean, I never even used those products. But I’ve had a slight change of heart. Not to continue the phony brand placement and promotion, but to be me.” She stands up, clicking a button on the remote in her hand to close the blinds around the entire room, sealing us off from the outside and the prying eyes of the office. She clicks another button and starts the Power Point, flashing images of Martha Stewart over the years. “I really had to ask myself lately, who is Sami Ford? What does she like? What does she hate? And how can she use her image and brand to create an honest income?” She glances at her dad. “No offence, but I don't want to be the trust fund girl who sponges off her parents, and I don't want to work here in some fake position you create to launder money to me at a discounted tax rate for yourself.” He chuckles. “Finding myself hasn't been easy, but there are things I love, brands I am crazy about. And I have seventy-four million followers on Instagram and that number could grow easily.” “I agree.” The scared look on his face is easing.

“So I did some market research on the most successful brandings for people of my age group, twenty-three to thirty-five. It’s all lifestyle. Beauty, home, travel, and entertaining. Oddly enough, Martha Stewart is still the most successful lifestyle brand. The majority of my peers are done college, setting up lives and traveling. They’re getting into relationships, starting careers, and making money for the first time. They’re looking for inspiration in those areas.” The pictures on the Power Point change to our friends’ Instagram accounts, showing their feeds. Her father succumbs to the idea, sitting back in his chair. “Who are you and what have you done with my child?” The pride in his eyes makes mine water. I don't think I have ever seen him look at her like that before. “Daddy, don’t. Sami Ford is a brand, already. She hasn’t got the best reputation. She’s known for the mistakes she made as a kid. But that’s not who I am anymore. And if I want to be different, I must show the world I am. Natalie and I have started seasonal photo shoots for the spring, creating the new image we’re going to launch.” The pictures change to Sami in all facets of life, proving her branding and the amount of exposure she has, but also showing him a possible layout for the different aspects of life and style. “I already have several weddings to go to this summer and have contacted the event planners to get inside scoops on what’s hot this bridal season. Obviously, they’re excited Sami Ford even gives half a shit about the wedding so they’re eating it up. Next we plan on purchasing several homes: a beach house, a winter chalet, and a city apartment. We’ll decorate them in my style, creating another tree branch for the lifestyle. Everything will be me and what are my choices, tastes, designs, and dreams. My peers are looking for their life, looking for inspiration, and I can be that.” “This is outstanding, Sami. And Nat. Outstanding.” Her father claps his hands. “I have chills imagining the empire you can build with this.” He narrows his amused gaze, not losing his humor. “Is this why the extra classes and switching your major?” “Yeah. I’ve wanted to do this for a while, but I didn't know how to apply it. Now I’m getting the hang of it. And I am seeing that the growing trend is not having kids early but having a life and building a career. They can’t afford kids yet. They’re barely making it in the world and some are even still living at home.” Sami grins. “Like I am.” Her dad laughs again. “So that has to end. I need to move out, show the world what it looks like when a Ford leaves home, give them something to dream about. Inspire them.” “Natalie, what’s your thoughts on all this?” Her dad gives me a skeptical stare. “I think it’s genius. Sami has always been known for being that bad girl of New York’s rich and famous, and now she can turn that into grown-up Sami. Her doing everything in her glitz and glam sort of way. And I can be the graphics, Internet, and planning.” “What if you offered a secondary branding, with Natalie as the option for the poor? We made this an absolute partnership where Natalie gives the discount version and Sami offers the luxury?” Her dad is getting into this, but his idea hits me in the stomach.

“As in I would be in the public eye as well?” I gulp. “Exactly.” “That's genius, Dad.” Sami grips my shoulder from where she’s standing above me. “Sort of the princess and the pauper.” “That’s exactly what’ll we’ll call it.” He laughs and claps again. “This is mindblowing. I will get design on this. Natalie, you will head the team. Sami, we need to have a magazine, it’s just common sense. It delivers so much more than Instagram. I’ll get one on board, a lifestyle one that’s classy. And I think we’ll have to look into networks. This will need to hit TV. It’s tacky but it’s the way of the world. People are lazy. They’re getting lazier. Watching everything on Netflix is how they live. We need to consider maybe being a Netflix original. It’s how the market is changing. No one watches cable anymore.” Her dad stands up, reaching across the table. “Welcome to the company.” He clasps her hand. His eyes are shining with pride and respect. “Wellsman here will give you whatever you need to get this off the ground.” His hand trembles when I shake it. He’s gushing and bursting with emotions and ends up coming around the table to hug us both, lingering on Sami and whispering something to her. Wellsman stays seated, looking smug as hell. “Well done, all of you.” Her dad’s voice cracks as he leaves the office, I think to cry alone in Ford style. Sami turns to me, shocked and maybe scared. I know I’m terrified. I don't want to go on TV. I don't want to be the pauper. But her dad is the master of marketing. He knows what he’s talking about. “We did it,” I say, hoping she isn’t disappointed that he sort of railroaded our idea. “We did it,” she repeats what I’ve said. “I feel light-headed but it worked.” She’s beaming again. A little pale but beaming nonetheless. “I told you this was a brilliant plan. And he even made it better, which I didn't think was possible. You’re going to make billions with this.” Wellsman stands and chuckles. “Go find your properties, girls. Congratulations.” Wellsman chuckles and offers us his hand. We both shake it. When he leaves the room, Sami slumps into a seat. “Oh my God. Did you see the way he looked at me?” she asks the room, staring at the blinds. “Yeah.” “I’ve waited my whole life to get that exact look from him.” She swallows, fingering the giant diamond on her right hand. “We need to celebrate.” “Well, lucky the guys are home,” I add and sit next to her. “The Princess and the Pauper.” I say it out loud, unable to deny the genius of it. “It’s brilliant.” “It’s brilliant.” Although I don't know how to break it to my mom I will be the world’s most famous pauper.

CHAPTER 10

JERK THIS

A ugust 29, 2015

Sami I’m midway on my last economics paper and a giant helping of Cecelia’s nachos when the phone rings. It’s Nat. Shit! After avoiding her during the first days with Brady as her roommate, I should have called and asked her how her first day of work was. Her desperate and violent attacks have chilled which can only mean she and Brady are settled, have already fucked, or she has moved out and hates me. Taking a breath and hoping for the first two options, I answer, “Hey, girlie. How was the first day?” What I really want to know is what is going on with her and Brady. The guy is a stallion and there’s no way he won’t try to fuck her. She’ll be so wracked with guilt she’ll break up with dipshit, and I won’t have to tell her about William’s vile ways. Seeing his brother last month and finding out what William does, has bugged me ever since. I should have seen it before. I should have been a better friend. Matt saw it. God, he’s annoying with his ability to notice shit. “Good.” She sounds weird. “So did everyone seem cool? Were they secret nerds like you?” I laugh and get up, pacing around the room so I don't sound as if I’m doing homework. Technically, I should be drunk or doing something fun since it’s summer and I’m not supposed to be taking summer courses. “No. Just regular nerds. Except one girl, Liz. She seems like a secret nerd. Super pretty and funny.” “Oh, so you found your Hartford Sami. How fun.” I laugh, mocking her. I hate the fact she’s working there and making new friends, even though this is what she needs. “I did. She’s not quite as pretty as you but way more down-to-earth.” She’s smiling when she speaks, mocking me. “You bitch.” I laugh harder. “You commoners say ‘down-to-earth’ as though it's a good thing to be boring—well, it’s not. It’s better to be spicy and zesty and want some flavor in your life,” I feign offense and take a bite of the nachos on my bed, chewing quietly so she won’t know I’m eating her favorite food.

“Are you eating? ‘Cause that was a lot of food referencing there.” “You know what I mean, dick.” I laugh and crunch, simply letting it happen. She knows me too well to hide it. “I’m eating nachos.” I wince as I say it. “I had Cecilia make me jerk chicken nachos.” “My favorite?” She gasps. “You’re eating my favorite nachos and calling me the bitch?” “Come and have some. I’ll send a helicopter.” “I would love to,” she moans. “But I have to work in the morning. This is one of those nine-to-five gigs where you have to show up five days a week.” “Oh shut up, I know what a job is.” Her rich-people hate is still strong. “Now let’s get to the meat and potatoes of this meal. What’s up with William?” Her texts about his dad’s birthday party are the start I need to create a wedge. Surely she has seen through whatever lies he’s told her. “He said he sent me a voice text invite but it didn't show up.” She seems to be accepting that explanation. “If you believe that moron I will kick you in the vag.” I fucking hate this. She clearly is eating another spoonful of his bullshit. “He doesn't deserve you. He never has.” I accidentally let it slip out, a little bubble of the rage and hate I’ve felt for so long. “Okay.” She sounds gutted. I hold my breath for half a second and come up with a plan. “I’m a little bit drunk again, so don't hate me if this comes out wrong.” I try to slur and be how I would if I were actually drunk, saying what I think should follow the last statement. “He’s a douche. A D-bag. A wanker. A fuckwit. He’s not worth the paper you wipe your ass with nor the shit stain you leave behind. I hate him, more than I hate anyone. Oh my God, that feels so good. It’s been years of me bottling that up, but I’ve finally said it.” Surely that explains my feelings, and if not, I can claim the drunkenness got to me. She doesn't say a thing. I can’t even hear her breathing. “Say something,” I snap, panicking. “I-I don't know what to s-say. I thought you liked him. In high school I assumed there was something between you.” She’s crushed. It’s exactly as I feared. I wish I were drunk. I need to smooth this over. I try to say it differently, losing the drunk act and just being truthful. My stomach is killing me but I need her to see the truth. “In high school he was older and cool, and I was dumb and didn't know better. He’s the gold standard for guys in our circle, Nat. But I’ve been outside our circle for a while and there are some really nice guys out here. And they love and care in a whole different way. I love you—like more than anything. You’re the kindest, funniest, stupidest, smartest, bestest girl in the whole world. I used to beg God to make us gay so we could just be together. You deserve someone who makes it all about you. I hate the way you chase him up and down the coastline, doing all the things he wants to do. Nat, you’re your dad. You always say you’re so much like your mom but you’re not. You’re your dad, to a T.” I pause for a breath. “And—” “You don't have to explain, Sami.” She sounds like shit.

“I do. I have to. I know this hurts. We love each other and depend on each other, and I’ve been lying about this for a while, thinking you’re going to see what a knob he is. But you aren’t. You’re letting things slide and taking the path of least resistance. You’re being down-to-earth, and I think it’s high time you pull your head out of his ass and start seeing him with your eyes and not your mom’s.” This was a mistake, a huge mistake. I have to fix it. “I’ll be there tomorrow. I shouldn't have done this over the phone. I love you. I’ll see you then.” “Okay.” I hang up and almost gag a little. How could I do this to her? How could I tell her the William truth over the phone? She’s alone with Brady and has to work. Shit! I don't sleep all night, desperate to get to Hartford but also needing to finish my paper. When it’s done I take the most pathetic nap in the history of naps. Nadia wakes me when it’s time to go. I throw on clothes and makeup but I don't look better. I look how I feel. The drive to Hartford is agony. I text Matt a few times, but he’s got a game and can’t chat. Finally, I call Carson. “Why are you calling?” He doesn’t ever just say hello. “I fucked up. I sort of started the whole William is a dick conversation last night, over the phone. I told her he’s a piece of shit, but not why I think it. And now I’m driving to Hartford to see her and smooth things over.” “While that sucks, this is it. You have to do it now. You and Rich have been holding on to this too long. She needs to know. Have some drinks and let it all flow, tell her the whole truth. And if she doesn't listen, tell her dad. He’ll never allow her to date Will again.” “You’re right. I should have gone straight to her dad in the first place. Why didn't I think of that?” “Stop being a pussy, Sami. Jesus. Just be you, say it boldly, and then get her drunk.” He hangs up and I sigh. I get to the restaurant before her, nervous and sweaty. When she arrives, I leap at her, hugging her too hard. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She looks exhausted and stressed. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have told you like that.” “It's fine. I don't understand why you didn't tell me before.” “I didn't want you to hate me.” “I never hate anyone,” she snaps. “I’m really sorry, Nat.” I don't want to argue with her about her epic grudge holding. It’s scary. Or her mother’s frightening brainwashing so I just keep apologizing. It’s easier than telling her why. “Like honestly, so sorry.” “Hello, ladies.” The server comes to the table and I try to hide the fact this is going to be a rough night with my winning smile. “She’s going to have the blackened chicken Caesar salad and a side of the homebaked mac and cheese. And I’m going to have the crispy chicken Thai salad. And I will have another dirty martini, and she wants gin and tonic with extra lime.” She

doesn't look like she wants to eat, but if I order food it might distract us for a moment, the time I need to gain some bravery. Knowing I’m going to break her heart is killing me. “Okay. Sounds amazing, ladies.” He smiles back at me. “Thanks.” He gives me the look, the one that suggests he knows exactly who I am and is a little star struck. He does a weird bowing motion and leaves the table. I swallow hard and glance back at Nat. “I’m so sorry.” “You’ve said it like a hundred times. Stop. It’s getting annoying.” She reaches across the table, holding my hands. “I get it.” I feel worse. “No, I was a coward. I kept hoping you’d see how lame he is but somehow he keeps roping you back in.” I’m trying so hard not to cry that this is coming out kind of mean again. “Seriously, stop. I just want to know what makes you hate him. The things you haven’t told me.” She knows me too well. She pulls back as the drinks arrive. “Hit me with it.” She lifts her glass and downs the entire thing in one sitting as the server walks away. “Do it.” I try to open my mouth but it’s sealed shut. It refuses. “You have to. You owe me.” Her words cut me. I take a cue from her and down my drink too, the entire martini. It’s aggressive but this is about to be the worst day of my life. Worse than Tandy by a thousand. “Okay, so last summer when you were broken up, he slept with Karen on his dad’s yacht.” I try to start where Rich did when I called him and got the complete details on the story. “Hartmann?” Her cheeks flush. “Yeah.” I lift the onion from my drink and chew it, wanting to spread them out a bit. “Then you guys broke up in November, and he slept with Annalisa when he was home for Thanksgiving.” “Are you fucking kidding me? She slept at my house in November. We had that huge Twilight movie night. What a bitch.” Nat’s face is bright red and her eyes are shiny, like she might cry. I panic and wave at the server, pointing at our drinks. I don't know why we even bothered to order food. This is going to be a liquid night. The liquid courage hits and I blurt the rest really fast. “Then you guys got back together, and when you broke up in April he slept with like five girls from Princeton. He was bragging about it when Rich was with them and he told me. Rich said he hated the way Will always broke up with you so he could bang chicks and not actually cheat on you. Then he would get it out of his system and get back together with you. Rich said William’s been doing this from the time you first started dating. He said he knows he will marry you because you’re the right kind of girl. But he isn’t ready to get married, and he doesn't want you to meet someone else so he strings you along until he’s ready and has sown all his wild oats. These little breakups keep him sane.” I almost throw up from breaking her heart this way. She looks sick. Her eyes are wide and confused. The information is an overload, but I think she’s heard me. The server delivers the next drinks and she downs hers

and motions for another as she growls, “He purposely causes fights and makes me think it’s my fault so he can fuck someone else? He’s stringing me along so I won’t meet someone else and be happy?” “I’m so sorry.” I go back to old faithful. “How long have you known?” Her eyes narrow. “Since last month. I was about to tell you, but you guys were broken up, and then you got a job and you were doing so well so I didn't want to say anything. Then you got back together with dipshit, and I knew I would have to tell you.” I try to lie and tell the truth. “Two days before you got the job was when Rich told me everything. He said you deserved so much better and neither of us knew how to tell you.” The truth is this is the reason I helped her get the job. “Oh my God. I am such an idiot. He’s been playing me all this time, and I’ve been acting like it’s cool because my mom wants me to marry him.” “You’re perfect. He’s an asshole. An entitled dick. Screw him.” I plead with her to see reason. “You’re right. He’s an entitled dick. But I’m an idiot.” She chugs back her drink the moment it touches the tablecloth. I decide to spin this around, go for the kill, and deflect from William. “You have an awesome job. A super-cute roommate who is the perfect guy to get under for some rebound. You have your own things going on. You don't need William Fairfield. Screw him!” She looks as though she might throw up but still reaches across me for my drink to down. When she’s done it she shudders. “I need some air.” She jumps up abruptly. I toss some cash on the table and follow her outside. I don't know what she’s thinking or feeling, beyond shocked. She’s trashed and looking crazy as she heads for the park, nattering, “I almost told him I loved him, like five times.” “I know.” I don't know what to say to make this better. I’m the wrong person to do this. She pauses, giving me the worst look ever. “Did you hook me up with Brady as my roommate and hope I would screw him and realize what a knob William is so you wouldn't have to tell me?” Busted. The lump in my throat springs up, filling my eyes with tears. I refuse to blink them out. “Does Brady know this?” She sounds as if she’s completely betrayed and destroyed. “No. He’d be pissed if he did. He’s not like that. He’s just slutty and we thought that maybe—” “Oh God, you and Matt thought. You and him talked about this. You talked about me being a loser.” “Never! Nat. Never!” She pushes away from me, staggering a bit. “Go back to Manhattan, Sami. I don't even—I can’t even right now.” “Nat!” “GO AWAY!” She runs away, leaving me standing on the road with tears flooding

my vision. I slump, devastated I totally blew it. She’s going home and her mom and William will convince her that he’s not the devil and in fact I am. And she’ll lose her only ally in this and I’ll lose my only real friend.

CHAPTER 11

THE PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER

M arch 30, 2016

Natalie “This isn’t a house a pauper would buy.” I cock an eyebrow and shoot death stares at Sami, hoping I’m really throwing an unimpressed vibe. “This is a hovel. There’s no way this is a whole house for this price.” She searches the place like she’s chasing after a white rabbit. “There must be more, maybe another floor?” She isn’t hearing me. “It’s the neighborhood,” I repeat myself for the tenth time since we started looking for my version of a great place to buy after moving out of one’s parents’ basement because the economy is in the toilet. “If I got something more like an apartment, which would suit our age and finances”—I brace myself for the onslaught of judgment as I say the last part—“somewhere up-and-coming like Bushwick.” “Oh my God, you can’t buy in Brooklyn,” she groans. “How is that inspiring to anyone?” “Says the diva buying on the Upper East Side with an unlimited budget. The whole point of this is to find something for me and my budget. I can’t even buy with my wages unless I go to Queens. And even then, it’s a condo.” “Queens?” Her cheeks redden and she says it like it sours her mouth. “Yeah, Queens. Or maybe Washington Heights.” “There was a shooting there yesterday.” “There’s shootings in New York every day. You have to understand, my budget and yours are not the same, but we have to make people still want the dream.” I laugh a little. “Imagine you were a little poor girl and your only dream in this world was to go to New York and become a Broadway star. You get a regular job and start going to auditions or classes. It could be years before you make it. But the point of this show is that while you’re schlepping food to rude assholes who grab your butt and leave lousy tips, you can live in style.” “That sounds like a nightmare.” She snaps her eyes and glances at the hovel. “Let’s go see what they have in Harlem first, at least that’s in Upper Manhattan. It’s better than Queens. I need a shower, that house was disgusting.” She clicks out in her boots, headed for the limo and ignoring the film crew and photographers

following us. When we get in the car she gives me a worried sigh. “How was that?” “A little too snobby. You’re trying too hard. Were you acting though?” “No. I was just saying everything I thought, no filter.” “I see.” I wrinkle my nose. “Maybe filter the tiniest bit.” “Okay. And you were great. Loved the whole realism you had going there. I think people will connect with that.” She’s completely serious. I don’t bother telling her I was being real. At the next stop we actually make it all the way through the apartment with her not saying much. There isn’t much to say, it’s fairly bland. Personally, it’s even a bit bland for me. When we are about to leave, she pauses in the kitchen, staring at the wall. “You okay?” I don’t know what she’s doing. “I can’t figure out what that appliance is.” She points at the washing machine. “It’s a washing machine.” I don’t mock her; she’s being serious. “In the kitchen?” “Yes.” I smile. “When there’s no room, and no other plumbing, they put it in the kitchen.” “Where’s the dryer?” She glances around, still visibly struck by this. “They hang dry and iron.” “Everything?” Her jaw might as well hit the floor. “Yeah.” I can’t even with her sometimes. “I would just dry clean everything.” She links her arm in mine and shakes her head. “No.” We see three more apartments, and I am so bored I could cry, when finally, we strike gold. It’s a prewar building on Fifth Ave, about seventeen blocks from Central Park. It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an actual kitchen and in suite laundry that isn’t in the kitchen. “This is the first reasonable place we’ve seen,” she mutters, turning in a circle before giving me an inquiring smile. “What do you think?” “We could easily make this into a mid-twenties, early thirties haven.” I have to agree. The cameramen and team look pleased too. They all tour around, setting up lighting for some intense before photos. Sami links her arm into mine. “Now, we get a drink. One house down, five to go.” We both sigh. It’s been two days of house hunting with her father’s realtor. “A drink sounds delightful,” the realtor, Maxine Su, a New Yorker who knows it all, mutters from her phone. She texts faster than anyone I have ever seen. “We can sit and go over the itinerary for tomorrow. I have us looking at a Fifth Avenue three-bedroom in a prewar building and another prewar three-bedroom on East Seventy-second street. And we will finish up with a townhouse on East Seventyeighth.” “Only three?” Sami asks. “I have three more lined up for the next day. We can’t possibly see more than

three, between traffic and the size of those homes, compared to the ones we’ve seen these last couple of days.” She texts and talks over her phone. “Will that be enough, six houses?” Sami asks the cameraman next to us. “Should be great, Ms. Ford. The houses are so large, when we feature them they’ll take up a ton of time, really driving home the fantasy of owning one of these lush places.” He laughs. “I know I’m fantasizing.” We all laugh with him, except Maxine. She continues texting. When we finally get home from the long night of drinks and real estate prospects, I’m done. I crawl into the bed, wrapping myself in blankets, and close my eyes. My phone rings and I cringe until I see Liz’s name. I answer, smiling and trying not to sound completely dead. “Hey!” “Hey, how’s it going?” She sounds funny. “Good. Just chilling. What’s new with you?” “Not much. Bored.” “Yeah, Brady said they’re still in Carolina, waiting for flights home. I didn't watch the game but saw they lost when Sami was watching the highlights. Brady’s going to be grumpy. He always is when they lose.” “Oh my God, Mike too. But he loves playing with the team. I can’t actually wait for the season to end. I don't tell him that, but the constant travel and working out and practice keeps him away ninety percent of the time. I almost never see him now. It’s been hard having a relationship that's so distant, but I knew what I was signing up for.” “I know what you mean.” I nod. “For me it’s been kinda good. It’s made the irrational decision of moving in together so early easier to adjust to. We don't spend too much time together. When he’s home, I’m excited. And when he’s gone, I miss him, I think about him nonstop, but I still have my own space.” “I’m ready for summer and free time and us being alone together in the same town. Did Brady tell you one of the Florida teams is looking at Mike?” “No, oh my God, that’s what he wants. Some hot spot.” “Yeah, he’s pumped. And the guys here said I can work from home starting this summer. So it looks like I’ll be going with him.” She still sounds down. “How’s things with the Princess and the Pauper?” “Good. Busy. Sami and I need to wrap up the shoots for the houses and start the design teams on redoing everything in the places we buy, and then we’ll finally have free time too. I’ve completed all our designs and website launches. All social media is tied to her already existing fan base. We have more photo shoots in a week for the clothes, her wearing designer and me wearing a cheap knockoff.” “Clothing and houses too?” “Lifestyle. Everything from houses to clothes to relationships and where we like to get our favorite lattes. I can’t have a bowl of pasta in a café without it being Instagramed with location and cost.” “Oh yikes. That sounds awful.” “It has its moments. This next bit will be horrid, doing all four seasons in one week.”

“They shoot all the seasons at once?” “Yeah. They have sets and I can Photoshop us anywhere we need to be. And it makes sure we don't have any issues. Like a car accident or getting fat or anything like that. It keeps consistency. Sami is getting the designers she loves to fly in clothes from around the world. All the new trends they’re planning for the up-andcoming seasons. And I’m going to Nordstrom.” I laugh. “You don't mind being the poster girl for mediocrity?” She laughs with me. “No, that’s literally my life. Who else could have the glimpse into the rich and famous that I have had? I know how to mimic their lives better than they do. The only thing I think will take some getting used to is the photographers up our butts during our free time. Sami has always had that, but I’ve had escapes, like my house.” “That sounds awful, no offense.” “None taken. It will be. But the success of the company is based on us, our lives. Small sacrifice to make something cool of myself.” The sentence reminds me of something. “Speaking of which, Sami and I were discussing you and the whole work thing. We were wondering if you’d be available for contract design work and maintenance. We started the plan with me being the design and maintenance person, me in the background. But her dad’s genius has me too busy now, with also doing my old job until I fulfill my commitment to Jane. I can help but I can’t do it all. I’ll go nuts. And I trust you.” “That would be amazing. I’d be all over that.” She sounds happier, perkier. “The idea of the Princess and the Pauper is genius. Her dad is an incredible businessman. I’d actually be honored. Shoot me a contract and the general proposal so I know the list of demands.” She chuckles, sounding lighter. “Thanks, Nat.” “No, thank you. We won’t be able to do this without a good team. And you’re the best.” “That just made my night, honestly. I was kinda bummed with the whole not seeing Mike for a full week with the three away games in a row. His job has sort of claimed my life. It’ll be nice to have something for me besides the easy shit here.” “I’m glad you called then.” “Me too! I miss you being so close. And Mike being gone sucks.” “Come visit me.” I fight a yawn. “Okay, let me look at the schedule and see when they’ll be gone a couple of days and I’ll come work there. We can go over all the work stuff then.” “Sounds good.” The yawn steals my words. “I’ll text tomorrow.” “Perfect.” “Night!” She sounds much better. “Night.” I hang up and flop the phone onto the bed next to me, losing the battle to stay awake.

CHAPTER 12

LIQUID LUNCH

S eptember 12, 2015

Sami My stomach aches as I pace the bedroom, ignoring the fact the sun set ages ago and the city is now alive with the lights and colors that make it so famous. I bite a chapped lip, wondering what she’s doing right now. Matt enters, holding takeout and a bottle of red. He smiles cautiously. “Hi.” “I’m not hungry.” The food smells divine but I can’t eat. I might be sick. “And yet you’re going to eat for me, like a big girl.” He mocks me. He’s been doing it for days. “We’ve never fought before, not like this. It’s been two weeks and she hasn't called me. And Rich texted and said she wanted a list of the girls. She wants to know who they are.” I gulp. “What if she thinks I’m lying?” “Why would you lie? And if she wants proof, I think I might have some on my old phone from the cabin fever party at my place. I had a bunch of photos on there and dipshit was in them.” “Do you think Brady listened when you told him not to bang her? I can’t believe we set them up to screw like that. What was I thinking?” I cover my eyes. “I just hope she hasn't told him about the setup. God!” “You were hoping your tight-as-a-drum friend loosened up a bit. And yes, Brady is behaving. He still says she’s being weird. She works and games and drinks.” “See!” I point. “She doesn't usually drink a lot. She’s gonna ruin her job. I can’t even.” “You need to calm down. She’s depressed. The news was bad, she’s been made a fool, and she needs to digest that. I don't blame her. I’d need to play some video games and be alone too.” He offers a smug look. “When you accused me of things I never did, I was depressed. I ate a lot and stayed home alone. Carbs and Benson got me through.” “Oh my God!” I roll my eyes. “She’s never going to forgive me. My best friend hates me. I don't care that you were depressed when you let some ho play with your dick. Maybe you shouldn't have been so drunk at your slut party.” His eyes widen, losing the humor. “That’s enough!” He puts the food down and

crosses the room angrily. “I’ve had it with this shit. She’s irrational, she’s upset. She’s not going to hate you. She loves you. She’ll see reason when she recovers. Just because you aren’t part of her processing this doesn't mean you aren’t important.” “Yes, that's exactly what that means! She doesn't need me!” “Sami, your whole goal was to get her to the point that she doesn't need you. That she grows up and becomes an adult who isn’t reliant on her parents and makes her own decisions. You can’t have it both ways. She either grows up or she stays an immature moron—” “Don't call her a moron—” “And this is me calling it a day.” He turns, grabbing the bags of food and wine. “Call me when you and Nat make up or when you’re feeling less crazy. If that happens.” He storms out, taking the delicious smell of him and the food. I slump onto the bed and text Nadia to head him off at the door and steal the food, but even she doesn't answer. I’ve pissed everyone off. Eventually I fall asleep. When I wake, my phone is going nuts. I have a horrid feeling it’s Matt telling me off. But the first one is my mom blowing it up about dinner with the Palfreys, God help me, followed by a picture of a conversation. I twinge with anxiety when I realize it’s from Nat and sit up. My stomach hits the floor. The message she’s sent is to all of Will’s known whores. “Oh shit.” I laugh and call her, letting the relief flood me. “Hey.” She sounds like she might still be crying. “OH MY FUCKING GOD, I LOVE YOU!” I lose it. “This is amazing. I am dying! Has he called you yet?” “No,” she whispers. Jesus, is someone with her? Is she shagging someone else for revenge? If she is, YOLO. She deserves it. “Stop being so damned dramatic. You caught him being a dickwad, that's all. I miss you. I hate that I have to force Brady to take photos of you randomly so he can send them to me so I see you.” I laugh at myself for even admitting that ridiculousness. “Dude. Creepy.” “You’re forcing me to do it. I miss you. I’m sorry.” My heart aches with need to hug her and make this all better. “Please don't say sorry anymore. I don't care. What you did was never intended to be mean to me. You’ve never been mean to me, since we were five. Never. I believe you and I’m sorry I got so pissed and acted crazy. I’m ashamed of being so easy to trick and being so gullible and that I blamed you and Matt for something William did.” The reason she’s whispering isn’t someone else being there. It’s shame. “How’s it going?” I change the subject, hating that she’s alone with this. “I mean, other than sending a random slut-shaming letter to most of our friends.” “Oh, I don't even know what I was thinking. Everything else is fine. Work is great. Apparently, I might have a bit of a drinking problem—blackout drunk twice

in two weeks.” “I’ll show you drinking problems. I’ve been drunk before three every day this week.” I try to joke but the whole two weeks of us fighting has been misery. Then I ask the question I want to, “How’s Brady?” “Weird. Distant. I roped him into being my cover model and since that day he’s been weird. Spending a lot of time away from home. I’m assuming you guys told him what you told me, and he’s freaking out thinking I believe we should just move in and start—anyway, he’s been super distant and not home much. It’s sort of strange. We were hitting it off awesome and then not. We’re still doing fine, but it’s awkward now. Which it shouldn't be. It should be easier; we’ve lived together for like three weeks. I wish you guys hadn’t told him.” “I never told him. Matt might have.” I will kill Matt if he did. “Maybe. But maybe I was too forward when I did the photo shoot. I was joking around a lot. Maybe I scared him. I was pretty hungover and gross.” “I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably busy with hockey. They eat, sleep, and dream about it. What did you do for the last two weeks?” I know what she’s been doing. Brady has been keeping tabs. “Nothing. I played video games, went for runs, worked, and played more video games. It’s been good and bad. I need to break things off with William. I’ve been avoiding him since you were here. Sending crappy one-word texts so he doesn't think I’m dead and get my mom worked up.” “Can I come for a visit?” I can’t stand this. “Please come,” her voice cracks. “I’ll meet you at the apartment when you get off. What time is that at, like four?” “Five. I’ll be there by five fifteen.” “Okay, me too.” I hang up and look at the dinner demands from my parents. I am expected to show up for dinner Friday night at home in Greenwich. “Shit.” “You okay?” Nadia asks as she puts away some clothes. “No. The Palfreys will be at my parents’ house for dinner next Friday and I’m expected to be there. Zach Palfrey isn’t my kind of fun. He’s nice but he’s a ladder climber who does everything his parents tell him to. I heard he asked his dad’s permission to play on a farm team and his dad won’t let him play pro. So when he’s sowed his hockey oats he’s going into the family business of finance.” She wrinkles her nose. “He sounds weak.” “Right.” I point and remember the guy who isn’t weak but I was shitty to last night. “I need to make a quick call and then can you have Vincenzo bring the car around? Maybe fifteen minutes?” “So twenty-five?” she asks as she leaves the room. “Yeah.” I don’t even bother with a text. I’ve been neurotic for two weeks and we’ve been doing so well, even with my mental instability. “Hello?” he answers coldly. “Hi.” “I have practice, I can’t talk.” “I’m sorry. I have been crazy for two weeks and I am admitting it like an adult.”

The entire sentence tastes like death. “You and Natalie made up?” He still sounds cold. “Yeah.” “Okay. I accept your apology. Thanks for calling.” “Matt.” Does he want me to beg? I’m not fucking begging. “Sami.” He isn’t warming at all. There’s no smile in his tone. “Fine, whatever. Have a good practice.” I end the call and stare at my phone. He’s the most complicated guy I’ve ever met. Deciding not to participate in the guilt he’s obviously trying to make me feel, even though I apologized, I pack for the night in Hartford. When I get there, we make up and then go to party with her coworkers where I meet Hartford Sami: Liz. She’s nice. Way nicer than I am. She actually suits Nat. The whole table of mouth-breathing dorks suit her. I play the part of fun Sami, pushing my wandering mind away. But it doesn’t stop me from checking my phone to see if Matt’s messaged. He doesn’t. Not even when I get home to New York and I know he’s back in the city. I waste time pouring over my business proposal, getting all the ideas Wellsman and I have been brainstorming. As the chief financial officer of our companies, I trust his advice. He’s the only person I’ve told about my business plan. I didn’t tell him I came up with it because I was feeling self-conscious in public about the image I’m slapped with. The proposal hasn’t been difficult to draw up, but the financial aspects were, so he helped. It’s all hard to focus on with Matt not talking to me. He’s not doing his usual antics, trying to win me over or make me want him. He’s ignoring me completely. It’s starting to feel like he’s calling my bluff. He’s had enough of the game. And the sex that one night isn’t enough to make him stay with me through this deal I’ve forced on us both. At the time I made it, I never imagined we’d be in September, stuck and feeling silly. It’s redundant now. We’ve fucked. We’ve kissed so passionately that if I think about it now, I blush. He’s the only person in the world who makes my stomach ache simply by being near me. I have never understood the word “longing” the way I do now. But if I call and put that out there and he shoots me down, tells me he’s just done, or he’s lost that feeling for me, I will die. My mosaic heart will crumble and I’ll marry Zach Palfrey and sleep with the young bartenders at the country club. I’ll take Ativan and cry in the shower when I need to. I’ll become my mom. And that’s just not an option. My entire week coasts this way. Barely eating. Hardly sleeping. Constantly worrying.

When Friday rolls around I actually contemplate faking the flu as I climb into the car with Vincenzo. The long drive and my lack of texts is enough to make me crazy. I take the edge off with a glass of scotch. It becomes two. And ends with me feeling a little happier than I need to for dinner with family friends. When I arrive at the house, Mom escorts me into the kitchen and passes me a bun. “You drank your lunch?” “No.” I burp and take the bread. “I drank my afternoon snack.” “You know, Sami, this irresponsible phase is actually just becoming who you are, and you’re way too old not to be living your life in a productive way. It’s pathetic to see you wasting all your time and our money,” she sneers and leaves me in the kitchen. Tears build in a lump in my throat but the bread pushes them back down. I paste a smile on my face, ignoring the kitchen staff staring at me, and stand up straight for my exit into the living room. I can almost feel the strings moving my body as I smile at the Palfreys. “Sami, darling, you’ve grown into such a lady.” Mrs. Palfrey takes me into her embrace and kisses my cheeks. “It’s lovely to see you, dear.” “Yes, you as well,” I say, almost on command. My father’s eyes dart from me to my mother as if some sort of hateful Morse code. “My wife is correct; you have grown into a beautiful woman.” Richard Palfrey hugs me, smelling an awful lot like scotch himself. I recall him better than his wife. I always thought he was cute when I was younger. “And surely you remember our son.” He directs me to the left where Zach Palfrey is standing with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Zachary.” “Of course.” I saunter to him, trying desperately to maintain my composure. When he takes my hand and kisses the back of it, I have to admit he got hotter. A lot hotter. He’s way taller than I recall and he might have grown into his man body. Marrying him might not be the end of the world. The end of my heart, yes, but not the end of the world. “Sami,” he mutters. “Zach.” “How’s Matt?” He lowers his voice as our parents resume whatever conversation I’ve interrupted. “I wouldn’t know,” I answer truthfully. “Oh.” He’s surprised. “You aren’t seeing him?” “No.” “Interesting.” He leads me to the veranda overlooking the pool. “He’s sort of under the impression there’s a lot more between you than that.” “When did you talk to him last?” I laugh, curious that we’re having this conversation. “Yesterday. I was in New York visiting Carson. Matt was there. I mentioned we were having dinner. He was pissed off, to say it nicely. He told me not to get my hopes up, that he was already first in line for a Sami Ford fuck over and that you and he had a thing.” “A fuck over and a thing?” I can’t believe this.

“His words, not mine. He even laughed when he said it.” “Was he drunk?” “Yeah, very. He was a hot mess. Carson put him to bed. It was hard to watch.” He laughs harder. “Matt’s always so stoic.” “That he is.” “So?” “It’s exactly what he said it is, a thing.” I downplay it like Matt did. “Are things exclusive?” “Are you seriously asking me questions about another guy on our arranged date?” I mock. “Yes.” His eyes sparkle with delight. “I arranged this so I get to choose how it’s going to go.” My stomach tightens, in a bad way. “You did?” “Of course. You’re beautiful, Sami Ford, and single by some miracle. Maybe it’s meant to be.” He takes a step forward. “Maybe.” I let slip the strangest laugh ever, almost a bleat like a sheep. “But I’m not in the market for a husband.” “Sami, we’re not getting younger. We have to start thinking about the future.” “Why does everyone think I’m not?” I step back, a bit stunned by his boldness considering we haven’t seen each other in a couple of years. “What are you doing?” “Stuff.” I refuse to share the secrets. “Carson told us about your marriage pact. Which is ridiculous. You should marry someone who’s crazy about you, not possibly into your driver and the maid.” He folds his arms across his broad chest. “This is an insane conversation for twenty-three. I feel like any minute someone’s going to step from the shadows and offer me a goat for my virginity.” His laugh suggests he doesn’t believe I’m a virgin. I let that one slide, joining him in the giggle. “You’re funnier than I remember.” “And you’re more brash.” “Why waste time? Why not just say the thing I’m thinking?” “Because it gets you into trouble.” The way he is, reminds me of my dad, arrogant and confident. I can’t imagine being married to someone like him. I can’t even imagine being married. “Have you met Lori?” I change the subject. “Yes, of course. Lawrence, he’s a good guy. His grandpa and my dad are old friends.” He scoffs. “Lawrence is the old man’s favorite. I heard he’s going to inherit most of the family business.” “What? He’s just one of the random grandkids.” “He’s the only hard worker amongst them, and the old man made his fortune, he doesn't think he should have to give it away because they’re family. Lawrence is the only one who works for himself completely and is independently wealthy.” “He is?” “Yeah. He had a job when he was a kid and invested his trust fund. He’s worth a fortune on his own.” “That’s so weird. He seems so—” I laugh as I say it, thinking of Nat, “Down to

earth.” “He is.” Zach sighs and comes even closer. “What’s the deal with you and Matt? For real?” “I don't know.” “Do you love him?” “Maybe.” I nod. “Maybe I do.” It’s insane to admit this to Zach but I think it might be the best way to ensure he doesn't waste his time chasing me down. “Bummer.” He winces. “I heard you like hockey so I was kinda hoping—” “I have a friend who might be right up your alley. Natalie Banks.” “The cute blonde that dates Fairfield?” He looks confused. “He blew it. He’s out. She’s single right now and living in Hartford.” “We play there quite soon. You should come and we’ll all meet up afterward and hang out.” He smiles wide. “Sounds like a plan.” The rest of the night is fun. Our parents get along great and Zach and I gossip like old women. It’s nice to have him as a friend again.

CHAPTER 13

TRUST FUND KIDS

A pril 3, 2016

Natalie “Remember when I called you, crying in the bathroom at work because Brady had just told me he liked me and wanted to date me?” I glance over and grin at Sami in the seat next to me. “Yeah, that was awful. I felt sick. Never in a million years did I think you and Brady might be more than puck buddies.” She winks. “Me either. I was thinking about that the other day, him standing in the rain confessing his feelings. Both of us trying to find balance. And then a couple of months later we move in together anyway.” I laugh. “It’s all so weird.” “It was fast and intense, but I don't know that there’s a pace you’re supposed to go. I think that’s different for everyone.” She sounds funny again. “Are we going to talk about the fact you’re still wearing that ring on the wrong hand?” I don't understand her. “No. Nothing to tell. He asked me to think about it all and date like normal people and that's what we’re doing.” “Why aren’t you wearing the ring on the right finger? Promise rings go on the same finger, just the left hand.” “It’s not a real ring, it’s a fake.” She holds the ring up. “It’s a Swarovski crystal.” She laughs. “It’s actually not even a real promise ring.” She’s clearly embarrassed by the whole thing. “A billionaire bought you a fake ring? You’re really not engaged at all?” My jaw drops. “No. I told you we weren’t. I agreed to think about it.” “But he asked you to marry him?” My insides start hurting, like they used to with her and Matt before she confessed about them and their weird relationship. “Yes and no. He asked me to think about the prospect of marriage and us and a future and promised me his heart, with the ring. It was romantic.” She’s defending herself and him. This is serious. “So you have been, like for real, dating since January?” “December.” She pauses. “Well, actually much longer. We were dating for months, sort of dating.”

“His idea?” I have to assume. “No. Mine. I didn't want to date at all, but then I started to see I was being petty.” She scowls. “Why?” “I just think it’s weird that you have this thing and no one really knows what it is, including you two, and then you start dating but not really. And now you’re wearing a ring and not engaged, but your hearts are promised to each other, which means you’re discussing marriage. And yet you’re not even trying to live together to find out if you can stand living with the other person.” I exhale loudly after the long spiel. “I never said it wasn't weird.” “Or tried to explain it.” “I don't think there’s any point.” She smiles when she looks at the ring. “We’re complex. I need to prove I’m not some drunken hot mess, and he has to prove he’s not a hockey player thug. His parents don't like me at all, and my dad wants me to marry Zach Palfrey.” Her cheeks redden even more. “What? Still? Even after you tried to hook him up with me?” “It was before Brady. I didn't know you and Brady were already Clintoning.” “Gross. Are you serious though? Your dad still likes Zach, even after you and Matt have pretty much come out to the public?” “Very. My dad doesn't believe the Matt rumors.” She meets my gaze. “But Zach isn’t going to happen, no matter what my dad says. He’s hot. He’s funny. He’s sexy. He’s great at hockey. But he’s not my type.” “He’s not Matt.” “He’s not Matt,” she agrees. “So we are both trying to come up with identities the other parents can cope with. I don't want to be cut off, especially now that my dad is one of our partners. And Matt doesn't want to be disinherited, which his father would be fine with. His dad likes Tony, his older brother, much better anyway.” “God, that's cutthroat.” “I know it. His parents are worse than mine. Ever since the inception of Princess and the Pauper, my dad has complete faith in me. Honestly, I could end up in rehab for real or even marry a cameraman; my dad wouldn't even flinch. So if his family does disown him, we’ll be fine.” One of the cameramen glances back at us, grinning. She doesn't even notice. “Yes, life’s hard for you trust fund kids.” “It is, dick.” She nestles into her seat on her private jet, with her special espresso that she had flown in from a random small batch brewing company in Stratford-upon-Avon, England. The irony of the sentence is lost on her. Though I can’t deny the greatness of the latte. It is the best coffee I’ve ever had. The first time we went to see Shakespeare’s birthplace, we randomly happened upon a shop that served it, Monsoon Estates Coffee. We were both in love then, and she has it flown over every month. I sip my latte too, savoring the smooth taste. When we finally land in Steamboat, I’m ready for a nap.

Instead, we meet Maxine’s friend, Sonia. She’s exactly like Maxine, only the winter Barbie version. She has on fluffy white boots with heels and a red puffy jacket but her nails are stiletto and perfect and her makeup is flawless. “Hello, ladies. How was the flight?” She greets us but starts walking straightaway, though still talking as if she doesn't want an answer. Sami ignores the behavior. It’s fairly common for her to be with self-important people. “And for the seven listings I have to show you—” “Seven?” Sami grimaces. “You can’t narrow it to three?” Sami is done with house hunting. Seeing the mansions in New York exhausted her. And honestly, I got tired of seeing marble and glittering chandeliers too. It’s been five days of hell. “No. They’re all so different. There’s no way we can limit until we know more specifically what it is you’re seeking.” “Cameras are rolling,” I mutter, hoping she remembers that before she has the hissy fit that’s cresting her lips. “I sent you a detailed—is there a suitable hotel here?” The disdain in her voice is slathered on but she recovers well. “Yes, it’s a lovely luxury resort hotel. Steamboat Grand. Quite popular. I booked you a penthouse for a couple of nights.” “Okay, that’s fine then.” Sami isn’t excited. She’s maintaining her composure as best as she can but watching her not get her way is always awkward for everyone. When we get to the car, I cringe. It’s a huge SUV limo, the ridiculous kind no one wants to ride in. Sami calls them douche limos. By the look on her face I suspect she’s thinking those very words as we climb in. At least it’s warm inside. Steamboat Springs hasn't gotten the memo it’s spring, apparently. The camera crew is focused hard on Sami, hoping the storm brewing beneath her calm surface will explode out, but she’s texting Matt back and not focusing. Half of this show is going to be Sami or me texting, sometimes each other. “So, where’s the first house?” I ask, pulling the focus onto me. “A beautiful property about three miles to the city center, offering privacy, which I know is important to celebrities, and the ski hill is quite close.” She hands us a brochure for the home. Sami doesn't look at it, unfortunately, as she’s too busy sending some lengthy text to Matt about the mansions. Sonia is watching my eyes for the necessary approval of the property, so I can’t warn Sami. We drive for about ten minutes with Sonia nattering my ears off and Sami staring out the window. I’ve gently booted her in the foot about three times, but she hasn't caught on and I can’t be more obvious than that. So when we pull up to the house, Sami’s jaw drops. “Is that a log house?” It might as well be a shed in the woods. Forget the thirteen-million-dollar price tag. “It’s very modern inside, a true luxury home. And it’s on over a hundred acres.” Sonia comes to the defense of the farm. There really is no other word for it. “It’s the most expensive property in Steamboat.” “Dear God.” Sami swallows all the bitterness and things she isn’t allowed to say, and climbs out, offering me a sneer.

“It’s expansive.” I smile at the cameras, knowing this will be a favorite episode for the fans. They’re going to adore the shitty look on Sami’s face, the entire way through this house. “Very expansive, and actually, as Steamboat grows into a bigger resort community, land will be at a premium, so it could be subdivided in the future.” Sonia strolls up to the house where a man answers the door. He’s wearing cowboy boots, a hat, tight jeans, and a plaid shirt. He looks like a stripper, not a cheap one but one of the classy strippers where the theme has some serious funds put into it. “Howdy, welcome.” He tips his hat, offering Sami his callused hand. “I’m Boyd and this is my uncle’s ranch. He wanted me to come and meet y’all, offer you a tour.” He’s a straight-up cowboy. He even has a bruised fingernail. “Hi.” Sami daintily touches his fingers and then jerks as he shakes her whole body eagerly. “Welcome to the Sun Star Ranch. We’re a real working ranch. The land on the other side of the highway”—he points to the small road we just drove in on—“is where we farm. This small plot belongs to my uncle who is building a new house on the other side of those hills.” He chuckles but I don’t know why. Vexed is the only way to describe Sami, but she keeps it together, nodding at the chairs with horses carved into the backs of them and the stone fireplace that Boyd helped build. “I’m originally from Tennessee, my daddy’s farm is back there. But my grandpa needed help here so I moved on over. I even took up that snowboarding recently. It’s a real blast. Have y’all been?” He smiles wide; charm seems to ooze from him naturally. “We ski,” Sami answers for me, looking as unimpressed as is possible for her without the bitchy face. “Excellent, there’s great skiing here. Now if y’all want to follow me outside, I’ll show you the barn.” He leads us out. Sami’s nostrils flare but she survives the mixing stench of horse shit and something Boyd tells us is called snow mold. When we finally get back into the douche limo she gives Sonia the look, the one that suggests she’s a hair’s width from losing her shit everywhere and throwing the most epic of temper tantrums. “No log homes. No farms. No barns. No cowboys. No out of town. I want to ski to my house. No apartments or condos or penthouses.” She’s repeating the items she had on the detailed list she gave Maxine to give to Sonia. Sonia swallows the lump in her throat and nods. “Right. Well, that cuts the list considerably.” Nervously, she rifles the pages in her brochure and pulls out four of them. “There are three properties for you to see.” She hands them to us, shaking slightly. “Thank you.” Sami doesn't move a hand to take the papers so I do. The three places are built almost the same. They’re rustic and nothing we would ever want to live in. By the time we finally finish seeing the houses and arrive at the Steamboat Grand, Sami is psychotic. She hands cash to the concierge and points at our crew.

“Find them a room far from me and be available.” And closes the doors on the film crew, leaving everyone in the hallway. She turns to face me, her right eye twitches and her lips are pressed into a fine line. “What part of luxury was Sonia thinking this hotel would have?” The penthouse is also rustic, like a log house. It smells of open fireplace and is too warm. Neither of us will ever be able to get to sleep in this. “Who wants to get drunk?” I ask, nodding my head at the bar. “I do, I do!” She saunters over. “And since the room doesn't come with staff. We get to pour our own drinks. How tedious.” She mixes me a gin and tonic with extra limes and herself a dirty martini. “It wasn't so bad,” I make an attempt which she shoots down with a furrowed brow. “It wasn't? Were we on separate house hunting trips? The best one still has wood fucking paneling everywhere. I’m going to spend a fortune redoing it so I don't feel like I’m trapped in some Swiss lodge, minus the amazing pancakes,” she growls. “And if Sonia thinks she’s some big broker because here in Podunkville she can sell a thirteen-million-dollar barn, she has a lot to learn.” “Keep drinking, your meanness will fade.” I motion with my hand and finish my drink too quickly. “Oh God, this was the worst. I’m almost scared of the houses we’re seeing next.” “Don't be.” I grin, preparing her for the best surprise. “I spoke with your dad and asked where he would like to see brought up for beachy places. He said we should focus on an area outside of the Hamptons, it’s tired and old. Everyone who’s anyone has the Hamptons.” “You’re right.” She sits up, appearing intrigued. “Where were you thinking?” “At first, I thought Lake Como in Italy but then I heard that George Clooney has made it a bit of a circus. So I decided not. But there’s this house in Cannes, which if you were smart you’d buy and then let celebrities rent it during the Cannes film festival.” Her eyes dull. “Rent?” “You don’t think that letting out your houses, a house you won’t even be living in, to celebrities and other VIPs isn’t genius?” Sometimes she’s thick. “Houses you ensure have that Sami Ford flair?” “Why would I do that?” “To show people what the Sami Ford lifestyle is. Then other celebs are decorating their houses similar to yours and wearing the clothes and jewelry and products you endorse. Making you an even bigger spokesperson.” “Oh, that’s actually smart.” She nods. “I guess it just seems weird that I would have a house and then let strangers stay in it. But honestly, the staff would be there year round. We’ve stayed at people’s houses before. We didn't pay but we have used other properties in other countries. I guess it would be like that.” “And it’s not like Brad Pitt’s going to steal the china.” I roll my eyes. “Oh my God, do you think Brad Pitt would stay there?” She gushes, looking

better, less annoyed. “I do.” I don’t tell her that her dad and I discussed this for a long while. He asked me to have the conversation with her first, see how she feels about the idea. “What’s the place in Cannes like?” “There are several, one in particular. It’s a French castle, in amazing shape,” I add quickly before she can veto it. She hates her parents’ castle in England. We both find it dank and creepy. “Okay, let’s make it our first stop. Cannes.” She says it like she’s testing out the sound in her mouth again and then gives me a scowl. “Speaking of going on a luxurious house hunting trip, we should plan it for when the guys are off.” “We can’t.” I wince. “Hockey season is not ending soon enough, and they want the summerhouse sorted straightaway so we can begin shooting decor.” “Right.” She sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, I love hockey. I adore it. We both know I do.” She waves her hands between us as she gets up and takes my glass and walks to the bar. “But this hockey-season widow thing is intense. I can count the number of times I’ve seen Matt since Christmas.” “I know. I hate it. Brady’s never home. I was actually thinking about getting a cat so I have someone around. Liz is miserable in Hartford too.” “At least Brady and Mike don’t also have to spend time with their father as well as me.” “I think Brady might do anything to spend time with his father.” I cock an eyebrow. She’s so selfish sometimes. “Right, he liked his dad. Matt’s doing it to impress my dad and his.” “Yeah.” She isn’t getting rich-people sympathy on this one. “I’m in such a shitty mood that the drink gave me heartburn. Awesome.” She mixes me a drink and brings it over with a bottle of water for herself. “I feel like the bloody maid.” She scowls at the hotel room as she sits and sips her drink. She doesn’t see that someone ensured all her favorites were in the bar, only that her room is without staff. Honestly, if we had staff, she’d be complaining about that too. She’s in a Sami mood. There’s no point in doing anything but feeding it and backing away slowly. “Room service?” I ask sweetly. “Sure. Maybe if we’re lucky we won’t have to cook it ourselves.” “Mmmhmmm.” I block out her grumbling with the menu in front of me, scanning the options and contemplating how the guys’ game has gone. “We should turn on the highlights from yesterday’s game.” “Already ahead of you. Come sit next to me.” She clicks on the iPad and we watch NBC Sports. The highlights don’t show much, except the loss to Buffalo. Sami wrinkles her nose. “I don’t understand how the hell they’ve lost their last three games.” She taps her fingers against the sofa, grimacing at a clip of Miller high-sticking. “Oh my God.” My heart swells when it shows Brady on the ice for half a second, looking fierce. I never imagined in all my life that some jock could make me feel like this, from across the country. “I can’t watch this. Morons.” She turns the iPad off and clicks on the TV, turning

it to the channel with Practical Magic, grinning. “One day, that’s going to be you and me, minus the kids and the magic. Just us, hiding in a house on the coast, both widows, scaring the townsfolk.” She cackles. “Whatever.” I laugh and pick out food for us both, calling downstairs, and then changing into something comfy. It’s exactly the night we both need.

CHAPTER 14

I LOVE YOU, I REALLY LOVE YOU

N ov. 30, 2015

Sami “That was nice of you.” I say it, even though he’s still barely speaking to me. I don’t know what else I’ve done, besides obviously being a dick with the end of school and me and Nat having some rough patches. But everything has been fine for weeks and Matt is still being weird. “What was?” He lifts his gaze from the newspaper. He should be sleeping since he has a game in Buffalo tomorrow, but I popped in, unexpectedly. Clearly, it went over about as well as a slap in the face. Something I’m contemplating giving him, but decide to remain civil and answer him, “Her birthday.” “Whose?” “Nat’s.” I laugh, confusedly. “Who else’s birthdays have you helped out on? Is this a thing you do, provide people with birthday services?” “No.” He doesn’t laugh. Apparently, we don’t have humor anymore. “But if you don’t say the name, I can’t read your mind. You have to give me the whole story.” “Okay, well it was nice seeing you for this half an hour of you reading the paper and me trying to talk to you.” I stand. “I won’t make this mistake again.” I turn and leave the room. “Good night.” I can’t fucking believe him. I make it all the way to my building and am crossing the foyer to my private elevator when I hear his voice. “Is it true?” I spin around, startled Matt’s here and that he’s shouting at me in the lobby of my building. “Is what true?” I snap back at him. “You and Palfrey?” “Me and Palfrey? Seriously? I can’t do this right now. I’ll call you later.” I turn and hurry to the elevator, but he crosses the lobby quickly, hurrying inside with me, heaving his breath like he might have run all the way here. “Are you insane?” I have to ask. He’s acting nuts and he’s wet, which makes me think he ran here in the rain.

“Is it true?” he barks. “You have to be more specific. I don’t read your mind either,” I snap back. “Is your father pushing you to be with him?” His voice cracks slightly and the intense hatred in his eyes transforms into agony. “Did you fuck him? Are you fucking him?” “Why do you care?” I drag it out, torturing him for a second longer, even though I know the truth of me and Palfrey. Matt’s been a shit for weeks. “You went to a puck fuck party with him? You took Nat there?” “So what? I’m free to do whatever I want with whomever I want. You don't want to be with me. You don’t return my calls, and when you do, it’s one-word answers and you’re being distant. We act fine around other people, but then it’s back to ignoring me when we’re alone. Why do you care if Zach Palfrey is going to ask me out?” “You’re mine,” he growls, coming forward, pinning me against the marble wall and glass with his chest against mine. His hair hangs down over his eyes, wet from the rain. “Yours? For what? To ignore and treat like shit because I was in a bitchy mood and hurt your feelings?” I shove back, knowing it’s provoking him. “Sami.” He warns. “It’s true. I was a cranky whore at the end of August and into September, but I was stressed. I acted horribly, for which I have apologized. I expected you to man up and accept my apology. Not pout like a little bitch for so long.” A vein appears on his forehead, pulsating like an SOS, telling me to stop, that I’ve gone far enough. But I love going that one step too far. “So yes, Zach Palfrey is my father’s choice in a boyfriend for now, and maybe a husband. Am I against it, I don’t know. He’s hot and funny and bold.” I lean in, glaring up at him. I want him to snap. I want him to think I’m not strung out on him. Hovering above me, breathing like he’s just run a marathon, Matt glowers down on me but somehow he gains control again. His eyes are filled with the vile things he isn’t saying, even though I can tell he wants to. Instead, he steps back and presses the button for my penthouse as if he has complete control over the beast inside him. “You’re not dating him.” I’m disappointed. “You’re not dating him or anyone else.” He isn’t angry, he’s blunt. His eyes are wild. What I mistook to be hatred and agony is something else, something crazy. He takes a step toward me, so close our chests are almost touching again. “I’ve played this fucking game with you for almost a year. You’ve been a nightmare, to say the least. You’ve redefined the word cocktease, which I’ve endured. Someone sent you a picture of me getting a blow job in the shower when I was dating you, I get it. Because of that I’ve taking your fucking accusations and terrible opinion of me because I did fuck up, a little. And I own that. But I’m done.” He points a meaty finger in my face. “I am done being your little whipping bitch. I’m finished with this fucking game. You aren’t going to date anyone else, because you love me, Sami

Ford. You and that tiny little stone of a heart, are mine. I love you and you love me, as much as your cold fucking heart can love another person. And I don’t want to hear another goddamned word about Palfrey or your parents or mine or anything else!” He shouts a little at the end. “You’re my girl! You always have been!” His fingers are trembling a little but when he grabs my face it isn’t harsh. “You love me?” It’s honestly the only part I really heard. “I fucking love you so much my insides ache whenever you’re not around and then they ache even more when you are. My stupid plan was to sabotage your deal and make you fall in love with me and forgive me but all that’s happening is I’m falling more in love with you. I don’t give a single shit about anything in this entire world, except you. And my grandma. So tell me the truth, are you even considering that anyone but me is the right choice for you?” My throat tightens but I fight the tears. “Sami.” He’s not only warning, he’s also beseeching. “No.” I smile wide, warm and fluffy from the confession of love. I close my eyes and exhale deeply, leaning into him. “I missed you, Beast.” It might be petty but I needed that. I needed that major step from him before I could let down my guard again. He wraps all the way around me, pulling me so tightly into him I can barely breathe. “I love you.” He says it again and it’s officially the most magical thing I’ve ever heard. “I really thought we were going to have elevator sex,” I mutter into his wet jacket, feeling unsure of what to say to the declaration. “We still can.” He chuckles. “No, this is better. I’m winning.” I drag him through the door and up to my room to snuggle. I can’t wait to torture him for the last few weeks of the year. “Seriously, we could still go back to the elevator.” He tries to pull me backward. “No. I have plans for you, Brimley.” I can’t fight the grin on my face. “We’re going to snuggle and eat sundaes and watch a chick flick and maybe I’ll let you braid my hair.” “I told you I love you and this is your response?” “Yes.” I grin back at him. “This is your prize for admitting defeat. The deal still stands for a couple of more weeks. Take it or leave it.” I finally have the upper hand again. It’s cold and crafty, but I have severely sucked at this stupid game we’ve played, always letting him win. I might not have started strong, but I am going to finish strong.

CHAPTER 15

LESBIAN LOVERS

A pril 5, 2016

Natalie Brady passes, trying to get the puck out of their end but someone on Tampa steals it, shooting at the net. I gasp, exhaling when Lundqvist saves it. “Oh God, he’s a good goalie.” Sami winces, screaming, “Come on! Get it outta there!” Her cries are too late as Tampa scores off the save, hitting the post and then Lundquist’s back before going in. “Fuck!” she screams. “Come on! You’re getting paid to play!” The guy next to her growls, “That fucking Boyle.” Watching hockey with her and the New Yorkers is embarrassing. The puck resets and we all sit and wait for the Rangers to get on the board. Lundqvist saves a long shot as Brady checks someone into the boards. The line switches and the first period ends with a 2–0 lead for Tampa. “Jesus Christ.” Sami does her version of pray cussing as she chomps down a hot dog. “If it wasn’t for Lundqvist this game would be over. Where is the defense tonight?” The guy next to her points. “Tampa is on the puck. They never let up. They outshoot us two to one. If we had a shit goalie, we’d be fucked.” “We’re fucked anyway. New York decided not to show up to the game.” Sami nods, chewing like a cow. “Maybe they’re forgetting it’s the end of the season, not some preseason game.” New Yorkers are savages. When the team is playing well, no one loves their team more. When they’re not, they turn on them faster than you can imagine. Second period starts and the team seems a little more alive. Matt skates wide, taking a slap shot but it’s saved. Miller, the feisty one, checks someone named Garrison who returns the favor moments later. Another slap shot is attempted, but no luck. “Holy shit!” Sami shouts. “Stepan is open!” “Why are there so many face-offs?” I ask but am waved off by the guy next to me and Sami.

Tampa makes a shot but it’s wide, missing the net. Sami is frothing. The guy next to us looks like he might be choking on his hot dog, but he’s screaming to the point that there’s no sound. It’s tense until almost the end of the period when one of the Rangers, Derek Stepan, scores. Sami jumps into the arms of the old chubby guy and they jump up and down, hugging. I cheer like a normal human being. Apparently, I am one in a million in the Garden. The hits grow more violent as the clock ticks on, getting to the end of the period. Brady hits someone into the boards but ends up with penalty minutes, called for tripping. “Come on, ref! He tripped on his own!” Sami defends Brady, but I offer a mere wave at the penalty box. He doesn’t wave back. He doesn’t even see me. He’s in the game. In the third period the Rangers finally score two more times to win against Tampa, but it has been a brutal game. For me, the high of watching them play has worn off a little. I like the game, just not the way Sami, Brady, Mike, and Matt do. Liz and I are still fairly into it, but more in a “that's a hot guy smashing into another hot guy and I like it” sense. Personally, my favorite is the end of the game when they win. Brady smells like a man and fucks like an animal. It’s the best in this world. The reward for eight months of him being busy, distracted, sore, tired, and cranky. May can’t come fast enough, although apparently, they still have to play in June, something I still don't get. Preseason is a creature I am confused by, it and the points. But I don't care. Brady and I are going to spend May, July, and August together. I can’t wait. First, I need to refinish the entire apartment with the design team so I appear to live there in the place for the Pauper. And then I have to find a beach house for poor people. I’m actually dreading that part. Beach houses for poor people have rodents and weird smells and hookers for neighbors. “What a game!” Sami claps her mitted hands together, beaming like she just played. Technically, she coached the whole game but who’s counting? “You ready to get some food?” “You just ate an entire hot dog.” “I worked up an appetite.” She burps and rubs her stomach. “Clearly.” I laugh and link my arm in hers, leaving the arena in our incognito outfits. There’s dressing down and then there’s Sami at a hockey game. I don't understand why I had to wear a hoodie, loose-fitting jeans, and a ball cap with my fingerless gloves but whatever. “When we get outside the arena, we’ll run for the limo and meet the guys after, okay?” We always leave a tiny bit early and pretty much sprint to the car with paparazzi chasing us. Which is also why I don't get the dressing down. No one is fooled, and we end up with shitty pictures in the rag magazines anyway.

TMZ got a photo of me last week I’m still a little sore over. I had dubs and was mid sneeze so I appeared to be having a seizure. I felt like Melanie Griffith eating a donut. They snuck out of the bushes and caught probably the worst photo ever taken of me. Being friends with Sami has amazing moments, the kind regular friends won’t ever have, but it also has the TMZ photos. When we get to the doors, she runs for it. She’s winded in seconds, of course. She’s the fattest skinny person ever. I grab her arm and drag her through the crowd as they hit. “Sami! Sami, look over here!” “Ms. Ford! Were you here watching Matt Brimley’s game again?” “Has he popped the question? We heard you’re going for a summer wedding in France!” Vincenzo shoves them back and gets us inside as the doors close to the sound of someone shouting, “Is that your lesbian lover, Sami?” She scowls. “Why is it whenever I dress like this they think I’m gay? Do they seriously not know a single well dressed lesbian?” “I don't know.” I can’t help but laugh. “I know tons. Like handfuls of women who dig chicks that I can name off the top of my head, that I have met, who dress impeccably. Portia de Rossi is the first on that list. She’s stunning.” “She’s stunning,” I mutter and shoot Brady a quick text, congratulating him on the win and that we’ll meet them at the restaurant. The word “restaurant” pops a thought into my mind. “We’re going home to change, right?” I glance at our jeans and hoodies. “Duh.” Sami rolls her eyes. “Like I’d be seen anywhere except the Garden in this.” She puckers her perfectly glossed lips. “I have Nadia setting us up some outfits and we’re going to do a Taylor Swift costume change. It’s a little whirlwind, but it’ll take a while for the guys to shower.” “Okay good.” I sit back. “They played well tonight.” “They got lucky in the last period, they played for shit. Tampa was 2–1 for shots on goal. If our goalie wasn't so good, we’d be in trouble.” A scowl crosses her brow. “And it’s going to be us and Pittsburgh in the end, battling for the East. If they don't pick up their socks we’re out.” “Don't jinx them.” “I’m not.” Her eyes widen. “I want them to win the cup. That would be the epic end to this season, but I don't think it’s in the cards.” She narrows her gaze and points at me. “Don't tell them I said it.” “Like I would want them to know we’re already counting them out. They don't shave or change their underwear; I’m not going to make it sound like Madam Sami had a prediction. Jeesh.” “Madam Sami?” She chuckles. “Madam Sami is predicting some serious carbs for dinner. I am starving.” She rubs her stomach. “You should weigh five hundred pounds. This is where all your heartburn’s coming from.” “I know.” She doesn't even try to argue the fact. “Mom keeps saying it’s going

to catch up to me, but I don't think so. I think all the heels make normal walking more like a workout.” That makes me laugh. “You’re an idiot.” “Maybe. But look at my calves.” She pulls up her pant leg and flashes her leg at me. “Oh my God.” I can’t help but laugh harder. I love days like this with her. No work or relationship crap, just she and I and of course her amazing calves . . . It’s a perfect day. A perfect calm before the storm.

CHAPTER 16

NOT CHINESE NEW YEAR

D ecember 3, 2015

Sami My head aches as I crawl from the covers and stumble to the bright bathroom. The morning light is actually trying to kill me. Everything hurts but the explanation as to why is delayed. What did we do last night? Leaning against the tile surrounding the tub, I lift a trembling hand to my head and try to sort the memories. The dragon stamp on my wrist reminds me there was something about Chinese New Year, and we ate Chinese food. I remember that but I can’t remember why. Do we celebrate Chinese New Year now? Is it even Chinese New Year? How can it be New Year if it’s still December? I don't remember drinking much but the whole evening is fuzzy. Leaning forward in the stark white bathroom, I catch a glimpse of the hairy man-leg poking out of my pristine pale bedding. My stomach sinks. I let him stay over? We’ve almost made it to the end and now he’s in my bed again? He hasn't really left much since the confession a couple of days ago. Shit! Drunk Sami and Matt in bed is always a bad outcome. I reach a hand down over my underwear, feeling if we had sex. I want to believe I held out, but you can’t tell with us. Drunk sex is a problem. I suspect it’s always going to be a problem. Because it’s the only time we’re both a hundred-percent honest with each other about how we feel. Although he’s been particularly honest this past few days. Heart racing and stomach tight, I tiptoe from the bathroom, fighting the urge to throw up, and search the room for a condom or a wrapper. But there’s nothing. Sighing, I creep back into the bathroom and close the door. Maybe we didn’t have sex. I wiggle my body, trying to see if anything feels different, used. It doesn’t. I feel achy and hungover, but other than that, I feel normal. My reflection would beg to differ. My hair is everywhere, strands of honey-

blonde locks are matted to each other like there might still be a bun in there somewhere. My eyes are slightly swollen, like maybe I cried. Shit, did I cry? Why would I cry? I swallow and notice the ache in my throat suggesting I might have puked which would explain the puffy eyes. I am a hot mess. I hope we didn't have sex, Jesus help me. My white tank top is see-through like Baloney Barb’s and my pale blue shorts are so short I look like I’m smuggling a beaver in there. I lift my arm, revealing a tuft of fur. It’s time for a wax, everywhere. Our game of no sex has me off my schedule. I haven’t been doing the weekly or even monthly maintenance. I haven’t needed to. No one sees me naked, ever. The only person snuggling up to my wooly legs is Nat and she’s barely home, ever. Speaking of Nat, she was at the party. I remember her there. It was a team party. What was it for? Why was Chinese New Year the theme? A light comes on in my still tired mind. Rangers lost against Colorado so they decided they wanted a pity party. I must have drank. A lot. I haven’t been drinking at all. I haven’t had time. The games room in some random apartment flashes back into my memory, something about a games room. It’s there but not. Unlike the lingering flavor of vomit. That I can taste clear as day. Shuddering, I peel my clothes off and step into the shower, setting it to warmer than I should and turning the steam on. I need to sweat a little. Or a lot. But the chills and hangover shivers won’t let go of me, even in the steam. I need emergency services. I need an IV and some greasy breakfast. I wash up, taking an extra clean sweep through the areas that might hint at whether I had sex or not. I feel normal, thank God. We haven’t had sex since the last time I gave in, the night at the beach. But we’ve been tormenting each other with possibility. I really want to make the New Year and start over, exactly like he said. He just wants this over, now. He’s begged, pleaded, feigned indifference, and flat-out tried dragging me to his place to fuck but I’m staying strong. I made a deal and I need to finish it as I’ve envisioned it. Which also means I can’t wait for the New Year and new us. It’s been an interesting year. A slight grin crosses my lips as I deem devising the demise of William the highlight of the year, no contest. Blow Job Brady, the master of the disgusting, dehumanizing Clinton, was the perfect roommate. Gorgeous. Check. Chiseled. Check. Slutty. Check.

Seductive. Check. Completely turned on by nerdy girls. Check. Without morals. Check. And yet the nicest guy in the world and a complete gentleman to girls he isn’t Clintoning. Check. It had been the perfect plan, until they took it too far and fell in love. There have been some rocky moments, but they got ironed out in the wash, as Nadia always says. Now they’re dating like adults. I can’t help but wonder if everyone else is hungover too or if I got food poisoning or something. The shower isn’t helping. In fact, the water pounding my head starts to make my headache worse. I climb from the shower, ready to tuck tail and order my hangover cocktail when the bathroom door opens. “Ah!” I scream in surprise, and from the pounding in my head getting worse and grab for a towel on the wall. Matt snatches it away too fast, his eyes sparkling with delight. “Give it to me,” I growl, clutching my head. “Not a chance.” His eyes traipse my drenched and naked body. I don’t even try to cover up, hoping this burns his balls even more. “Going wild with the natural look, huh? Nice.” He winks. “It’s not my favorite but I do dig it on you. You look good no matter what state you’re in.” “You’re disgusting.” I strut to him, snatching at the towel. Matt lifts it in the air behind him so I have to slide my wet body across his bare chest. “I love it when you rub your wet ti—” “Don’t say it,” I snarl and grab at the towel, letting him enjoy the feel of me naked. It’s all he’s getting. “We have rules, Brimley. This game isn’t over yet.” “You have rules, Ford. Not me. I told you, I’m done.” He grins. Him half naked, leering, and flirting is one of my favorites, but I need to maintain the boundaries. I’m so close to the end and I’m finally winning. Drying off, I leave the bathroom, padding over to the phone to text Nadia. “Sami, come on. All joking aside, I figured after last night we might actually be making some headway—” “What happened last night?” I turn fast, lowering the phone and swaying from the room spins. “The talk we had, at Miller’s. Your confession.” “Talk?” I lift my brows, completely confused by it. “Confession?” Shit! “You want to play like it was just the booze?” He loses some of the humor in his face. “It was the booze. I don’t remember drinking so much. I recall the game. That guy, Lindberg, scored the only goal. Miller decided to have a spontaneous pity party and we ate Chinese food with half the team and spouses.” I narrow my gaze, trying to recall even a single other detail. “Unbelievable. It’s been almost a year of this, with no end, and now we finally finish it, and you were so drunk you don’t remember?” His voice raises, making me cringe in pain. “You’re never going to get over this, are you? It’s going to be this same shit show until you’re tired of whatever the hell this is”—he waves his hands

between us—“and then you’re going to break things off and laugh about it for thirty years.” His eyes are getting to that dark and scary place, the place where the beast lives. “Laugh about how you made Matt Brimley your little bitch because he gave you one single moment to doubt him and accidentally humiliated you. So you showed him? Jesus Christ, Sami! I can’t keep doing this! I can’t keep paying for not being smart enough to see Laramie for what he was.” “I gave you the rules, you agreed.” My heart is stopped in my chest, crushed with fear as I realize how fragile this thing is. “I am done with games. I told you I love you and you told me you loved me. No more games.” He crosses the floor, scooping me up into his arms, and carrying me to the bed. “No, I didn't.” I squirm but he grips tightly until he gets to the bed and dumps me on it, climbing on and wrapping himself around me. “I have proof.” He grabs his phone off the bedside table and brings it over. “Matt, let me go. This is bordering on forced, the wrong kind.” I wiggle and almost gag from the dizziness I am still suffering from. “I don’t want to hear it. Your fucking pride is going to be the death of us. I get it, I embarrassed you. I made you feel cheap and like this wasn't important to me, but it is. And it’s important to you too.” He wraps me in a blanket, pinning me to the bed like a mummy, and then goes back to the phone. “Watch.” He taps a video to start. It’s blurry for a moment before I hear myself talking like a drunken sorority girl, “Matt, I don’t want to play this anymore. I gave you those stupid rules so you’d be mine but I wouldn’t be yours, and I could torture you for humiliating me, but I’m done. I just want to be with you. I believe you that the whole thing wasn't your fault and I’m more to you than a puck fuck or a fling.” I cringe and he gives me a knowing glare. “I love you too, Matt. A lot.” I sound trashed. “And if you want this to be over and for this to just be normal dating, I’m cool with it.” “You promise, Sami?” he asks with a bit of a chuckle on his lips, like he’s also drunk, hence the blurry video of the worst quality. “I promise to love you forever.” I stagger forward and the phone drops and the sound of us sloppily kissing fills the audio. “We should get marri—” “Turn it off,” I shout. “You drugged me and made me say this.” “You don’t want to hear the rest?” He laughs shutting it off. He puts the phone away and lies next to me again, smiling softly. “You said you love me and then you said ‘married.’” “So what! You said you loved me first. And you can’t believe anything I say when I’m drunk! One time I tried to kiss Nat’s dad.” “Sami, I don’t care that we were drunk or that you tried to—no, that’s a lie. I do care that you tried to kiss Nat’s dad, that’s creepy. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is what I told you last year at my cabin fever party and what I said last week when I told you I love you. I just want this bullshit punishment to end. Please?” He begs well for a burly hockey player. “What do you want?” It’s the one question I know the answer to, but I want to

hear him say it. “Just a normal relationship. You call me boyfriend and I call you girlfriend and we go out in public without making it a big deal. And I sleep at your house and you sleep at mine, and we text each other stupid messages when we’re apart. And you stop holding back because you’re scared I’m going to break your heart or have a sidepiece. And I stop holding back because you act like you’re going to run any second. And we just relax, both of us. And we trust that the other person is taking care of our hearts.” Maybe it’s the way he says it or the hangover or my want for some sex that doesn’t involve me, myself, and I, or maybe it’s genuinely that I believe him. Whatever it is, I say it, “I forgive you and I will never bring the PFs up again. I trust you.” It’s time. “Finally.” His smile widens and he leans in for a kiss. “No!” I pull back as best I can. “Untuck me.” I struggle in the sheets. “This is creepy and I feel like I’m gonna barf.” “No!” He laughs, turning me and tucking me in more. “Fine, whatever. I’ll puke on you.” I’m so exhausted and nauseated that when he tries to kiss me I fight off a puke shiver and gag a little. “I seriously need to go back to sleep. Can we celebrate this later? With dinner maybe? Tomorrow.” He lifts his eyebrows briefly like he’s disappointed but then gets up from the bed, closing the bathroom door and making it dark in the room for me. “Fine. But if you even talk about going back on this and we have to go back to your stupid rules, I’ll be putting you in the cellar where you will learn your lesson like a good girl.” He chuckles as I struggle from the sheet cocoon. “I don’t care. Just text Nadia and tell her I need an IV.” I curl into a ball, waiting for the instant I feel his warm skin against my cold back. Or death, whichever comes first. It takes a minute for Matt to get to me, but when he does, it’s amazing. I curl into him, letting him cocoon me with him. “I missed you, Beast,” I whisper into the hair on his arm. “I missed you too, baby.” He kisses the side of my face, pressing his naked body against mine. My stomach hurts. My head is pounding. And I can’t actually believe I told him I love him, drunk as fuck. I’m a moron. A blissfully happy moron.

CHAPTER 17

MR. BRIMLEY

A pril 10, 2016

Natalie Playing Panda Pop, waiting for Brady to finish in the shower, a call interrupts my game. “Hello?” I didn't see who was calling. “Hey.” It’s Liz. She sounds weird. “Hey, how’s it going?” “Oh my God, I have the craziest thing to ask you,” she gushes. “Okay?” She just started working for us, so I can’t even imagine what it is. She never gets this excited, ever. It’s one of the things I like about her, even keel. “Will you be one of my bridesmaids?” She starts crying. “What?” My heart stops. “Oh my God.” I have to be hearing her wrong. “Mike asked me to marry him! The little bits of time we’ve been spending apart have been killing him. He asked and I said yes. It was so romantic. We were walking down on the pier and it was sunset, and he got down on his knee and said he couldn't stand to be apart from me, ever again.” “Oh my God!” They’re insane. “So will you be a bridesmaid?” “Yes! Of course I will.” I can’t believe this is happening. So soon? “Congratulations!” “Thank you! He asked my dad and my parents are so excited.” She’s sobbing, like actually sobbing. “I can’t believe I’m getting married. I never thought I would, ever.” I can’t lie, I never imagined she would get married either. “This is amazing.” I don't have anything else to say. It feels crazy, but they are the least insane people I know. “I know. I sent a picture of the ring in our chat. It should be arriving.” My phone vibrates as she says it. I put her on speakerphone and look at the pic. “It’s stunning.” It’s a beautiful white gold ring with a large diamond in the center of two smaller ones. It’s got a twist to the metal, sort of making the smaller diamonds resemble flowers. It suits her completely. “I’m so happy for you.” And stunned, but I won’t say that.

“Me too. This is the best day ever. I can’t believe it. I have to phone my sister and ask if she’ll be my maid of honor. I’ll text you later. I just had to call.” “It’s just amazing. Congrats again.” “Thanks, Nat. I've never been this happy in my life.” She sighs and it’s true. I know it is. She hangs up and I am stunned, completely. I stare at the picture, noticing the twinge of jealousy, something I don't normally feel. She’s so certain and even if she’s not, she trusts this. She trusts him enough to say yes and he trusts their love enough to ask. It’s remarkable and terrifying, and in some strange way, I wish I felt that certain too. “Dude, can you believe Game One of the playoffs is here already.” Brady sighs, stretching his neck and arms as he comes out of the bathroom. “My first one.” He calls me dude and Mike asks Liz to marry him. We’re just not in the same place. I have to remind myself it’s love, not a race. “Yeah, are you excited?” I smile, fighting off the weird feeling that phone call has invoked. “Yes and no. End of season’s scary.” “Liz just phoned. She and Mike are engaged.” I can’t keep this in. Brady’s jaw drops. “What? Holy shit. They've been dating for like a hot minute.” “Right.” “Wow.” He folds his arms, obviously as perplexed by it as I am. “So fast?” “I guess he just knows.” “Did she say yes?” He looks baffled. I feel better about the whole thing. “Yeah. She wants to get married. She’s pumped. I’m stunned.” “Me too.” He cocks his head. “Did you tell her it’s too soon?” “God no! I’m not Sami. She’s excited, so I am too.” “Okay. Good. Mike’s a good guy. He never makes impetuous decisions, and he’s always the voice of reason, so if he’s ready, he’s ready. I just hope this doesn't affect his abilities during playoffs. Not that I think it will. I just don't like the idea of making decisions during playoffs of any kind.” He flops onto the bed next to me in his boxers and climbs under the covers, looking kinda haggard. His scruffy face and bloodshot eyes are only part of the problems he has going on, thanks to the playoffs. His right shoulder is bruised and sore, his left calf has been cramping, and his neck is so tight he winces when he turns his head or glances down. He acts like it’s amazing that he’s doing this but seeing the effects on his body, I don't know what he’s going to look like in a few years or a decade. He’s already a hot mess. But he doesn't want to talk about it. He says it’s normal and the end of the season is hard on everyone. I’ve never seen people fight for anything the way hockey players fight. “Mike’s going to Tampa at the end of the season, did he tell you?” I say as I lean across him, rubbing his chest. “So I guess the wedding will be in Tampa?” “Yeah. Coach wants to have an end-of-season party after the playoffs, and I guess part of it is a going away for the guys leaving.” I have no idea about the wedding, honestly Mike never told me.” He groans into the pillow, “Man, I am

going to sleep the entire month of July. I hope they don't get married then.” “Or May if you don't—” “Whoa!” He turns his head, glaring and cringing from the neck pain. “Dude. No. We don't discuss playoffs.” My cheeks flush and a grin creeps across my lips. “You’re like a bunch of old witches with voodoo dolls with your lucky socks and weird no-shaving rules.” “And we don't talk about it.” He shuts me down. “But you know what we can talk about?” “No.” I narrow my gaze at the steamy look on his face. “Your whole body is a hot mess. Everything’s bruised and beaten and sore and twisted. We’re not having sex. I’m scared I’ll hurt you. You need to be in top shape.” “My dick’s good. Not a scratch on it.” “Your lip’s cut a little and your hands feel like they’re made of leather.” “Your mouth’s fine.” He laughs. “Fuck you, Brady.” I laugh and lay my head back on his chest. “Speaking of things that turn you off, the baby is three months old today. Your brother and Lacey are coming to town soon to watch a game, and I was thinking maybe we should let them have our room and we sleep in the games room. So they have space for the baby.” I draw designs in the hair at the bottom of his stomach leading to his cock. Almost making him think I might go lower, but don't. “Yeah, okay, but you can’t go Zombie Nat on them, gaming the whole time.” He reaches down, pushing my hands lower. “Stop!” I fight him off, continuing to rub his abs. I can’t miss the erection growing beneath the blankets, but I avoid it, touching everywhere else. “Come on, Nat, just touch it.” “No.” I glance up, challenging him with my stare. “Fine.” He shakes his head and reaches down, slipping his hand beneath the blankets and grabbing a huge handful of his own cock. The rubbing motion lifts and lowers the blankets. “You’re disgusting.” I say it but I don't mean it. It’s kinda hot to watch him touching himself, like I shouldn't see this. “I’m going to show you disgusting in about six minutes.” He grins. I roll on my side, lifting my shirt and point at my bare cleavage. “Right here, Mr. Clinton,” I say, calling his bluff. His hands leave his body and attack mine, pulling me on top of him. I straddle him, sitting atop his rigid cock, rotating my hips slightly as his hands cup my breasts. “You’re so soft.” “You’re not.” I run my hands over his hard chest. “There is literally nothing soft about you.” “Not right now.” He thrusts a bit, rubbing against me. As I’m lowering to kiss him his phone rings. He turns his head, wincing at the pain. Brimstone’s name flashes across the screen. “He never calls.” He grabs the phone, wincing again as he swipes to answer, “Hey.”

Matt shouts into the phone, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. My heart stops as I scan the furniture for my phone. It’s buzzing with texts off the dresser Brady’s mom brought us. Before I can even move, Brady rolls us, climbing from the bed in a fluid motion and leaving me on my back. “On my way.” He walks to the closet, his dick going limp as he turns the phone off. “What?” I jump up too. “What’s going on?” “Matt’s brother just died in a fucking plane crash and his dad’s in the ICU in Boston. He wants me to fly there with him now.” “Oh my God.” My hand covers my mouth. “Oh God.” Brady turns, giving me a dark stare. “If his old man dies, Matt won’t play another game of hockey in his life, unless it’s at a rec league on the weekend.” “What do you mean?” “He’ll have to run that company.” He says it like I should have known that. “Oh shit.” My heart is breaking for Matt. I hurry to my phone. My eyes widen as I grasp the desperation in Sami’s texts. “I’m going to Sami’s,” I mutter, sending a text that I’m on my way. Brady grabs me, kissing hard. It’s the kind of kiss that says everything. It’s not romantic, it’s more than that. “I’ll message when I get there. Charles is downstairs now.” He kisses once more and he’s gone. I feel sick for poor Matt as I pull on clothes and hurry out the door, texting Sami that Vincenzo isn’t necessary, but she’s already dispatched him. I wait in the lobby of our building for a few minutes before he pulls up. I don't wait for him to get the door. I run for the limo and jump in. Sami is there, sitting across from me. Her eyes are puffy and her nose is red. “Is Matt okay?” It’s a dumb question but more of a knee-jerk reaction. “I don't know,” she whispers. “I spoke to the hospital. They said his dad’s slipping away. They’re going to attempt surgery, but he said he has to wait for Matt. His dad demanded no surgery until the family lawyer and Matt made it to Boston. They’re going in the helicopter now, from his building.” She sniffles and blinks a tear from her eye. “Did you know him, his brother?” I can’t even remember the brother’s name; I don't understand Sami’s devastation over this. She never gets this worked up. “No. I knew who he was of course and I know his wife a little. But no.” I climb into the seat next to her, pulling her into my arms and letting her cry. She doesn't explain why she’s so upset. She just cries until she doesn't have any more tears as Vincenzo drives us to Boston. When we get to the hospital, Vincenzo parks out front. He opens the door, offering a solemn smile. Sami throws on sunglasses, a hat, and a bulky wrap, hurrying inside. One of the hospital staff rushes to us. “Ms. Ford, I’m Eliza Simmons. The family is this way.” She leads us to an elevator at the back of the main floor and takes us up. Her eyes constantly dart to Sami. When the doors open, she escorts us to a silent wing with a waiting room. “If you don't mind waiting, I’ll tell Mr. Brimley you’re here.” She closes the door, sealing us in.

“What is this room?” “I think it’s where they tell you your family is dead.” Sami pulls off her glasses, revealing exactly how puffy she is. “Were you with him when he found out?” “No.” She sits, crossing her legs and flicking her foot like she’s annoyed. “I was home with Nadia.” A bitter smile crosses her lips but I have no idea why. “My mom told me and I called Benson and had it confirmed.” She laughs like it’s something insane or this is ironic somehow. “I texted Matt but he hasn't messaged back.” Her lip trembles. “Why?” Sometimes I hate Matt. “I don't know.” She lifts her gaze to meet mine, her eyes are hollow like she’s dead behind them. “I think it’s likely his mom wouldn't want me here and Matt knows that so he didn't bother to call me.” “She doesn't even know you. And he never listens to what his parents say.” My back gets up. “Yeah, but his dad’s in there dying, bringing me would only be more drama. I get it. I just wish—” She pauses. “I wish things were different. For the first time ever, I wish I had your life. All of it. Just simple, plain, easy. The worst thing in your world is your mother, and she’s nothing. If I were you I would be living in an apartment with Matt and we would be allowed to choose everything in our lives.” “You can.” I say it like she’s being stupid because she is. “You know that’s not true.” She scoffs. “Everything is a dance and a balance. It’s us hiding in this room because I want to see him, but I don't want to make things worse for his family. It’s him pretending to give half a shit about his dad’s business to impress my dad.” “You could walk away from it all.” “I might have to.” She swallows hard. She doesn't say anything else and I’m tired of rich people and their fucked views on life. So we sit in silence, staring and waiting. After an hour I text Brady, but he doesn't respond. After another hour, I call but it goes directly to voicemail so I leave a message. “We’re here, in Boston, in some room at the hospital. Can you try to shoot me an update? We’re concerned.” He doesn't call back or text. Forty minutes later the door opens, and a man in scrubs comes in. He offers us a sympathetic smile. “Hi. I’m Brad, one of the nurses. The Brimleys—Mr. Brimley— asked me to come and update you. His father has passed.” He struggles with the words, “He didn't make it through surgery which we didn't anticipate he would. His injuries were—anyway, I wanted to make sure someone came and talked with you. I don't think anyone will be coming down to the grieving room. Mr. Brimley won’t leave his father’s side and his mother has been sedated.” “Is Brady there?” I ask, not sure what else to say. “Yes. He’s with Mr. Brimley, not leaving his side.” “You’re trying to be nice about telling us that we’re not wanted here?” Sami snaps. “I am so sorry—”

“It’s fine.” Sami gets up and walks to the door, texting Vincenzo to bring the car around. She’s angry which makes sense. When we get to the car she keeps her sunglasses on, silent tears leak down her cheeks. She doesn't speak, so I don't. I sit beside her, snuggling her the whole way home.

CHAPTER 18

LONDON

D ecember 24, 2015

Sami The picture Brady sent me of the Tiffany’s box with the key in it is conflicting for me. While I think Brady and Nat might be a match made by God, and me, I think moving in so quickly is kind of irrational, even if it is romantic. But then again, Nat needed this. I brush my finger across the photo, almost smiling. I have to remember to act surprised when Nat tells me. “What has you grinning like that?” Mom asks over her midday martini. I agreed to have brunch with her when I arrived in London, but I was too tired yesterday. I was supposed to go to Matt’s when I arrived, but I chose my place to throw off the suspicions of my parents who were both here already. “Natalie. She’s moving in with Brady.” Answering truthfully is always to provoke her. “Wow! Isn’t that the boy she just met? The one you introduced her to a couple of months ago?” A smattering of judgment lingers below the soft smile. “Yes. They met in August. But when it’s right it’s right, I suppose.” “That is the truth.” Her eyes flash with something I don't know, a memory perhaps. “Speaking of that, what’s happening with you and the Brimley boy?” Her cheeks flush as she finishes the drink and waves a hand. Nadia takes her glass. “Nothing. We’re friends.” This is the first time this statement leaves my lips as a lie. We’re so much more than friends. I have never felt this kind of love before, ever. It’s terrifying and yet everything. “With benefits?” My mother says a statement I never imagined she would. “No.” A sly grin crosses my lips. “I gave up benefits for Lent last year.” It’s almost the truth. “Really?” Her steely eyes narrow. “Not even a tennis coach or a yoga instructor?” She can’t help but ask me about the only men in her life. “No, Mother. Jesus.” I exhale calmly, trying not to sound annoyed. Nadia brings a new martini to Mom and goes back to the side of the room. “You know, your father is going to want you to start thinking about marriage.” “I’m not interested in being married.”

She laughs at me. “Then you need to come up with a new identity. We’re all commodities in this world. What kind of commodity are you? How will you make money?” “I’m a person for God’s sake.” I laugh back, astonished and unable to find this amusing. “Sami, if you honestly don't want him to make some ridiculous match where you spend Christmas Eve waiting for him to come back from his second home, then I suggest you recreate yourself, my dear.” Her candor isn’t entirely new but it’s surprising. “I’ve seen how that Brimley boy looks at you.” Her sneaky grin creeps back across her lips. “He likes you, a lot.” “It’s not like that. He’s just a friend.” It’s the biggest lie of the morning. He’s a friend because I kept him there, at bay, held against his will. Until now. “His father is quite successful and his mother has very good lineage. If Matthew were to impress upon your father that he has intentions to be something other than a hockey player, I think he would see him as an option for you.” She finishes her next martini too fast, holding the glass out for Nadia. “And not that Palfrey boy.” “It doesn't matter, Mom. I’m not getting married right now, not to Matt or anyone else. Dad can suck it.” That makes her giggle. She’s drunk and funny to see so loose. I take advantage of the moment of silence and change the subject to something I’ve always wanted to know, “Can I ask you something serious?” I take a sip of wine, purely to muster bravery—no, realism. I’m brave, although never real and this is the realest we have been in a long time. “Of course, darling.” She leans back on the wide sofa, getting comfortable, which doesn't look comfortable. She never does. She’s proper. You can’t be both. “Were you and Dad ever in love?” I don't remember a time when I would say they loved each other. “Of—” She stops, swallowing the lie she was about to say. “No. He was in love with a girl from Britain, one his father would never agree to. They met at Cambridge during your father’s year abroad here. She was—is the love of his life.” My mom’s eyes gloss over with the harshness of her words, “I never ask if her kids are his. I never ask where he’s been or if he saw her. It was never a surprise for me that even after we married they rekindled their affair. He’s never rubbed it in my face, which is kind.” “Why—no, how? How can you live like this?” I’m disgusted but not surprised in the least that I might have siblings in other places from other women. “It was the marriage my parents wanted. We got together when I was young. I didn't have a job or a means to make money. I had to bring my inheritance and trust fund with me into the marriage. That was my way of being a commodity.” She feigns indifference like a professional. “And that is what you want for me?” The words are so hard to speak my eyes almost water. “No.” She lifts her eyebrows but doesn't meet my gaze. “God no.” A real smile crests her lips. “Your father and I have been pushing you so hard because we don't

want you to end up like us.” She offers me a look that suggests she might have really seen me for who I am, maybe all along. “I see the way that Brimley boy looks at you. And the way you look at him—” “Mom!” “And I just want you to know, I’ve seen that look before. It’s the one. The one every girl wishes to see. If it’s real, Sami, don't ruin it. Find a way to make it fit.” She chuckles bitterly. “We don't marry down in this family.” She sighs and shakes off the feelings I’ve accidentally forced on her. “Now it's time for my nap. Will you be here for dinner?” “No.” I crack a heartbroken grin. “I’m seeing Matt.” It feels good to tell her the truth. “He’s here?” “Yeah.” “Good.” She gets up and saunters from the room, clearly drunk. My heart aches for her, but at the same time I don't pity them as much as I could. They chose a loveless life over money. My mother was Natalie and my father was William the Douche. And my dad has never changed. The fact I interfered and helped ruin Nat’s relationship and introduced her to Brady is even more justified. There’s no way I could have sat by and let her become Mrs. Fairfield, or my mother. She and Brady moving in together is the right choice. It was right and it will always be right. They match. And the choice I’ve made for my future is going to ensure I will never spend Christmas Eve waiting for my husband to come home from his mistress’ house. I won’t ever wonder if he has kids with someone else. Because I won’t ever be marrying someone I don't love with all my heart. My phone buzzes, as if on cue, with a message from Matt. Answer the door, dress warm. I get up, hurrying to my room to throw on my warmest jacket and hat. I can’t believe the last hour and the intensity of my conversation. Seeing Matt is exactly what I need. As I walk up to the door, our butler offers me a sly smile. “I’m assuming the door is for you, miss.” “I think it is. See you later.” I wave and rush out, expecting to leap into his huge arms but instead Charles is there. “Miss Ford.” He nods. “Er—Charles. How are you?” “I’m well, miss. Mr. Brimley is expecting you.” He pushes the elevator button. “Where is he?” I climb into the elevator behind him. “Being ridiculous, actually. But don't tell him I said that.” He pushes the main floor button and stands very still. “Ridiculous?” I’m nervous now. “Very.” He holds an arm out for me to leave when the doors open. “He’s here.” He opens the main doors to reveal a sports car sitting up front. Charles gets the

door for me. “Get in the car.” Matt grins at me from the driver’s seat. “You’re driving?” The idea of either of us behind the wheel isn’t appealing. “Why aren’t you driving?” I scowl at Charles. “He insists I remain behind.” “I’m a great driver.” He gives me that smirk, the one that melts me and pisses me off. “It’s better than the limo.” “Good luck, miss.” Charles leaves me there with Matt at the wheel of a beautiful Jaguar. “Don't bring up the limo.” I point at Matt. “Fine, get in!” His eyes widen. Without arguing, I climb in, unsure of where we’re going. A countryside drive on the wrong side of the road on Christmas Eve sounds terrifying. “You really think this is a good idea?” I buckle up and almost offer a small prayer. “Yes. I’ve driven here before.” He chuckles and leans in, kissing my cheek, inhaling me. I close my eyes and savor the feel of him, especially after the weird afternoon I’ve just spent. “You ready?” he whispers in my ear as he kisses my cheek. I want to say no, but I also don't want to hurt his feelings. So I say nothing. He pulls away from the curb, turning left and jerking the car as he hits the sidewalk. My fingers grip the seat as he makes his way into traffic. I try closing my eyes but the feel of him hitting things and jerking to stops isn’t improved by not looking. We don't speak. He’s concentrating on not curbing the car and I’m trying to breathe. When we merge onto the freeway out of London, I exhale, possibly for the first time. “Where are we going?” I finally ask. He doesn’t answer, he smirks again. It’s annoying. After an hour, he leaves the highway, driving on a tiny road. There’s one lane and a sixty mile an hour speed limit, with hedges so high on either side of the car you can’t see over them. It’s like being in a maze, in a car. My fingers ache from digging into the leather seats. When he finally pulls onto a bigger road I calm down again. I can’t believe we didn't hit another vehicle or come upon someone on a bike. The roads here are insane. We drive through the country for a while, passing estates and farms and beautiful scenery. Finally, he makes another turn at some signage and enters a parking lot next to a large building. There are no cars but ours. When I glance over, confused, his grin gets even smugger. He gets out, getting my door and offering me his hand. I want to refuse it, but I climb out, curious to discover what has him grinning this way. He hauls me into his embrace, hugging and smelling me.

Snow is softly falling around us, making the tiny noise it does, seeming to crackle or whisper to the ground. “I missed you.” He kisses my cheek, tilting my face. “Why didn't you come to my place when you flew in yesterday?” “I was bagged. I needed my bed. The jet lag hits me hard. I was asleep at eight last night and then awake at five. I hate the first night.” “Me too, but I was sort of hoping we could battle it together.” He lowers his face to mine, gently brushing against my lips. He doesn't kiss like he means it. It's polite kissing for the English countryside maybe. He links my arm in his and walks to the building. There’s a courtyard with picnic benches and maps of the gardens around us, some place called Stourhead. It sounds familiar but I can’t remember why. We walk in the snow through a gate to a house and then a small courtyard. A woman greets him warmly as if she knows him. “Welcome back, Mr. Brimley.” Back? He’s been here before? “The park is all yours.” Her smile is affectionate in a grandmotherly sort of way. “Thanks, Agnes.” He leads me down a path and through a gate. “Is this a nature walk?” I grumble, hating nature and walking. Surely he knows this. It’s goes from a possible nature walk to a full-on hike as we head into the forest. I’m about to complain when I catch a glimpse of something I think I recall. As we crest a hill he doesn't speak. He doesn't have to. “Is that—?” I try to choke out. “Is this the garden from Pride and Prejudice?” There’s a small lake and a bridge, an arched footbridge across the pond. The water is so still that I can see the perfect reflection of the footbridge in it. I can almost see Elizabeth Bennet running across it in the rain. I gasp as he spins us to a hill and points above me to the very spot Mr. Darcy declared his love for Elizabeth Bennet. “It’s the Temple of Apollo.” “You brought me to the rain scene where he confesses he loves her?” “Merry Christmas, Sami.” He squeezes my hand and strolls toward the trail that takes us up. I don't know what to say. There are no words for this moment. Except maybe magical. The hike up changes the magical feelings inside me for about eight minutes. But when we reach the top, even through the gasping for air and cramp in my foot, I’m speechless. The Temple of Apollo is beautiful. The pillars where Elizabeth stood and leaned her back, hiding from the rain are right here, in front of my face. I leave him behind, hurrying to the stairs and rushing them, expecting majesty inside, but what I find is so much more romantic. The inside of the temple is old, ancient looking. It’s weathered and cracked. The ceiling is domed and chipped but I don't care. I take a turn about the circular space, wondering what it was like to witness this scene live, watching Mr. Darcy confess his love. When I get back outside, I walk to where she did, right to where the scene was.

“This is the best Christmas gift anyone has ever given me, including the gifts from Nat,” I mutter to him and the falling snow and the silence I don't think I have ever heard before. When I turn he’s there, too close and too big and I feel like her. Her lifts a ring, no box, no wrapping. It sparkles in the faded light of the later afternoon. My chest seizes and my stomach cramps, but I know the second he utters those words I’m going to say yes. I love him. His eyes are full of emotions, the kind where you aren’t sure if the person is angry or if their eyes are just so intense that they almost frighten you “This isn’t a real ring.” He says exactly the opposite of the thing I might have wanted him to. “It’s a fake stone,” he says too quickly. “What?” I’m lost. “It’s more than an engagement ring and less. I’m not going to ask you to marry me, not right now. But I want to ask you to think about that. Think about us being married and being together all the time and living together. I want you to promise me that you’re going to think about what if. What if we just chose each other and forgot everything else?” I swallow hard, I think he joins me in that. “My entire life I’ve worried that my dreams aren’t big enough for my family. They aren’t, which is crazy. Every other American family would jump for joy that their son was playing in the NHL—” “Not mine.” “No, yours and mine are the exceptions to that.” His fingers tremble slightly. “I hate feeling like I’m not enough for them. But I love being enough for you. I love that you just see me. That you understand my love of the game. But—” he pauses, “I want us both to do two things before we consider marriage or living together. I told you when I accepted your deal that we would begin again here, in England. We would start a new relationship, shedding the dead weight of the other one.” “We have.” “I know. And the two things we need to do before we can really move forward are firstly, redefine ourselves, become something worthy of our parents and their demands. We can’t stop being who we are, that's not an option. But we can make who we are fit into their world. And secondly, I want us to both move out of our houses, living on our own so if one of us isn’t enough for the other parents, it doesn't matter. We don't need them. I don't want to need them. I just want you.” Those last words seal it for me. I lift my hand to his, holding my finger for him to put the ring on. He grabs the right hand, instead of the left. “Let's use this hand. When I put a ring on the left hand, I want you to be able to separate those moments.” “This one’s pretty fucking awesome.” I blink a tear from my eyes, wiping it away quickly. “I love you, Sami Ford.” He says it like it might be the most important detail in his world. He’s mine.

CHAPTER 19

NEANDERTHALS AND SHIT

A pril 11, 2016

Natalie Brady staggers through the door in the middle of the night, drunk as fuck, and starts eating leftover pizza from the fridge as if nothing’s wrong. His eyes are puffy and his nose is red. He sniffles and opens the fridge, clearly missing the fact I’m sitting on the sofa in the dark, annoyed. I hate that I’m pissed but it’s been hours with nothing. No call. No text. No fuck you, nothing. He hasn't told me he’s safe or back in New York. But I can’t be that girlfriend. Matt’s lost half his family and technically Brady’s the other half. Matt needed him. Matt who I’m trying so hard not to hate. But I can’t help it. He didn't even want her there to console him or care for him. He didn't even care that she came all that way. His father, who he hated, died, and he couldn't even let her help him grieve. I can’t imagine Brady not wanting me there or not even calling, just once. These words have wrestled in my brain for hours, keeping me awake. I don't even have a response for this shit. And then for Brady to not bother calling, I’m done with the both of them. But I can’t be that girlfriend. So I sit in the dark, watching him, waiting to find a single redeemable trait. He wipes his nose with his hand and then wipes his hand on his pants. He chews too loud and cracks a beer, as if he needs more, guzzling and burping. I grimace, wishing I’d missed it all, until he puts the beer down and starts crying. It's sudden and not what I expect. He slinks down to the floor, still sniffling and chewing. I get up, hurrying to him. We don't speak. I wrap myself around him, letting him be sad. He drops the pizza to the floor, pulling me to him. His body tightens as silent sobs leave him. He grips me, crying until he finally calms again. Then he takes deep breaths like he wants to speak but he doesn't know how.

Brady doesn't cry. Brady doesn't ever cry. He’s probably in pain from years of pent-up tears. The only ones his brother has ever seen him cry were when he scored his first goal in the NHL and he gave his mom the puck. But that was a tiny cry compared to this. This is something else. “Do you wanna go to the bed?” I mutter, stroking his hair. “Yeah,” he groans, sniffling and wiping his face. His eyes don't meet mine, and I hope it’s not that he’s embarrassed about crying in front of me. I cry in front of him all the time. I get up, trying to help him but he weighs a ton. Finally, he helps himself and stands up, swaying a little. Leading him to the bed isn’t easy but when I get him there, he sort of flops so I have to roll him until he gets to a spot that's close enough. He lays on his back, staring at the ceiling and not moving. I pull his shoes and pants off and climb on the bed, dragging his hoodie and tee shirt off. I fold his side of the blankets over him, strip down, and climb in on my side, snuggling up to him and resting in the crook of his arm. I place a soft kiss on his cheek. Within seconds he’s sleeping. It’s the weirdest night we’ve ever had. I fall asleep lying on him and hoping Matt’s okay. When I wake, Brady’s gone. I blink in the little bit of daylight filtering in and check my phone. There’s a text from him and Sami. His says Matt needed him and he’ll call me in a bit. Sami’s asks if Brady made it home. My heart aches but I force myself to call her. “Hey?” she answers too quickly. “Hey. Yeah, Brady came home in the middle of the night, drunk as hell. He was a hot mess. I put him to bed and he was gone before I woke up.” “Matt hasn't called at all. Not once.” Her voice sounds funny, strained. “Then he’s kind of an asshole. I’m sorry, I get it. His dad and brother just died, but he talks about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, and yet can’t even check in? Can’t even tell you he’s safe or that he’s fucking sad? It’s bullshit, Sami.” I wish I hadn’t said it, but I needed to. “Oh thank God. I’m not being needy?” She sighs and breathes heavily. “No. He gave you a promise ring and then the first challenge in your lives hits and he’s not letting you be part of it? That's fucked. This is a weird William thing to do. I don't like it.” “Me either.” She sounds better. “But I can’t call him. He’s with his family and shit’s hitting the fan, you know it is. His mom is a mess, for sure. She’s demanding all his time and that he take care of everything, I bet you. Meanwhile, I could help. I could actually organize a lot of these things that need taking care of. Not only do I know every good event planner, but I’m detached from the whole thing.” She sighs. “But he doesn't need me or he would ask.”

“Maybe—” “Don't.” She cuts me off. “Don't do that. I did that to you with William, always playing the devil’s advocate and all it did was make you think I liked him. I was trying to stop you from hurting and I made him seem like he wasn't shit.” “For the record, I don't think Matt’s shit. I just think he’s not the best. Not that Brady’s better but—” “He is. He might be a Neanderthal in some ways, but he’s loyal. Look at him this morning. They have a game in two days, and he’s been getting drunk and helping as much as he can. He isn’t saying anything, he’s just there.” “I guess.” I wish Matt were better for her than he seems to be. “Speaking of being there for someone, I have something to tell you. I need you.” She sounds funny again. “Can you come over?” “Yeah. I’ll be right there.” I hang up and get dressed, even more worried now.

CHAPTER 20

THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING

A pril 10, 2016

Sami Swirling my fork in the plate, dragging the egg yolk into the syrup and making a design, I’m overcome again with the sour taste in my mouth. The subtle nausea is worse than getting sick. At least then it’s over. Not this dragging it out nonsense. I shudder and push the plate away. Nadia scoops it up. “Waffles are your favorite. Try a couple of bites. Can I get you some fruit?” “No. This stomach thing’s driving me nuts. I’m not hungry, at all.” I pause. “Actually, can I have a PB and J with butter on sourdough?” “Another one?” She winces. “It’s the only thing you’ve eaten for days.” “Just get it,” I growl. “Fine!” she snaps back. She’s grown some serious lady balls this last year. I actually like her better this way. She’s kinda mean back. It's healthier. A couple of minutes later she slaps a box and a plate down. “Here!” “Pregnancy test?” I scoff. “I’m on the pill.” I roll my eyes. “There’s no way.” “You were traveling and busy and stressed, and you should have had your period a week ago. I think you should check.” She points at the terrifying little blue box. “I bought this the other day when you started to feel sick. It’s always in the mornings and you feel better by the afternoon.” “There’s no way.” “Did you have a period last month? I don't think you did.” “What?” I grab my phone, frantically checking to see when the last period was. My fingers tremble as I scroll the calendar, gasping when I see that I didn't mark one down in March and the one in February was at the beginning of the month. “See!” “Shit!” Shivers cover my body. “You need to test it.” “It’s the stress.” I shudder as a wave of something bad hits me. I jump up, leaving the box behind and running for the bathroom. When I fling open the bathroom door, the unending nausea is crushed by the heaving and puking taking over my body.

The box slides across the floor to me as I wipe my mouth and groan. “It’s not that,” I shout at her through the door as she closes it. “Then check, just to be sure,” she shouts back. “Fine!” I grab the box and sit on the toilet, ripping the cardboard open and snapping the lid off. It takes a second to get the pee to come out, but when I’ve coated it in urine, I push the lid on and leave it in the sink. I haven’t puked since December. My stomach hurts and my mouth is sour. I put off finishing up and wash my hands in the other sink, refusing to check the pee stick. There’s no way I’m pregnant. There’s no way. I’ve slipped up on pills before and nothing happened. There’s no way. I glance at myself in the mirror, scared that the haggard-looking face is lying to itself. Deciding to check and not be a pussy, I turn and walk to it, almost closing my eyes. When I lift the stick, I have to focus and then grab the box because I don't actually know how to read it. After a moment of staring, I drop the stick, spinning to the door. “Do you have another one of these tests? This one’s broken.” “What does it say?” “JUST GET ME ANOTHER ONE!” I scream. The door opens and another box falls in and the door slams. “Fuck!” I grab the box, ripping it open. I sit back on the toilet and wait. I don't have to pee, but I force it for so long a small trickle comes out. I manage to land a little on the stick and snap the lid back on. This one I stare at, terrified. The little line, the second line, comes instantly. I slump and reach for my phone, not even caring that my hands are holding a piss stick. I phone Linda, but I hang up and call Nat and hang up before she can answer. Then I press Matt’s number but then I hang up again. I call Carson, pacing the bathroom. “What’s got you up so early?” He yawns into the phone. “It’s eleven, Carson!” I snap. “Stop yelling,” he groans, obviously hungover. “What would you do if a girl you really liked and possibly wanted to marry was having a baby, your baby?” “Asking for a friend?” He chuckles. “No, dick, I’m late.” This is impossible. “Oh Christ, Sami. You get that taken care of quietly and don't tell a soul. You cry on the inside like a winner and move on. Jesus.” “Carson!” I can’t believe his first thought is abortion. “Honestly, that's what you’d expect a girl to do? Even if you really liked her?” “He’s just started with the NHL. His dad has him double-timing at work to learn the business a little to impress your dad and his. He spends what little time he can with you. It’s been a brutal fucking six months. I would know, I never see the guy.

And when I do, he’s always tired. You really think having a baby right now while you two aren’t married is the best plan?” He yawns. “You would both be disowned.” “I can’t do it.” I close my eyes and slump back on the toilet. “I thought I was pregnant one time, a long time ago. And I thought about abortion and I can’t do it. I’m not some rape victim from a third world country or a poor girl with no money. I’m not some high school student or a kid. My dad or creepy uncle didn't get me pregnant. I’m an adult who got pregnant with a guy she loves and can afford to raise this kid, even if it means I get disowned and only get my trust fund. I could live a normal life, just no Fifth Avenue. I already own two houses and I’m buying the third this week.” “Then I guess you better come up with an adult answer that sounds like clan but starts with P. Ask Nat what she would do. She’s smarter than both of us put together.” He clears this throat. “Speaking of Nat, did I mention that Will has been stalking her?” He chuckles a little. “No. What?” “He’s been asking around about her, says he misses her and he’s a changed man. He loves her and wants to win her back.” “Oh good God, keep him away. She doesn't need to break up with the one good guy she’s ever dated so she can go back to the Douche.” “Oh, I’ve been covering. I think a lot of this is that his family is incredibly disappointed in him. Rich and I were at dinner the other night and he said he let it slip to his mom how Nat and Will broke up. She was less than pleased he was so disrespectful. And now since Nat’s made something of herself, she’s even more sought after.” “You and Rich?” It’s really the only part of the story I care about. Nat is never getting back together with Will. I’ll keep her in Matt’s cellar before I allow that. “Well, we became closer last summer during Operation Sabotage Will the Douche. I was with him when he made the decision to tell you.” My jaw drops. “You and Rich?” “Stop! It’s nothing. We’re just friends.” He’s smiling way too hard. “Oh my God, that is adorable. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit, I didn't even notice. I’m sorry.” I feel bad but the fact I’m pregnant is a bit overwhelming. “I’m stealing the spotlight from something wonderful.” “It’s nothing. Don't jinx it. I don't want to talk about it. Call me when you make a decision.” He hangs up before I can grill him more. I shiver from the cold floor and cold water I wash my hands with as I avoid seeing myself in the mirror. I throw out the pee sticks and grab my phone. When I open the door, Nadia offers me a sad smile. “Congratulations.” It comes out as more of a question. Tears flood my eyes when I see hers. “Thanks. Can you throw those out? I don't want anyone to see.” She nods and hurries into the bathroom to tidy up. When I get back to the kitchen, I sit and start eating my sandwich. I’m not hungry but the whole thing makes me feel better.

“Sami!” My mother rushes in. “Did you hear?” She appears flustered. “What?” I can’t possibly guess what has her this worked up. “The Brimleys have had a terrible accident. They’ve crashed and people on board the jet are dead. I don't know who was on board. It’s awful. Where’s your Matt?” “Home!” I panic and call his apartment. “Brimley residence.” “Benson, is it true?” I don't greet him or anything. “Yes, Miss Ford. I’m sorry but it is.” “Is he safe?” “Yes, he’s here. He’s about to leave for Boston now. His father’s being taken to the hospital there. He’s walking out the door now as we speak to get the helicopter on the roof.” “Okay. I’ll call him in a bit.” I hang up and send a quick text to Matt telling him that if he needs me I’m here. But he doesn't respond. “Well?” She’s still exasperated. “Yeah, Matt’s okay.” I sigh, not feeling at all better. “This is a disaster.” My mother slumps into the chair next to me. “I don't even know what to say.” Thankfully, she doesn't say anything else. We sit in silence and I try not to cry.

CHAPTER 21

I’M PREGNANT

A pril 11, 2016

Natalie She sits across from me, scowling and lost in the pattern on her white bedspread. “What is it?” I ask again, hoping she kills the suspense and just tells me. “I have a problem.” She swallows. “And I don't know what to do.” “Holy shit, Sami. What’s the problem?” I can’t even guess what could be this dire. “I’m pregnant.” She drops the biggest bomb of our lives. Matt’s dad dying is nothing compared to my shock of this. It takes me a minute to say anything but when I do, I regret it immediately. “Matt’s?” I blurt, hating that I’ve asked, but the timing stuns me, that and the bad luck. “Of course.” She’s offended, not that I blame her. “Holy shit.” My whole body gets cold and numb all at once. “Pregnant?” The word feels like poison on my lips. “Yeah.” Her eyes flicker from me to the bed again. “Major holy shit.” “When did you find out?” “Yesterday, right before—” She doesn't add the last part, she doesn't have to. “Oh God.” “Yeah.” She wipes away a silent tear. “I’m so sorry.” I bite my lip. I don't know what else to say. She leans in, pressing her body into mine and forcing a hug. I wrap around her, closing my eyes and wondering how the hell this could possibly be happening. “What are you going to do?” “Why does everyone think there are options?” she mutters and sits up. “Sami, it's your body—” “Have it. I can’t kill a healthy baby for no reason. It might ruin my life, but it might not.” She blinks another tear out. “Shit.” I blink a tear out too and realize I’m crying. “What would you do if it were you and Brady?” “Have it.” The question isn’t even debatable for me.

“Exactly.” She says it flatly. “How are you going to tell him? His dad—” “I’m not.” She shakes her head. “Babies in new moms don't always make it past the first three months. So I’ll wait. His family doesn't need to know. His dad’s dead. His brother’s dead. His mom’s a mess. My mom said they’ve had her sedated since it happened. They brought her home from Boston in the helicopter and she was unconscious and had doctors with her. So there’s no reason to tell him or his family. They have enough on their plate.” “Has he even texted you?” I kinda hate him right now. “No.” The word comes out of her lips like she’s lost some hope. “I don't want to be that girl. The one who’s needy and demanding. His family’s in crisis. I don't understand why he doesn't want me to be with him.” Another silent tear trickles down her cheek. “I’d want him. I wouldn't want anyone but him.” She blinks and they flood her face. “Except you.” “I have go to the bathroom.” I should hug her, she’s sobbing, but I can’t. I need to know what the hell is going on. I get up from the bed and pull my phone out and call Brady as I close the door. “Hey, babe. I said I’d call you when I could,” he answers rudely. “How’s Matt?” I whisper, savagely. “Rough. How do you think?” “Where are you guys?” I don't want to hear his bullshit. “His place. Why?” Brady’s losing patience with me. “Because he hasn't called Sami once, and I think it’s weird he doesn’t want the girl he loves the most in the whole world to be by his side while he grieves and suffers. Who would you call if your mom died?” I snap back at him. “Probably my brother, Natalie. It’s a family thing and you’re not my fam—” He stops what he’s saying but it’s too late. “You know what I mean. Like you’re just my girl—it’s not the same thing. His dad and brother are gone and his mom’s a mess. His dad’s family is arriving all day, to come and help out. This place is a zoo. I didn't mean—” I click the phone off and stare at it, wondering if that actually just happened. I don't even know what to say or how to explain to her that we’re just girlfriends. We’re just hockey wives. We’re just girls. We’re a step up from puck buddies, we’re bed buddies and roommates but not part of the family. We’re good enough to fuck but not important enough to be with when tragedy strikes. Swallowing my ugly feelings, I realize I have to leave the bathroom. I need a plan. I need to cheer her up. I need to distract her, and myself. Taking a breath, I leave the bathroom, giving her a smile. All I can do is hope it’s better than her fake one, while I come up with an idea. “Hey, so I was thinking, if you’re going to have a kid, maybe you should consider a beach house somewhere closer to the city. Somewhere you could have the baby and be safe and quiet and alone. And then maybe if you’re already decorating, you could consider a nursery or something. Like later down the road.” I say all the things I might want to hear at a time like this. She needs to be supported and comforted. “Closer to the city?” she asks, appearing confused as she wipes her face. “Not in

France for celebrities to rent?” She sort of laughs but there’s no joy in the sound she makes. “No. More like Hamptons where you can picture your kid running on the beach and playing.” She grabs her phone and taps the screen and then holds the phone out. “Hello, my lovely girl,” Maxine answers, sounding giddy for a moment and then it changes to concerned. “Sami, are you all right?” “I’m fine. Can you find us houses in the Hamptons to buy for the beach house? I want to think young family for this one, something I could grow into, not party at. I want six listings and no friggin’ log homes.” “Okay, dear.” She laughs. “No log homes! I’ll have a list set up for you to see tomorrow. We’re running out of time. A car will pick you up at eight. Be ready.” “Okay.” She clicks the phone off. “You’re right. The people would be more inspired by us being real. And girls get pregnant. Even people in our generation.” She curls up, hugging her knees. She has never looked more altered in our entire friendship. “We have to tell your mom though. She needs to know. You need an ally. And we need to figure out what to do. Like doctors and shit.” She cringes. “I know. I’m gonna need her to help me smooth this over with my dad.” “Do you want me to go get her now?” “No.” She shakes her head but the headshakes turn to nods. “Yeah.” “Okay.” I hurry from the room, heading straight for her mom’s bedroom. She’s napping, she’s always napping. She runs a tight sleep schedule. Nadia meets me in the hallway, carrying fresh linens. “Is something wrong?” “I need Sami’s mom. Can you get her and tell her Sami needs her?” “Is she all right?” Her eyes widen. “Yeah, she’s gonna tell her.” I lift my eyebrows, trying to give her a signal of exactly what it is. “Oh.” Her surprised look turns serious. “I’ll get her.” I wait in the hall. I need to smooth things over before Mrs. Ford goes in the room, prepare her so to speak. Nadia reappears after a couple of moments. “She’s coming.” She hurries down the stairs, leaving me to wait alone. It takes more like ten minutes for her mom to leave the room, yawning and stretching. She straightens when she sees me. “Natalie?” “I need to ask you a favor.” This is so awkward. “Anything, dear, you know that.” “Sami’s got something to tell you. Can you promise that you’ll be patient?” Fear creeps across her almost frozen face. “Possibly. What is it?” “She should tell you herself. I’ll wait in the hall.” She swallows like there’s a lump in her throat, but she walks to the room, leaving me to sit back on the chaise lounge and wait.

CHAPTER 22

MOMMY DEAREST

A pril 11, 2016

Sami The sickness is back, taunting me with false nausea, but I can’t move. My mother opens the door, giving me a worried smile. “You needed to see me?” She sounds soft, like how moms should sound. “I’m pregnant.” I just say it. I don't know how to beat around this bush. I want to tear the bush out of the ground and stomp on it, but that's not an option. She freezes, swallowing hard and grimacing. She blinks once, her eyes get glossy, and she sighs. “Okay.” She starts walking again. Tears, the same assholes I’ve been weeping for two days, creep into my eyes again. I blink them down my cheeks as she sits on my bed. “My sweet girl.” She wipes them away. “Matt Brimley?” she asks because of course everyone has to make me feel like I’m that girl. I was that girl once so I don't take offense. “Yeah.” “And his father—” She stops herself, pausing and thinking. “When did you fig —?” “Yesterday. It was Nadia. She noticed I didn't have a period last month and I’m late. And we did two tests.” “Of course.” She lowers her gaze. “What do you want to—?” “Please don't ask that. There’s one option: have this baby. I can’t imagine a different route.” She reaches for me, her hand trembling as she places it on my stomach. She smiles a little. “Okay. I’m glad.” The warmth of her fingers through my tee shirt makes me shiver. “I used to touch my belly like this when I was pregnant with you.” She sniffles and glances down. “You asked me if your father and I have ever loved each other, and I said no. But that was a lie.” She closes her eyes and pauses. “When I looked at you for the first time, I loved him. And I know he felt the same. You’re our love, Sami. You’re proof of that. And this baby will have it even better. Matt and you love each other. It’s obvious to the blind. His dad just died, but you’ll work this out.” “I don't think I’m going to tell him.” I say it like a question because I want her

opinion of that. “His family, and the chaos. I don't think it’s a good time.” “That’s an understatement.” She snorts. “But babies never come when you want them to, they come when they should. And there is nothing to be done now, there’s a baby in here. Waiting will only make him feel left out and angry. You should tell him.” “Okay,” I agree but I have no intention of telling him until he’s done with the obligations of the deaths. “Has he called you?” She lifts her gaze to mine. Her eyes are dazzling with tears in them. I don't know if they’re good tears or bad, but she’s being amazingly supportive. I didn't expect this from her, but I need it. “No. He hasn't called or texted.” “Are you fighting?” “No. He just pushed me away when they died. He wants to be alone, I guess. I don't know.” “Okay.” A worried scowl crosses her brow. “Well, let's get the doctors involved and ensure everything is healthy and then we’ll worry about the Brimleys.” She says “we” and for the first time in a long time, I feel like she’s my we. She and Nat and Dad are my we, and even though I’m alone, I’m not alone in this. “Thanks, Mom,” my voice cracks. “For what?” “Being cool.” I blink more tears. “Sami, you’re my child. The only one I will ever have. All I want is for you to be happy and—” She wants to add successful but she doesn't. “And you’ve truly proven yourself this year, you’ve matured a lot. If this was last year, I think I might have freaked out a bit, but this year you've proven what kind of person you are. You’ve shown your drive, intelligence, passion, and now you will show the world what a fashionable, young mother looks like, instead of a young singleton.” She cringes but forces the last sentence out. “With or without the Brimleys.” I lean in, wrapping myself around her. She pats me, hugging in a stiff sort of way. It’s her best. “You’re a Ford, remember that.” What she means is we’re better than the Brimleys, but she doesn't say it. “Now, I’m going to call Dr. Zara and get us an appointment. He’ll want to recommend you to the best ob-gyn in the city.” She tries not to stagger and I appreciate the effort. It’s siesta time. When she leaves, Nat comes in a second later. “How’d it go?” “Good.” I furrow my brow. “She was really cool about it. I suspect she’ll be downstairs crying and guzzling the vodka straight from the bottle, but it went well. She was nice. Weirdly nice.” “That’s awesome.” Nat sits next to me. “What do you want to do now?” “Sleep.” I nod once. “I need some sleep. I feel like shit.” “Okay. You sleep and I’ll go over some of the designs for next week. Our big launch is May thirty-first, so we need to make sure everything’s perfect.” “Okay.” I curl up on the bed, holding my stomach. Nat leaves and I roll onto my back, looking at the flat area where life is actually taking over. It’s so strange to me that something—someone—is chilling in there.

Some tiny seed person. My phone rings, flashing Carson’s name. I lift it, swiping to answer, “Hey.” “Hey, how’s it going?” He sounds weird. “Fucking brutal. How’s it going for you?” Why is he asking such a weird question at such a weird time? “Right.” He chuckles nervously. “Uhhhh, did you hear?” “Hear what?” “Matt’s dad’s dying decision was to leave everything to Matt. The money, the companies, the properties. Matt’s mom and him had a fairly tight prenup; she got a good settlement and some houses, but the lion’s share went to Matt.” “Oh God.” I cringe. “I know.” “So he has to quit?” I feel sick for him. “I can’t believe his dad would do this to him.” “I can. He wanted Matt outta hockey and now Matt’s out. His last game with the Rangers is the twenty-third of April.” “Wow.” I sigh. “Has he called you at all?” he asks softly, like he knows the answer. “No. Nothing. Not a text, nothing.” “How about Baby Brimley?” “I’m keeping it. I told my mom, she gets it. I’m not telling my dad until we have our company lifted off and we’ve scheduled everything for the first year, so I can hide if I have to.” “Are you going to tell Matt?” Again, he treads carefully. “No.” I hate the lies and the secrecy of not telling him. “He’s got a lot on his plate, Sami. Maybe—” “Don't, don't say it. I don't care. I don't need him or you or anyone. So if you disagree, I’ll be fine, feel free to fuck off.” I hang up the phone and toss it on the floor. Tears threaten me but I refuse them. I push them down, like I always do, and go back to touching my stomach, pretending the little human can understand my thoughts. I don't know what else to do. This level of mess is not something I’m comfortable with.

CHAPTER 23

ME OR HIM

A pril 17, 2016

Natalie Pacing the living room of the mansion overlooking the beach, I’m craving a good video game session. This week has been bullshit. The highs and lows have nearly killed me. Liz is ecstatic, texting pictures of wedding venues and asking me a million questions. I’m trying to be there for her, but the circumstances are unbearable. Sami’s being weird, rightfully so. She’s holding it together, acting like she doesn't really care that Matt’s a dick. Brady’s leaving me messages, defending Matt at every turn, claiming the stress Matt’s under is too much to deal with Sami and we should distance ourselves from their mess. And on top of all that, our company is going live soon. We have to finish everything right now. All the photo shoots, all the decorating and renos of the houses, and approval of all the brands and placements in photos. I’m a hot mess. Maxine is nattering on, telling Sami how this particular beach house was the right choice: it’s close to her parents’ house and a premium property. Sami’s writing the offer with Maxine while we do our third viewing. My phone rings, flashing Brady’s name. I click the phone off and pocket it, but I don't stop pacing. “Sami!” As if my nerves aren’t shot enough, I spin, horrified at the sight of Will strolling into the massive living room. His eyes dart to me. “Nat, I didn't know you’d be here too. Good to see you girls.” He grins, sporting a decent tan for April. Bile rises in my throat but I manage a pleasant smile. “Hey.” Sami offers a subtle wave and glances back at me. “I’m going to get some air.” She glares like I better be getting air too. But I don't. I don't move. I can’t. “Hi, William.” Maxine follows Sami out. “One other thing, sweetie, is we need to consider if any of the furniture has to go into the proposal.” Their voices get quieter.

Will folds his arms and grins. “I didn't believe it when I heard Sami was buying down the beach from us.” My heart stops. I turn, glancing outside and trying to figure out where his house is. “That way.” He points in the other direction. “Cool.” “It is.” He strolls over, looking casual as though he’s spent the day yachting. “Maybe it’s kismet.” “I think more like karmic punishment for something,” I sneer, not forgetting what he did to me. “Nat, don't be like that.” He comes close, too close. “I miss you.” His eyes lower to my chest. I contemplate kicking him in the nuts but my phone rings again. I ignore it, letting it vibrate in my pocket. “Is that a phone?” He chuckles. “No.” I try to answer like Sami would. “My father and I have been to a couple of the games, to see that guy you’re seeing play. He’s quite good.” I hate small talk. “He is. His name’s Brady.” “Right, I think I knew that. He was the one who’d slept with my date, at the party, the model—” “Don't.” My blood starts to rise. “Let’s not start counting conquests. His are all random girls who like hockey players. Yours are my friends. My ex-friends.” He winces. “I didn't mean—” “Yes, you did. You always mean to be a dick. You say everything with a stupid fucking smile so you can say I’m taking it that way, but you mean it that way. You’re just too big of a pussy to admit it.” “Nice mouth on you. I guess I should be glad I dodged this bullet. I didn't know that you were as common as your parents. I figured a lifetime with the upper classes might have taught you how to be a lady, but I guess trash is always going to be trash.” “Are you serious?” Sami storms into the room, hearing the tail end. “Get the fuck outta my house, William Fairfield. If I ever see you again, I’ll shoot your pin dick off.” She points. “If you EVER even glance her way, I will hire people—” I clamp my hand over her lips and smile politely. “What she means is, thanks for stopping by, Will. But we don't like you. So fuck off and die. On your own. Not because Sami hires people.” “Sluts.” He growls and heads out of the room, stomping extra hard. I have to hold Sami back as he leaves. She struggles to get free and kill him, but I grab her hair. “OW!” she shouts, following me closer so it doesn't pull. When the door slams I let go. “You can’t fight, you’re pregnant.” “And you can’t always cheat, Nat. You have to learn to fight fair.” “Uhm, there’s a large man beating up that Fairfield boy on the grass.” Maxine points to the massive foyer. “What?” I run for the front door, flinging it open and shouting, “Brady!”

He’s got Will jerseyed, again, and his fists are flying in uppercut sort of punches, feeding him shots. Lori grabs Brady, dragging him off. “He’s had enough. Brady! He’s had enough!” Will staggers off to the side, his mouth and nose are bleeding. “I’m going to sue you!” “Go ahead.” Brady charges at him again but Lori drags him back. “You hit him first and I witnessed it, Fairfield. Don't even,” Lori shouts at him. Will storms off to his car, getting in the back. I lift a middle finger at the car as the driver speeds off. “Wow, I don't own the house yet and there’s already a scandal,” Sami mutters, looking unimpressed. Brady is huffing his breaths, looking jacked up. He has a red welt on his left cheek but other than that he’s unscathed. When his gaze finds mine he melts. “Babe. I’ve been trying to call you.” “I know,” I snap and spin, storming back into the house. Brady follows. “Nat, come on!” He slams the door, chasing me down. When I get into the kitchen, Maxine seems uncomfortable and hurries out. “Nat, baby. I didn't mean it. I’ve been texting you. I tracked you down on the stupid phone because I need you to forgive me.” He comes closer so I back up. “Don't come near me.” Tears flood my eyes. “I don't want to see you.” “Why?” He has that same look in his eyes that he did when he asked me out, and I turned him down. “I kinda hate you right now. Your friend is killing my friend. And when I try to defend her, you tell me that I’m not your family. I think of you as my family.” My voice cracks, “You’re everything to me.” “Nat, I didn't mean it like that. I meant it like, I would call my brother because it’s his mom too. Not—” “Brady, there’s no defense for saying I’m not your family. You clearly see me differently than I see you.” I back up to the cupboard but he keeps coming closer. “No. You don't. I see you that way. I shouldn't have said it. It was dumb and it’s not how I think. I was panicking, my friend’s life was falling apart in front of me —” “Don't even start on me about lives falling apart.” I glare. “Nat, it’s not how I think,” he pleads but I’m not buying it. “Yeah, not now that there’s no one to suck your dick.” I mock him. “Come on, Nat, you never suck it.” He tries to joke. “Really?” I scowl up at him. “That's where you want to go with this?” “No.” He swallows hard. “I wanna take that back too. It was supposed to be funny and it clearly wasn't.” “Stop talking, Brady.” “Yes, ma’am.” “You’re an asshole. You hurt my feelings. I don't want to see you. I want you to go away and when I am ready to see you, I’ll let you know. But for right now, I have to take care of my pregnan—uh anyway. I have things to take care of. So leave.” “You’re pregnant?” He winces. “You’re pregnant?” He’s in shock. I contemplate

telling him I am, just to mess with him, but I’m scared his reaction will make me break up with him. “I want you to leave, now.” “Can you answer the question?” His tone creeps back up to testy. “No.” “No, you’re not, or no you won’t answer?” He looks sick. “No, I’m not pregnant. Now leave.” He doesn't move. He frowns, tilts his head, and then glances back. “No fucking way.” “LEAVE!” I scream. “No!” he shouts back. “Is she seriously pregnant?” “That’s none of your business.” I shoulder past him, going around the huge island. “Nat, I’m being very serious right now. Is she pregnant?” He sounds weird, scared. “No.” I lie because I must. “Now leave. I don't want to see you, not for a while. I need to cool off before we can talk.” “I love you. And you are my family. You’re my heart.” “I don't want to hear this.” I shake my head and point at the foyer. “Fine. But I’ll be waiting at our house for you.” He says it like he’s winning because I have to go home and see him. “You haven’t even been to the house, have you?” I almost laugh at him. “No, why?” “You go to the house, Brady. And you see if you think I’ll be there.” All my clothes and toiletries are at Sami’s. I assumed his panic was over that. “Did you move out?” His brow knits. “Yes.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Is this fight because Matt doesn't want to be with Sami, or because I said you weren’t my family?” His tone changes to pissed off. “Both. Your friend, someone you’re so close to that you would dare defend him to me, disrespects my sister and breaks her heart and she has no idea why, and you don't get why I’m pissed? She has no clue why he won’t even just call to break things off with her. He’s a fucking coward if he’s honestly breaking things off like this. And you don't understand why I’m disgusted with you for this?” “It’s their business, not ours.” “She’s my business.” My eyes burn and my throat hurts from the raging tears I want to sob, but I hold them back. “His dad and his brother just died. His mom is a mess. And then he finds out he’s responsible for companies with employees and houses and funerals. And we’re in the playoffs. And everyone is coming to him for money and advice and everything is pulling him in opposite directions. Something had to give.” “So he cut the least important thing in his life and you understand that?” My heart is breaking. “Yeah, I get it. The guy’s stressed. He’s a mess. He doesn't want to drag her into this.”

“Then he needs to man up and cut her free.” I’m shaking with anger. “I agree, Nat. I told him that. But he doesn't want to. He loves her, he’s confused.” “Okay, great. I’m glad we had this talk. It was enlightening.” “You don’t look glad.” “I’m done, Brady. I’ll come around and grab the last of my stuff sometime soon.” “Nat!” His eyes widen and he rushes me. “Don't do this. This isn’t our business. We can’t break up because they’re breaking up. I don't care what they do. I just want you.” “Until you get busy and you have to cut some dead weight, and I’m the first thing to go?” “No, I’m not like that. I mean, I get that he’s confused.” He shakes his head. “You’re twisting my words. Stop! I love you. I want you. I miss you. I don't care about anything else. I don’t want this to end, ever.” His eyes are so intense. He rushes me, wrapping around me, forcing a hug. His fingers dig in, gripping me. “I love you, Nat. I fucked up, again. I say the wrong thing. It happens. Please don't lump us into their shit.” He really is desperate. It’s all over his face. I’ve never seen him this panicked. “You have to choose. Him or me.” It’s cruel but I can’t support him doing this to Sami. “Don't make me do this,” he whispers. “You’ll pick him.” I lose the hold I have on my tears. My heart cracks a little in preparation for the break. “No. I’ll lose my best friend.” He kisses the top of my head. “It’s always going to be you, Natalie.” My heart doesn't mend, but it swells, making the cracks hurt more. “Fine. You can keep him as your friend, but he has forty-eight hours to deal with her. I won’t ever forgive him for this, ever, and I never want to see him again. I don't care if you see him, but I won’t be there and he isn’t welcome in our house. That's it. If he doesn't deal with her and release her from this hell of the unknown, it’s him or me.” “That's fair,” he whispers, breathing me in. “Please don't leave me.” He lowers his face to kiss my cheek but I pull away. “Don't ever leave me.” “I can’t do this right now. I’m at work, technically. You guys are lucky the film crew is at the beach. If they caught this, she’d be ruined.” “I love you, Nat. With everything in me.” He kisses the top of my head again. I don't say it back. I don't say anything. I have nothing nice to say. My swollen heart is bursting with pain and other things I don't want to feel.

CHAPTER 24

DUST

A pril 19, 2016

Sami I’m out of breath and feeling funky so I sit on the bench at the beach, staring up at the house, instead of at the ocean. I can’t see my kid running down the beach yet. I can’t see him or her yet. I only see him. He haunts me everywhere, only he’s not there when I get closer. It’s been nine days since we spoke last. I’ve given up. He appears in the yard, next to the pool. He resembles him for a moment and then he doesn’t. I blink and realize it’s Lori. “You okay?” He comes down the beach and sits next to me. I can see it in his eyes immediately. They drop to my stomach and then back up to meet my gaze. “Carson told you?” “Yeah.” He loses the façade. “I think he wanted me to check up on you anyway and knew I could come without it being weird. And I think I’m the only person who would have thought to come here. I tried the house and Nat’s. Carson called and called but Nadia answered your phone and said you weren’t home.” “Yeah.” I don't know what to say. “I didn't want to be found. Carson was a dick to me last time we talked. I’m not in the mood to hear how unfair it is for poor fucking Ma—him—that I’m keeping the baby when his life has gone to shit.” My bitterness tastes as bad as it sounds. “Carson’s super upset about how he acted. I won’t apologize for him. He wants to see you and do it in person.” He lowers his eyes again. “Anyway, did you go to the funerals?” he asks, changing the subject to something worse, probably unintentionally. “No. I don’t even know when they were.” I glance down. “He’s mad at me or something. He’s not speaking to me at all. No texts or calls. He’s just cut me out. Nine days.” “What are you going to do about it?” He sounds pissed on my behalf. “I’m Sami-fucking-Ford.” I scowl. “I don't chase after men. If he wants me, he knows where I am.” I don't know who I’m trying to convince more, Lori or me. “Well, since Carson and Rich are basically living together, I’ll take that deal you

had with Carson.” He winks. “If you need to marry someone, I’m all yours, Samifucking-Ford. No one will ever know that baby isn’t mine.” Tears well in my eyes but I refuse them and try to make a joke. “Thanks. But this guy once told me I needed to marry someone who wanted me, only me, not someone who would bang my maids.” “I wouldn't ever.” He chuckles. “Haven’t you heard the old saying, ‘Don't shit where you eat’?” “Sage wisdom in Canada, I’m sure.” “Sage wisdom everywhere.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in. “What a brutal week you’ve had.” “Very.” I laugh. “But I bought a house so it’s going to be great.” “Congratulations. And just down the beach from Rich’s parents. Excellent location.” “Yes, easy access for my assassins for when they go and kill Will.” I actually laugh with him. He laughs harder. “Pregnancy is making you meaner. Although I will say, watching Will storm out the front door of that house and punch Brady in the cheek was fairly awesome. And then Brady dragging him to the grass to give him a beating, was epic. Fairfield’s a douche.” “Did you go to the funerals?” I change the subject. I can’t do the anger I have at Will, not today. Not that the funerals are safer, but I can’t let go of my obsession with him. “Yeah. I was with the team. I thought maybe you came and sat in the back, a mysterious lady in black maybe.” He nudges me. “No.” “When’s the first doctor’s appointment?” he changes the subject, maybe sensing my discomfort. “A week. We have to figure out how far along I am and my due date and all that fun stuff.” “Are you okay?” I want to answer. I want so badly to say yes and be strong. But tears flood my eyes, and I can’t suck them back in. I can’t refuse them. They’re stronger than I am. I heave and burst all at once. I’m sobbing and lost and smothered in a warm embrace. “It’s okay, Sami. You don't have to be brave in front of me. And if you need a baby daddy, I’m all yours.” He holds me tighter than I think I’ve ever been held before. The pain and anguish are so much bigger than I thought they were. They’re the consuming kind, where you lose pieces of yourself to them. Whole parts of you darken, as the light no longer touches there. Lori lets me cry, holding me together. We sit like this for a long time, I don't know how long. But I’m done crying and sit, enjoying the feel of him and pretending not to imagine it’s Matt. When I glance up, there’s someone watching us. I realize it’s just him, he’s still haunting me. I keep seeing him everywhere. His silhouette is burned into my mind, so for the half a second I think I’m

hallucinating, I don't move. But then he turns and walks away, back up to the house. He doesn't fade the way the hallucinations always do. “Matt?” I struggle from the embrace and get up, running up the path to the vast yard. Matt’s at the corner of the house when I get to the pool. “Matt!” I scream. I’m angry and relieved in the same moment. He’s here. He’s finally here. He turns, his expression is a thousand words and none of them are good. “What are you doing here?” I cross the pool deck and back patio like a steam train building speed. I want to push him and hit him and hurt him and hug him. I want to cry and tell him I love him and I need him. But once I see him, my heart breaks. His eyes tell me a story, a sad one. He winces when he sees my face. “Why are you here?” I don't pretend I’m not covered in tears and snot and whatever else. “I came to tell you I’m sorry,” he mutters. “You’re sorry? It’s been nine days, Matt. Nine days. Your family died and that’s a terrible tragedy. But not even one text?” I have to ask. I have to know why. “I wrote dozens. I just didn't send them. I didn't know how.” “What are you talking about?” “I can’t date you anymore.” He scowls. “I came to tell you, face to face. I have to focus on my company now. I’m sorry.” My heart cracks, a mosaic no more. The pieces fall to the ground in front of me, losing their colors and becoming dust. It’s the worst case, the one I didn't even let myself imagine would happen. I don't even have a response for it. I blink and stare for an instant before my hands come to life on their own. My left hand slips to my right, moving fluidly, calmly as it pulls the ring off. My fingers are a bit puffy, but I manage to drag it down and hold it out for him. “I don't want it.” He shakes his head. I drop it in front of him, let it fall in the pile of ash that used to be my mosaic heart. “Sami,” he whispers. Once upon a time it might have been his warning tone, but now the beast is dead, smothered by whatever this thing in front of me is. “Keep the ring.” “You keep it.” I take a step back from it. “It holds the happiest day of my entire life in it. I don't want that memory.” His eyes gloss over but they’re still dead. He’s still a dead fish. A heartless, beastless fucker. “Sami.” “It was nice meeting you, Matt. Have a nice life.” I turn back and walk down to the beach, leaving him there. Lori stands up, looking worried as I get close to him. “What did Brimley want?” he asks. “We’re done. He came to let me know.” “Oh God, Sami. I’m so sorry.” Lori wraps himself around me, trying to hold me together again.

But I don't need a hug or to be held together. I’m empty and hollow and numb. And I don't know what will fix it. I’m scared nothing ever will. When Lori’s leaving much later, and I’m about to be all alone with the silence, fear fills me. Real fear. The sound of the door closing behind him makes me flinch. I exhale slowly, letting all the air out of my lungs so I can fully experience the emptiness of this ending. Frozen in the window, staring at the beach, terrified to move in case I shatter into a million pieces, I can’t help but wonder how everything turned out this way. All along there had been a real risk Matt wasn’t enough for my parents, but the thrill of it had added adventurous flavoring to our relationship. The possibility I'm the one who's not enough is now, ironically, my worst fear. The emptiness overtaking me isn’t a new feeling. It’s an old friend coming home. It’s inside, taking up every bit of space and turning me into nothing, making me hollow. For the first time ever, my ability to pretend everything is fine annoys me. I don’t understand how to be as broken as I am so the anguish slips by, unfelt. I blink tears down my cheeks and take my first breath after the exhale but the air doesn’t fill me. It doesn’t add any weight or make me whole again. I won’t ever be whole again.

CHAPTER 25

ANOTHER DEAL

M ay 28, 2016

Natalie Stumbling from bed, I rub my eyes and yawn, stretching and shuddering from the early wake-up. I stayed up way too late triple checking all the designs and all the sites, making sure everything will go live without a hitch. “Morning, sunshine.” Sami smiles brightly at me from the kitchen, friendly and happy. It’s alarming. “Morning,” I grumble and flop into a chair. A latte slides across the counter toward me, almost magically. Nadia offers something that resembles a smirk. “Mr. Coldwell was sleeping in the guesthouse again.” “I know.” I nod. I slept out there too but I don't want to tell her that. “It was that or let him sleep in the yard. I think he’s peed on all the trees now.” She chuckles as she leaves the kitchen. “He’s gone now.” “What’s up with her?” I sip my perfect vanilla latte. “She seems really happy.” No one in this house has been happy, not for real. “I don't know, she’s been humming and acting weird all morning.” Sami leans forward. “Blow it on my face.” “You’re a freak.” I take a sip and swallow, breathing on her. “Even with your morning breath, it still smells like heaven.” She pulls back. “I miss coffee.” She still looks skinny as ever, except for the boobs. They have a mind of their own now. And a plan. They’re huge. World domination can be their only motive. “Why can’t you have coffee again?” I sip and close my eyes, imagining the horror of a world with no coffee. “No stimulants. No caffeine, no booze, no drugs, no nothing. The doctor said the rules are kinda strict for pregnant women. He said I should avoid everything on this list: raw fish and raw eggs and a bunch of other crap. And I have to eat peanut butter so the baby builds a natural immunity. It’s intense. I gave the list to Nadia and she makes sure everything is the way it should be.” She picks at her fruit salad. “You’re chipper again this morning.” I narrow my gaze. “I honestly thought you’d be psychotic, especially with Brady sleeping over.”

“What? I don't hate Brady. He’s a nice guy. And he loves you—how could I hate that?” She scoffs. “I’m cool as a cucumber. What’s there to stress over? Our company goes live in a few days. Everyone under the sun has tried to book us for TV interviews. My dad is so proud of me, he can’t stand it. He hasn’t been back to London in two months. He’s working so much here. My mom’s quit drinking, which is insane. And she’s upstairs right now, probably Googling other baby shit. She’s obsessed. My stupid morning sickness is finally over. My baby is healthy. I get to have an ultrasound in a few weeks and find out the gender. I don't have to have the little weasel until the end of November which means I won’t be huge pregnant in the summer. I might not be really showing. I’m fifteen weeks and you can’t even tell.” She turns sideways and she’s right. She’s still incredibly lean. “Liz and Mike are getting married, which is insane and yet I kinda dig it. She’s a great addition to our company. And he’s genuinely awesome. He’s not even speaking to —anyway, I offered them my parents’ castle to get married. Which I had no idea was her dream wedding. We are going to do it up. It’ll be the best wedding ever and our show is going to kill that setting. I can already see the setup and design. I offered to just plan it for her and it has been a great distraction. Things are good.” At the end of the little motivational speech, which I suspect she’s been chanting for the last couple of weeks, I see the glint of agony. It’s always there, just below the surface. Sometimes it escapes and she spends the day crying. Her not being a crier makes it that much more intense. But also just knowing how much pain she’s in. “I’m glad you’re helping them plan their wedding. I’m glad it’s good for the company. And I’m really glad it’s distracting. But I want you to be careful, if it makes you sad to see this romance.” “I’m fine.” It’s a horrid lie. As Asshat has grieved for his brother and father, she has grieved for him. The first week was awful. Her fits of rage, packing his things, and sobbing endlessly broke me. I won’t recover from seeing that. And she won’t recover from doing it. The second week wasn't better. She was calm, creepy calm, and detached. We did all the photo shoots for the entire year that week. She was like a blank slate, on autopilot and doing whatever we told her to. She posed, she smiled, she pretended. She was old Sami. The third week was our hardest. I think it hit her that week. I caught her sitting alone in the park across from his building. I asked her what she was doing and she said she needed to see him. She was hoping he was with someone else. It would be easier for her. So I sat there with her, until my butt went numb. She fell asleep; Sami Ford fell asleep in the park. When I forced her to come home she broke down, crying in her closet holding his stupid fucking coat. I sent it to his house that day. Honestly, I wanted to burn the stupid thing. She grieved hard for a month. But the second doctor’s appointment saved us all. She heard the tiny heartbeat for the first time and she snapped out of it. Her grief for him ended too abruptly for me to trust it, but it’s been two weeks of her being better.

I wish he had died, I wish it all the time. It would make her pain more bearable and worthy to the people who don't know she’s pregnant and not just sad about some guy. “Sami, did you remember your fish oil?” Mrs. Ford comes clicking into the room. It’s eight in the morning and she’s already dressed and looking beautiful, with her hair in a twist and dark reading glasses on. She’s like a young Eva Gabor. “I did.” Sami rolls her eyes. “As if Nadia didn't force them on me this morning.” We’re a team. Sami and I have become bed buddies and working buddies on top of already being hanging together buddies. It’s just like old times. Before Brady and Asshat. Her mom and Nadia are the bosses of the team, making sure every aspect of Sami’s life is focused on a healthy baby. And Sami’s dad is the head of the team for our careers, ensuring the company going live will be spectacular. He still doesn't know about the baby though. “There’s a select group of Lamaze classes you can take, either one-on-one coaching so no one knows you’re pregnant or with other wealthy celebrities who prefer privacy. You just need to choose which, and I will have that booked. You need to start around twenty weeks with the meditation aspects of it.” “There’s a Miss Beverly at the door,” Nadia interrupts Sami’s mom. “Beverly?” Sami scowls. “I don't know a—” She pales. “Show her into the sitting room.” She swallows hard and gives me a look. “Cousin Bev.” My heart stops. Asshat’s Cousin Bev? Sami walks from the kitchen and instinctively I climb off the chair to follow her. “Who’s Cousin Bev?” her mom asks. “She’s a Brimley.” I force myself to say the name we never say. “Oh.” Her mom gets a hopeful look on her face. I want to slap it off every time I see it. Now that Matt’s the head of the Brimley companies and fortune, she longs for reconciliation between them. She doesn't care that he’s killed off pieces of Sami, whole chunks of her. Her parents piss me off sometimes. Every footstep is forced and painful, and as we round the corner I expect something I don't get. Instead of some posh girl in a suit, we get a girl about our age with dark hair and glasses and a soft smile. She looks nice, actually. Like Liz, sort of, sort of geeky and down to earth. “Hi, I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I kind of thought you might not want to see me if I called ahead.” She walks to Sami, holding a hand out. “I’m Bev. Matt’s cousin.” Sami finches slightly when his name’s mentioned and doesn't take her hand or introduce any of us. “Hi.” I take her hand. Sami’s frozen. “I’m Natalie, her best friend.” “Of course you are. You’re the one Coldwell doesn't stop crying about.” She grins. “I’ve wanted to shake your hand for a while, the girl who turned God’s gift to women into a weepy schoolgirl.” We all laugh, except Sami. I like Bev, it’s instant.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, but he was a mess the last time. It was fairly awesome. Pretty sure you ruined him.” Her accent is soft. She stops smiling and glances at Sami. “Can we talk, privately?” Sami shakes her head. “They can hear whatever you have to say.” “Okay.” She turns and looks at the sofas. “Do you mind if I sit?” “No.” Sami sounds funny again. It’s taken her weeks to get here, and this one visit could have her back in her room, crying in the dark. “The reason I came—” “I sent all his stuff back,” Sami blurts. “Oh, that’s not why I’m here. I wouldn't have cared if you burned his shit and made art out of the ashes.” Her tone loses some of the kindness she’s clearly putting on. “I came because I needed to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay.” “I’m fine.” Sami’s “fine” is the least convincing thing I’ve ever seen. It cuts into me. “I can tell.” Bev nods, obviously not believing the lie. “He’s not. I know you don't care, I know you probably hate him more than you hate anyone, but he’s a mess.” “You’re right, we don't care,” I blurt, not trying to be rude but this is all about survival now. “There’s something I think you don't know. You were the stipulation, Sami. My uncle had lawyers come to the hospital as he was dying and rewrite the will. And you and hockey were the stipulations. Matty wasn't allowed to see you or be with you. He wasn't allowed to have contact with you at all. He had to break things off via lawyers or be written out completely, nothing. No money at all.” “What?” I gasp but Sami sits and stares, stoic. “It’s disgusting. I always hated my uncle; he was a douche. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but he was. And I don't give a shit. He wrote my aunt out of the will, almost completely. He left nothing for his own family. Everything, every tiny penny except Matty’s trust fund, was going to Tony, that dick. So when Tony died, Uncle had to redo the will immediately. But he hated you and thought you were a bad influence on Matt.” She lowers her gaze. “He hated you and hockey.” “Why didn't he just agree, walk away with his trust fund, and say fuck it?” I have to ask how he could have possibly chosen money over Sami. “Because my uncle was a jerk. He made it so Tony’s pregnant wife would have been out in the cold. Not a penny to her. Her and my aunt. They would have been evicted from the properties, shamed and left with nothing but what they had brought into the marriages. And nothing to Matt but his trust fund.” “He chose to protect them all instead of being happy?” Sami’s mom slumps onto a cushion next to me, shifting the couch. “Yup. That’s Matt.” Bev sighs, seeming close to tears. “He’s the dumbest asshole in the world. But he would take his coat off in a snowstorm and go cold, to make sure you were warm.” Sami breaks. She slumps, sobbing, and then runs from the room.

Her mom follows her, but I just stare at Bev, not sure if she realizes what she’s said, not sure if she knows the story about Matt giving Sami his coat. “Oh fuck. I didn't mean to come and upset her. I wanted her to know. I would have wanted to know why, if I were her. And I knew none of the chickenshits in your life would tell you. I know how the fancy world works and how everything is a big secret.” “Does Brady know this?” My insides are on fire. “Yeah, Brady and me and the lawyers are the only ones. The lawyers don't give a shit about you girls but Brady and Matt do. And they still haven’t told.” “Holy shit.” I sit back. “Holy shit.” I don't know what else to say. Asshat is still an asshat but it makes sense at least. I feel like one weight has left my shoulders but then another has slumped onto them and crushed me. “She’s fifteen weeks pregnant.” I have to say it. “You can’t tell him or anyone else. It’s why she’s taking this so hard. She’s not usually this weak over some fucking guy.” “Oh God.” Bev lifts her hand to her mouth. “She found out the day his dad and brother died. We came to the hospital in Boston but he wouldn't see her. He wouldn't even speak to her. And she knew she was pregnant.” I need someone to see why this is so hard for Sami, that she isn’t just in love with a guy who refuses to love her back. “Oh God.” Her eyes dart in the direction Sami fled. “I shouldn't have come here.” She stands. “No. I’m glad you did. She needed to know.” “Is she going to tell him?” Her eyes glisten with tears. “No.” I shake my head. “She doesn't want anything from him.” “He loves her.” Bev starts to cry. “He’s a mess. He’s horrible actually. He lives in his office and stares out the window and snaps all the time when people try to talk to him. I’ve never seen him like this. I didn’t think it was possible, but he’s exactly like his dad.” “He chose wrong.” “He couldn't let Tony’s pregnant wife and his mom have nothing. My aunt’s family is land rich but they’re cash poor. Marrying my uncle was her way of making money and he got her connections. She’s got very little.” “In rich people’s terms but both of those women would have been fine in the real world’s standards. And surely there’s a loophole now that his dad’s dead.” I can’t believe this bullshit. “Matt’s the head now, he can do whatever he wants.” Again, her red and puffy gaze darts in the direction Sami went. “But I think he believes he’s blown his chance.” “He has. But I don't understand why he didn't just wait for the dad to die, settle the paperwork, and then disregard the entire will?” There has to be a solution to this agony. “I don't know. He won’t talk about it. He won’t talk to anyone except Brady and the lawyers and other business people. He’s handling the business and nothing else. He paid out his contract and didn't finish the season of hockey. He never got to play his last game.” She sighs. “I was hoping if she knew, she might go to him

—” “She won’t.” “I don't blame her. He left her pregnant and alone. I only hoped. Maybe.” “No.” I remain firm. “She’s done with him.” “When he finds out about the baby, he might want to see it.” She gives me a hopeful look. “Then I guess he’ll have to go to court like all the other deadbeat dads in the world and try to make it happen.” She flinches when I say it but I don't care. He’s dead to me and to Sami. “Tell Sami I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of bad news, but when the baby’s born, I’d like to be able to see her again. If it’s okay with her. And Gran will want to as well.” “I’ll ask her but I can’t guarantee anything.” “That’s fair.” Bev stands, motioning her head at the door. “Thanks for seeing me.” “Thanks for not being a chickenshit like the other chickenshits in our lives.” I can’t believe Brady never told me this. “Hopefully I’ll see you again under better circumstances.” She smiles and shows herself out. I cover my face, unable to even process this. Then I grab my phone and call Brady. “Hey, babe.” “You knew his dad made him leave Sami and you couldn't tell her that? You couldn’t spare her feelings or put her out of her misery?” I don't bother with niceties. He’s silent for a moment. “We made a deal, Nat. We’re not going to let their shit break us up.” He sounds worried. He should be. “This isn’t their shit, this is yours. You lied, to me and to Sami.” “I never lied!” he raises his voice. “OMISSION IS LYING, BRADY!” I scream into the phone. I want so badly to tell him she’s pregnant. I want him to know how much this has damaged Sami, and why. I want him to know what kind of horrors this will bring her and the setback we’ll be looking at. “Do you know how much this information might have helped her?” “Nat, don't! Just stop! We can’t let them drag us in!” “That’s the difference between you and me—she isn’t dragging me in. I’m here because I want to be.” I hang up the phone and slump into my hands. My heart is breaking for us all.

CHAPTER 26

WEAKNESS

M ay 28, 2016

Sami My phone rings again but I look the other way, refusing to let Nat talk me out of this. Vincenzo parks the car in front of the Brimley building. I jump out before he gets the door, storming for the building. The doorman flinches when he sees me, but he gets the door. I walk to the desk, scowling. “You tell Matt Brimley he better be downstairs to see me in the next five minutes.” I point at the car. “I’ll wait in my car.” The words are growled. I turn on my heel and head back to the car. Vincenzo gets the door for me, with a worried expression. “Don't.” I point at him and climb in. The only reason he drove me was because I tried to drive myself. It didn’t go well. I slump into the leather seats and wait. I don't look at his building or the door or for him. I stare out the other window, watching the traffic go by. I cannot believe this is my life. My gratitude, that tiny heartbeat, isn’t getting me through. I hold my hands over my stomach, begging it to make this okay, to make me stronger. My entire body tightens when the door to the limo opens. It takes everything inside me to keep watching the traffic when the smell of his cologne hits the car. I wish it made me sick, instead of what it makes me feel. He doesn't speak. He sits and the door closes and we’re alone. Vincenzo drives, taking us nowhere and everywhere. I refuse to cry, even though everything in me wants to. I swallow the lump in my throat and glance his way. “I want to hear it from your lips.” I’m not prepared for how he looks. It’s the opposite of what I expected. He’s in a suit with his hair still long, but it’s slicked back, styled by someone other than him. He’s clean-shaven and perfect. Horribly perfect. He so still that he reminds me of the wax people in Madame Tussauds. “Beverly?” he asks softly and without emotion. “Just tell me the truth. You owe it to me.” I’m calm too. I don't know how. Or why. But we’re frozen in these icy shells.

“She must have told you everything if you’re here. What else is there to say?” “I want to hear it from your fucking lips!” I shout, breaking my icy crust but desperately keeping my tears at bay. He cringes. “I want to hear that you traded me for money. I need to hear you say it.” “I traded you for money.” His voice doesn't crack. He doesn't crack. “I hate you,” my voice cracks. “I know. But you have to get over it.” “Like you have?” I laugh at him, losing my cool. “It doesn't matter about me.” “Look at you.” I point. “You look like my dad. Actually, you look like your dad.” I laugh harder but it’s not joy, it’s insanity. I’ve officially lost my mind. He doesn't budge. He’s still made of wax. “You have nothing to say to me? Not a fucking thing? Are you even alive in there?” I jump up, messing his hair and slapping his face, harder than I mean to. It snaps him to life but the response isn’t anger. He grabs me, squeezing my arms. His eyes lose their cold hatred. It melts away and becomes the story I need to see. The love story I knew wasn't fake. His lip trembles as he pulls me to him, as he rolls us to the side. He kneels in the car, pressing me into the seat and hovering over me. He’s bigger with the suit, more severe. “Don't touch me!” I push his hands off my arms, ready for him to shut off again, but he doesn't. He lowers, quickly, squishing me into the seat. His actions are fluid and fast but the moment his mouth hovers over mine, he pauses coming closer slowly. His breath whispers on my mouth as his hair falls forward, sheltering us from the world. I contemplate pushing him off but I’m not strong. I want this. I want him. I can’t stop. His lips brush mine softly, lasting a second before he pushes them apart and forces a hard kiss on me. I keep up, kissing back, drawing him down on me more, needing more. I wrap around him, letting him lift me up and pull me into the seat across from where we started, placing me in his lap without stopping the kiss. Our tongues invade each other’s mouths as we rip at each other’s clothes. Our eyes don't meet, they don't dare. His hands lift to my breasts, cupping them, weighing them like always. When he brushes his thumbs over my nipples, pleasure rolls through me, making me shudder, but it doesn't stop me from yanking his tie off and ripping every single button off his shirt. I haul it back, dragging my fingers over his muscled arms and shoulders. He lowers his hands to my legs, running his fingers up my thighs as he lifts my skirt. He pauses, rubbing his hands over my butt. The touch becomes less intimate and more exploratory as he pats and pulls at the elastic. I cringe into the kiss, remembering I’m wearing granny panties. They’re way more comfortable on my stomach.

My stomach. My tiny heartbeat. My strength. The kiss pauses and the real world creeps in. I sit back, feeling his erection between my legs. His pants are undone and his boxers are barely containing his huge cock. When our eyes meet, I lose the lust plaguing me. The hate slips in, creating a wedge between us. He lifts a hand, brushing it against my cheek, running his thumb over my lower lip. His eyes change again, the story they tell changes to a sad one. He sits up, holding me to him, pressing our chests together and hovering next to my face with his. “I miss you.” He breaks my heart all over again. “Then you should have picked me.” He doesn't offer excuses, just a kiss. Only it’s not just a kiss. It’s everything. Everything he wants to say but won’t. But it doesn't matter now. It’s too late. It takes me right up to this exact moment to see that it’s too late. I reach up, making a decision, and bang on the partition, like he did once a long time ago. He pauses, mid kiss. “Don't go yet.” “I’m choosing me.” The reality of this choice is painful but necessary. “You chose yourself.” He pulls back, giving me a hurt look. “I never did any of this for myself.” “You sure as fuck didn't do it for me.” “Stay. Come upstairs and we’ll talk. We can have dinner,” he implores. “No.” “Please.” “I can’t, Matt. You and I both know I can’t. I’m not going to be this girl. We spent our entire relationship hiding us from the world. Pretending we were friends. And we were never friends. I can’t go back there, pretending. I have too much responsibility now.” I wish he knew the truth of why, but I’m scared he would pick me, he would do the honorable thing, and I don't want that. I wanted him to pick me when I was the only choice. “I just need a little more time,” he pleas. “No. You’ve had years of my time. And now someone else needs it.” “Who?” His eyes light up. “Lori?” “No.” I scoff. “You’re mi—” “Don't say I’m yours. I’m not. I’m moving on. I needed to hear you tell me that you honestly picked money over love. Love you fought so hard to get.” “Sami!” “No.” I struggle to climb off him but he doesn't let me. He holds me tight. “Yes!” His ferocity hits. “Tell me who, if it’s not Lori.” “No!” I shove him back, wrestling from his grip. When I get free I climb to the other side of the car, staring at him. “Is it Palfrey?” he asks as the car parks outside his building again.

“Goodbye.” I fold my arms over my chest, waiting for him to get out. “You got a boob job and a new guy in six fucking weeks? It’s nice to see I meant absolutely nothing to you.” He runs his hands through his hair, trying to straighten it. He looks ridiculous now, buttons torn open and hair messy. He does his pants up, trying to tuck his shirt in. I don't say a thing. “You honestly aren’t going to give me a name?” “I don't have one.” I’m laughing on the inside because we’re talking about two different things and I could put him out of his misery by telling, but it would make his life so much worse. “You’re killing me right now.” Those words hit home, hard. “If you suffer even half as much as I did this last month, then it’s worth it.” “You hate me that much? You can’t see my side of this at all?” “No.” I blink and a tear I didn't know was clouding my vision slips down my cheek. The highs and lows of pregnancy and Matt are explosive. More tears come, overflowing my eyes from the bottom, drowning my vision and me as if water is filling the car. It’s so real I almost hold my breath. “You’re not alone in the suffering, Sami!” He comes to life, like he used to. “My brother died and I never even got to say goodbye to him. The last time I talked to him, I told him to go fuck himself and that I felt sorry for his unborn baby. Those are literally the last words I spoke to him. Then my dad died, hours later. His last words to me were that I was the biggest disappointment in his life. A whole lifetime of bad things happened to him, and I was the worst. My mom’s been high on something every day: lithium, Percocet, Ativan, you name it and she’s doing it. She’s not even sad my dad’s gone. She can’t cope with losing Tony, also her favorite. The entire responsibility of the company got dumped in my lap. My brother’s pregnant wife is included in that. She’s on bed rest, believe it or not, at four months pregnant, and a complete bitch. My dad’s entire family hates her, and she’s so rude my personal staff won’t tend to her at all. They refuse. And as if that’s not all bad enough, my mom’s awful family thinks they can control me now, so they can govern the finances. Because they were so stellar with their own. And as you always say, ‘the fucking shit icing on the fuck-you cake’ is that my grandma isn’t talking to me.” He sighs. “And all I’m trying to do is not be exactly what my dad thinks—thought I am.” He pauses like he’s waiting for me to care about any of that. When I say nothing, he nods. “And breaking your heart is the cruelest part of all that. But dragging you into this would have been worse.” I continue to stare at him, saying nothing, drowning as the water gets higher. “You honestly have nothing to say to all that?” “I don't. You pushed me away and made me feel like I was disposable. I can’t feel sorry for you. I could have helped. I could have said fuck your dad and your mom and your sister-in-law.” “I know that, Sami. I know what you would have said.” He scoffs. “You’ve never had responsibility in your life. And before this moment, neither have I. I had a split second to make a massive decision.” “And I was the easiest thing to cut off?” I can’t believe he’s saying this.

“You were the least selfish thing to cut off.” “Okay.” I shrug. “You said it. I needed you to say it and you have. Thank you for that.” He leans forward. “You never think of anyone but yourself.” I lean forward too, meeting him on the middle with the same level of anger. “Guess we both needed to grow up. Lucky this happened.” “Oh, what’s so fucking hard for you? I hurt your feelings, so you’re depressed and your life is over? We both know you’ll move on, you hate not getting your own way. If you spent half a second looking at it, you’d see things aren’t so bad for you.” He laughs so bitterly I wince and lose some of the tears down my cheeks. “Jesus, my investment board actually wants to invest in Princess and the Pauper. I can’t even believe I have to make that decision tomorrow. And your parents love you. They might have crazy expectations of you, but they actually love you. And your best friend and you have all these adventures—” “I’m pregnant, you daft asshole.” I can’t do it. I can’t do another heartbeat of saint-fucking-Sami, of sparing him this while enduring his vileness. His jaw drops. “What? Whose—” “Whose?” I gasp. My hands ball into fits but before I can make a terrible decision, I get out of the car. I can’t believe I’ve told him about the baby. I can’t believe he’s asked me whose it is. I can’t believe any of this. It happened too quickly. I need air and space and some perspective on the decision I just made carelessly. I adjust my skirt and head down the street, toward the park. “Sami!” he shouts from the limo. I don't look back, I run. I cross with a crowd, running to get away from him and get lost in them. As I enter the park, I realize I’ve left my phone in the car. I don't have anything, not a wallet, not a card, not a phone, nothing. I turn toward our building, grateful the stupid buildings are close enough to the park. “Sami!” he shouts again, closer than before. His dress shoes slap on the sidewalk. People glance over at us as they pull their phones out to record me and take pictures. “Fuck!” I break into another run but he catches up, grabbing my arm and spinning me. “Stop!” He looks sick. “What did you mean? When? How?” “I can’t do this out here.” I glance at the people. “I don't give a fuck. You better start talking!” His eyes are wide, terrified. They lower to my chest and then my stomach. He bites his lip. “Not here.” I rip from his grip and start walking quickly. “When?” he demands. “I don't have to tell you anything.” I scoff at him. “You’ve ignored me for almost seven weeks. I don't have to tell you shit.” “Don't do this. Just tell me, how far along?” “Four months next week,” I mutter and walk faster.

“Four?” He gasps. “It’s mine.” That stops me dead in my tracks. I pause, taking deep breaths and refuse the tears lingering in my eyes, drowning me again. “I found out the day you stopped talking to me.” I want to say so many other things, so many hateful and regretful things, but I can’t. My throat tightens with the lump I refuse to cry. “Oh God.” He swallows hard, stepping back. His eyes tell me a story, a horrible one of guilt and pain. But I don't like his stories anymore so I turn away. “I have to go.” I hurry away from him. He doesn't chase me. I make it to my building, to the safety of my shelter. My stomach hurts, the little heartbeat agrees. It hates him and all of this. It feels my pain with me. When I get into the elevator with my back against the marble, I close my eyes and let it happen. I let the waves of tears burst from me, drowning me completely. I slide down the wall, curling up in the corner and holding myself. The pain in my stomach is nothing compared to the agony in my chest. The doors open, making a noise. I lift my gaze to my dad. His eyes fly open wide. He’s panicking and speaking fast but I can’t understand him. He drops to his knees and helps me up, hugging me tightly. He glances down at my legs. His mouth opens wider, he’s screaming for help. I follow his gaze, seeing the blood droplets on my skirt. I lift it, seeing what looks like a period on my underwear. I hold my hand to my stomach, scared for the little heartbeat.

CHAPTER 27

I CHOOSE US

M ay 29, 2016

Natalie Pacing back and forth has become a thing for me. I think most of my exercise is done pacing. I can’t believe the timing of this. We go live in a day and Sami’s here in the hospital, and Matt knows about the baby and Sami knows why Matt doesn't want to be with her. It’s too much. Sami’s mom comes down the hall, holding two lattes. She hands me one. “She’s still sleeping. They said the baby’s fine. It was a subchorionic hemorrhage. It’s quite common in the first trimester and the bleeding is from a tiny tear, but it’s no threat to the baby at this point and will heal. They said they want her to be on bed rest for a few days and then they’ll scan it again, just to be sure she’s fine. She’ll have to take it easy for the pregnancy if everything’s fine. If it’s not, she’ll be on bed rest until the baby’s born.” “Oh man.” I cringe. “She won’t do that well. Is Mr. Ford okay?” “He’s fine.” Sami’s mom rolls her eyes. “He’s not leaving her side, doting on her actually. I think he wants to strangle Matt Brimley. I tried explaining to him, but he’s one of these old-fashioned ‘do the right thing’ men. Honestly, this might have been the best way for him to find out there even is a baby. He’s terribly concerned.” She smiles. “And Sami’s healthy as a horse.” “Well, that's all good news.” “It is.” Her eyes widen, lighting up. “Brady.” She smiles behind me. “Matt. What a lovely surprise.” I turn to see Brady and Matt. They both look fairly upset. “You have some fucking nerve, Banks,” Brady growls at me, ignoring Sami’s mom. “She’s fine,” I ignore him and tell Matt. The look on his face is awful. As much as I hate the guy, I can’t bear the thought of him thinking she’s dying. Even he doesn't deserve that level of torment. “The baby and Sami are both fine.” He exhales. “Okay.” His eyes dart to Mrs. Ford’s. “I’m sorry.” “Well, save that. Mr. Ford’s here, and I suspect he’s the one you’ll have to go through. But come with me, we’ll see if we can convince her dad that it’s not the

worst thing in the world for you to be here.” Sami’s mom cocks an eyebrow. “He’s very disappointed in you. We both are.” “I know.” Matt nods. “Disappointed in myself.” He follows her, leaving Brady, savage-looking Brady, alone with me. “You bust my balls, almost break up with me over this shit. Meanwhile, you’re keeping a whopper of a secret for her?” His eyes narrow. “I act exactly the same way as you and yet I’m the asshole?” “I kept a secret, so what? He chose to break her heart. She kept something from him that wouldn't have changed a single thing.” “Nat, this is the same thing. I kept his secret and you kept hers and they dragged us in, like I fucking said they were. And now we’re here. You never sleep at home. I spend all my time in the fucking guest cottage, hoping you’ll come out there. We never see each other. You didn't even come to a single game in the playoffs. My first NHL playoffs and the one person I need there, isn’t.” He snaps his mouth shut, breathing for a moment like fire might come out his nostrils. “I’m done.” My insides tighten. “I’m done with them. We need to walk away for our self-preservation.” That makes me laugh with relief. “I choose us.” He rushes me, scooping me into his arms. He holds me tight, breathing me in. “I choose you. I’ll walk from him if you’ll walk from her. I wanna go home. I wanna spend the summer alone with you. I want you to walk out of here right now and choose me. Please? They can sort their shit without us.” I pull back from his suffocating grip. “Okay. I have to tell her though.” “No.” He shakes his head. “You don't want to go down there. Choosing me means leaving now.” “Yes, I do. My friend’s in the hospital, Brady. She wouldn't ever leave me here to fend for myself. She would tell me she needed a day away. And that's what I’m going to do. I’m choosing you, but I’m not walking away from her. She’s my sister.” I sigh, enjoying the view of his face for the first time in a while. “But I’m glad asshat knows. I feel so much better, lighter. And I don't feel sick about keeping this from you anymore.” “Ditto.” He cups my face, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Now hurry the fuck up. I want to be fuc—making love to you in T-minus thirty minutes. And then I wanna cuddle. And then I wanna order pizza and play video games and not leave our apartment for a full twenty-four hours.” “You can say ‘fucking.’” I laugh and kiss him again. “And that sounds pretty awesome actually. I’ll be right back.” I leave and head toward the angry voices. What I find down the hallway is exactly what I thought it would be. Sami’s dad’s shouting at Matt, but in his hospital voice, “You have the nerve to knock my daughter up, break up with her, almost force her to lose the baby, and then show up here? I don't think so, kid. You need to go.” He pokes Matt in the chest. Matt stands firm, taking the beating, even though Mr. Ford has to look up to him to give it.

“Now you turn around, tuck tail, and head on out of here before I have to call security.” I sneak past them, slipping into the room. Sami stirs, smiling weakly at me. “Hey.” She sounds exhausted. “Hey.” I come to the bedside, hugging her. “Is the baby still—?” “It’s fine. The bleed was something minor. You fell asleep after the scan and the doctor came and saw your mom. He said you’re totally fine and the baby is fine.” “Is that Matt?” She scowls, glancing at the door where the men are talking too loud. “Oh shit.” “Yeah. He and Brady are here. I think you and him have some things to discuss, and we have some work stuff to get done so I’m gonna head home. I need to see Brady too. We both have been carrying a huge secret and it’s been causing fights.” “His loyalty to Matt is no different than yours to me.” “I know. I just hate Matt.” “Me too.” “And yet you still love him?” I wrinkle my nose. “Even after all of this?” “I don't know anymore.” She glances at the door. “But it’s up to me and Matt to figure out how this whole parenting thing is going to go. So you and Brady go home, don't worry about us.” She winces at the sound of her dad fully shouting now. “This is great.” “Yeah, I’m gonna go before this turns physical.” “Good call. Text me later.” “I will. Don't move around, stay in bed and rest. I put your phone right there. Vincenzo brought it.” “Oh awesome. Thanks.” “See ya in a bit.” I hug her again and leave, again slinking past Matt and Mr. Ford. “You can’t decide for her! Let her turn me away!” Matt tries. I hope Mr. Ford punches him and says no. Asshole. Mrs. Ford shakes her head, sipping her coffee. “You off?” “Yeah. I need some sleep.” “We’ll go back to the beach house when they let her out. See you there for the first day of Princess and the Pauper?” “Yes, you will.” I hug her and leave. When I get to Brady, he grins. “The Fords aren’t at all how I expected them to be.” “They’re like new people.” I glance back. “I’ve never seen any of them like this.” “Let’s go home and forget all about the Fords and Brimleys.” He kisses the side of my head, and for the first time in a long time that sounds amazing.

CHAPTER 28

DADDY DEAREST

M ay 29, 2016

Sami “Sami! Sami, let me see you! Tell your dad it’s okay! I need to see you!” He’s screaming outside my door. The desperate sound of it crushes me. When the shouting stops, the silence is almost worse. I don't know what’s going on. The question of whether my dad has let him stay or not is answered the moment Matt comes through the door. His eyes are still stuck with a shocked appearance, but for some crazy reason my dad’s let him through. “Hi,” he speaks softly like I didn't hear all that shouting. “Can I come in?” I contemplate saying no, but I can’t. I nod and keep my mouth shut. He glances back at my dad in the hall and closes the door, leaning against it. “We need to talk.” “Fine. But I’m exhausted and stressed, so can you try to keep the bullshit to a minimum?” “Bullshit?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve been keeping the biggest secret in the world from me, and I’m the one with bull—” he pauses. “Yup.” He’s holding back the beast, but not well. “Thanks.” I hope the unimpressed expression is really flashing across my face. He sits in the chair across the room. His hands fidget but he doesn't say anything. “What do you want?” I ask cruelly. “I want to hear it from your lips,” he says quietly. “I want to hear that you knew you were carrying my baby and you didn't tell me.” “Would it have changed anything?” “Yeah.” He nods. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I don't want you to pick me because there’s a baby, Matt. If you don't want to be with me, I want that decision made honestly.” “I want you. I want you both.” “Now,” I add. “Now and always.” “You have a funny way of showing it.” I glance back at the ceiling, my hands

resting on my stomach. “I thought maybe you would be pissed, but you’d understand I was struggling. I never imagined you were going through this, all alone.” “I was never alone.” I smile, honestly. “I was protected and saved and helped. My mom, Nat, Nadia, Lori have all been amazing friends and family to me. Lori even offered to marry me so I’m not some unwed mother, shunned from society. He offered to raise my baby as his own, never making me worry about it. I haven’t been alone in this yet.” “Seriously? Your baby?” He scowls. “How could I have been there for you? You didn't tell me anything. How could I react to the thing you were suffering from when you didn't tell me you were suffering?” “Are you listening to yourself?” I am dumbfounded. “Your dad treats you like garbage, makes you feel horrible about yourself, leaves you with a giant pile of shit to take care of, and you don't tell me any of it? How was I supposed to know why you didn't love me anymore? I just knew you didn't.” “I have never stopped loving you. But I don't know how to fix what I’ve done.” “You can’t. There’s no more games or tormenting each other, Matt.” His name still hurts me to say. “We’re beyond that. This last four years have been insane and there’s no recovering from what we’ve done to each other in them.” “I want to go back. I want to be strangers again. I want to change how that night ended, the night in the black cab. I want to do it over.” His eyes fill with tears. “I want to go back to the stupid Young Republicans Club that our parents made us go to. I want to be brave enough to approach you and tell you you’re pretty and I like you.” “What are you talking about?” “You don't remember?” It takes a second but the summer I was twelve, the summer my parents made me go to a few of those camps bounces around in my head. “I remember going. I don't remember you.” “That’s because you were Sami Ford and everyone wanted to be your friend.” “You remember me from when we were kids?” “I do. I had a crush on you, forever.” He laughs at himself. “And then I spent years telling myself you were a snob and not worth it. If I’d only known.” His eyes add to the story he’s telling me. “If I’d only known you were the love of my life, just waiting for me.” “Don't.” I fear this, him being sweet and winning me back. “I have to.” He gets up and comes closer. “I need you.” My hands cling to my stomach as I muster strength from the tiny heartbeat. “How did you think this was going play out? You’d treat me like garbage and then win me back and I’d let you back in?” “No.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to buy time. I thought you’d understand how horrible everything was and give me time to figure it all out. But then Natalie made her deal with Brady and I was forced to act before I was ready.” “What?” “When she told him I had forty-eight hours to end things with you or Brady had

to end our friendship.” He glances down, looking ashamed. His words are a knife in my soul. Nat almost broke up with Brady for me? “I wasn't finished settling Dad’s finances so there was no way his will would do what he wanted it to, but I couldn't lose Brady too. I had no one,” his voice cracks. “So I came to your house to tell you what was going on, hoping we would come up with a plan together. We could pretend to be broken up until I got the paperwork settled. But when I got to the beach and you were with Lori—” “He was comforting me,” I sob. “He was letting me cry and telling me he’d marry me to protect me.” “I didn't know that. I thought you’d moved on.” Tears leave his actual eyes. He actually loses a couple of them down his flushed cheeks. “I didn't know you were pregnant.” He rushes me, collapsing on me. His fingers bite in, gripping me. “I’m a fucking idiot.” There is so much pain in my chest I can’t get my breath. The tears are unstoppable. When he finally pulls back, his gaze softens and lowers to my stomach. “This isn’t the reason I’m here. Yes, a baby changes everything. But my love for you is why I’m here. I didn't know your last month and a half has been like this. I hate that you’ve spent this time heartbroken. I don't know how to fix this.” “Matt—” It’s my time to implore him to stop. I can hardly breathe through the tears and sobbing. “I need you to know how much I love you, how big my love for you is. And then I’ll go.” He’s a mess. “I just needed you to know that I thought I could buy time. I thought I could get through the stupid month with grief as my excuse and that you and I were strong enough to outlast that.” “Don't go.” I grasp his hand. He closes his eyes, clutching to me as tears leak down his face. I shuffle over on the hospital bed, making a bit of room. He climbs on, holding me tight to him and kissing the top of my head, breathing me in. He’s become one of those guys. I close my eyes, feeling a bit of everything. I think we fall asleep like this, us holding each other with puffy eyes and swollen hearts. A noise makes me open my eyes. My mother grins wide, her eyes are glossy and she’s holding her hands over her heart. “Mom?” I whisper. “The doctor wants to do another scan. They’re going to let you see this one as they do it.” “We can see?” I smile. “Like an ultrasound?” “Yeah.” She nods. “We were hoping we could all be here for it.” She glances at Matt who starts to stir. “What’s happening?” He rubs his eyes. “The doctor wants to do an ultrasound and we can see it, see the baby.” His eyes widen. “What? Seriously?” He grins but it’s nervous and unsure. He holds me awkwardly as he climbs off, like suddenly I’m fragile.

The desperation that was in his touch is gone, replaced by uncertainty. My dad walks through the door with the doctor. His eyes flicker from me to Matt, a glare rests there until my mom reaches over and takes his hand, squeezing it. “Dr. Zhu, this is Matt Brimley.” I glance at Matt. “I’m the dad.” He beams and offers his meaty hand. Hearing him say that makes my poor battered heart light up, fixing some of the dark spots I didn't think would ever see light again. My mom sniffles a little and my dad wraps an arm around her shoulders. I’ve never really seen them like this before. It’s like the happy ending in a cheesy Hallmark movie. But this isn’t the ending for me. I sigh as they all talk while the doctor gets the machine ready. Matt’s hand slips into mine as we watch the screen for the tiny heartbeat. The goo on my belly feels cool as he moves the weird ultrasound controller over my stomach. The images are weird and totally hard to make out. “There he is.” He points his finger and moves the scanner better so we can see. “This is the heart and this is the face. See his little hand?” “His?” I ask. “Yeah, you told me you wanted to know the sex, well there it is. He’s a he.” Dr. Zhu smiles wide. “Congratulations, you’re having a boy.” “A boy.” I thought for sure I'd have a girl and it would be her and I—just her and I. But the pride and excitement on Matt’s face, combined with the fact I don't think it will be just me and the baby, is the best possible outcome. Matt’s eyes glisten. My dad hugs my mom and then me and then Matt. He’s an emotional mess. “I’m going to be a grandpa!” he tells the doctor like this is news, hugging him as well. “We need to start picking nursery colors and have the painters in. I think one of those tree-house beds is what he needs.” “We can’t choose his bedroom.” My dad scowls. “Not for his bedroom at their house. At ours.” Her eyes light up even more. “For when he comes to stay with us. It gives me a reason to redo that ghastly room upstairs, the one with the rose-colored carpet.” My dad’s scowl changes. “Oh, of course, he’ll come and stay. We’ll have a small person again.” He smiles at me. “I missed too much when you were little. I won’t be making that same mistake.” He squeezes my hand. “Anyway, the baby’s fine. The hemorrhage was nothing serious. I want you to go home tonight, take it easy. Report back if any bleeding occurs. But for now, I think just slow movements and taking it easy should be all that's necessary. Obviously, some activities are off the table for this moment.” He winks, creeping me out until I realize he means sex. “In a couple of weeks when we do your scheduled ultrasound, I’ll decide if this resting is necessary. In the meantime, I’ve taken a good picture here. If you want I can leave it on the screen and you can have a moment alone.” Dr. Zhu points at the computer.

“Oh sweet. Thanks.” He leaves, giving my parents an expectant grin. “Shall we give Mom and Dad a moment?” My mom opens her mouth, I assume to ask to stay, I can see in her eyes, but my dad puts an arm around her shoulders and escorts her out. “Of course.” When the door closes, Matt slumps onto the stool the doctor sat on. “Holy shit.” He swallows hard, staring at the weird alien creature on the screen. “This is real. Are you still feeling like it’s surreal? Are you freaking out?” “No. You missed the first three months of morning sickness. It’s real. Trust me. It tried to kill me.” He doesn’t laugh like I intended him to. He flinches. “I never want to miss another thing.” “I wasn’t trying to guilt you. If you want, I can rehash most of the details for you.” “I’ve seen you puke. I’m good.” “No, I mean like when I first felt him move and when I noticed things change.” “You’ve felt him? Already?” His eyes lose some of the humor. “Really?” “They said it was gas, but I’ve felt gas all along. Last week it was completely different. I felt a fluttering inside me, the strongest movement. It wasn't like gas at all.” “I missed that?” He sighs. “If he wasn't already dead, I’d never forgive my dad.” He clenches his jaw. “Don't hate him.” I have to be the adult in this moment, it sucks. “Hate the fact that again, we didn't speak to each other. We didn't communicate. Had you told me what was going on, or just asked me to wait, I would have. And if I’d told you about the baby, you might have felt safer in the relationship to take the time and not assume I was hooking up with Lori, of all the pucks you know. We’re the worst for just telling the other person what’s going on. We both always act like we’re an island and this pregnancy showed me I’m not.” “You’re right. I should have come to you and told you.” He glances down at my belly. “I almost did. My dad had just finished signing over his whole world to me when you guys arrived. I almost said fuck it and made a run for the room where you were.” “Why didn't you?” “He had a thirty-day guardianship placed over me. His main lawyer had to observe me before completely releasing everything to me. The entire fortune was put in limbo, waiting for me to prove I was done with you and hockey. So I sent that doctor to talk to you. I did the coldest thing I could think of, right in front of the lawyer, hoping he bought it. I thought maybe you’d see it as a sign that I was too upset to see anyone.” “It wasn’t a great way to tell me that. I sort of assumed you just didn’t want me around.” “I was furious with my father. His lawyer’s team had me followed. All my electronics were monitored, as were Brady’s. So I thought I would hurry through the thirty days and get it over with. I did everything I could to prove I was nothing

like what my father thought I was. Except that one Instagram message I sent you.” “What?” “The Instagram message. I used Bev’s phone, sent you a message.” He scowls. “You didn't get it?” “No.” I grab my phone and log in to Instagram. “I have millions of followers. I don't check that shit.” I scroll through the hundreds of messages until I come to the one from Beverly. I click it, wincing when I see a single sentence. I read it aloud, “I’ll love you forever, don't believe anything you hear or see until I contact you. MB.” I lift my gaze. “Seriously? This is what you sent?” “You’re always on Instagram. I assumed you’d see it. I thought maybe you just disregarded it.” “No,” I snap. “I can’t keep up with private messages.” “I didn't know that.” He tries to defend himself. “Okay, messages and lawyers and all the bullshit aside, just tell me one thing: is this whole shit show done? Is it over? Or did you throw caution to the wind coming here?” “Yeah, as of last week. It’s all finished and all the money is currently being put into trusts. I’ve distributed some to my mother to go with her houses, enough to care for her and keep her in the life she’s accustomed to. No one in her family will feel it’s fair, but I don't care. I gave her just enough so she can’t give them any. I’m not responsible for this shit. They can sell houses and stop pretending to be so rich. I set up a trust fund for Tony’s kid. She’ll be taken care of. His widow gets his life insurance which is hefty. But when that runs out, she’ll also have to work or remarry. She’s her family’s problem, not mine, and she’s an adult. I set up trust funds for all my cousins, to make sure they all have enough for school. And so my grandparents can afford a nursing home when they’re ready for one. And then I sold shares in the company.” He grins, wide. “Enough that we are now a traditional board. I’ve changed it so I can monitor the whole thing randomly, as I choose. It’ll run because of the people who actually know what they’re doing, not someone who inherited. And then I donated a huge amount of money to single moms and domestic violence shelters.” “What?” I’m confused. “It just seemed right. Give some of his stupid money away. I was doing exactly what he feared I would.” “Why? Why did you do all of that?” “Revenge. It’s sick and twisted but it really made me feel better. I’m even going back.” His eyes twinkle. “Are you kidding?” “No.” He laughs. “As long as New York will have me, I’m going to play pro. When it’s time to move, I’ll retire and just be with you and our son if you’ll have me back. I don't have to work, obviously, but I want to play.” “Oh my God.” I’m stunned. “Oh my God. Your dad would hate this.” “I know.” He chuckles. “It was my plan from the minute the old man’s heart stopped. My mom’s furious, but she’s got to learn to take care of herself. I’m not being responsible for her. I’m responsible for you.” He leans in and kisses my

cheek and then lowers to my stomach. “And you.” He places a kiss on my ribs, avoiding the gooey stuff. “What does this mean?” My heart’s having a hard time catching up. “It means you and I are going home, to my place tonight. And you’re going to tell me all the things I’ve missed. And then we’re going to Google what activities pregnant couples are allowed to do in the bedroom.” He moves back toward me. “Because this makes me nervous, but I need you. I miss you. I’ve thought about this moment for a long time.” “I take it you missed the doctor forbidding that then? The creepy wink?” “Was that what he was saying was off the table?” He’s visibly crushed. “Yeah.” I wrinkle my nose. “No sexy time. Not to mention, I don't forgive you yet.” “Then we’ll play chess. We have a lot of catching up to do anyway.” “Honestly, I just wanna sleep.” I blink, realizing how tired I am. “Whatever you want. I just want you. I need you.” He kisses my cheek softly. I close my eyes and contemplate thanking God for finally ending the worst spring I’ve ever lived through.

CHAPTER 29

I DON'T COME DOWN TO YOUR WORK

J uly 4, 2016

Natalie Liz sighs, watching through the window as Mike and Lori dunk each other in the deep end of the pool. “They’re like ten-year-olds.” “I know.” I roll my eyes. “Did Sami tell you we’re being showcased in Hello! magazine in the UK?” Liz grins. “Oh my God, no!” Her wedding has become a real highlight in our lives. Thankfully. We needed something good to look forward to. “That’s great news. She must be so pumped.” “Her dad was really excited, the castle being featured and the wedding becoming a thing everyone wants in on. My mom thinks I’m the queen getting married in an English castle and my wedding on the cover of Hello! with celebrity guests.” Her pale face flushes with the obvious happiness. Her eyes dart to Mike again. “What a crazy year.” “I can’t even with this year. If you weren’t getting married, honestly, I don't know what we would have done. Between Sami and Matt and the baby and his dad dying, this has been an awful year to start a business.” “Do we have hot dogs?” Brady comes into the kitchen with a stricken look on his face. “Bev says no hot dogs, just burgers.” There’s a chance he might pout if I say no. So I lie. “No. We don't eat hot dogs.” Liz grins. “Sami says they’re for peasants.” “I am a peasant! How the fuck are we supposed to have a Fourth of July barbecue without hot dogs? They’re the most American food there is. This is bullshit! And none of the stores out here has them. I already looked. It's all fancy food I can’t even spell!” He points at Sami’s fridge. Technically, he points at the picture of Eli, our soon-to-be godchild. It’s not the greatest photo of him, but it’s the only one we have since he’s still just a fetus. It’s one of those creepy 4D baby ultrasounds. I think he reminds me of an alien but I haven’t said it out loud, even though Sami calls him a seed people. “We have hot dogs.” I roll my eyes. “I wanted to see your grown-man BF.”

“Men can’t have bitch fits. We don't have the bitchy part that’s required.” “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves in that.” Matt’s cousin Beverly strolls into the kitchen, giving him a side-glance. “If I recall correctly, the best bitch fit I've ever seen was thrown by you.” She’s so cocky, I adore her. I have a small girl crush on her. Especially the way she casually leans on the fridge and folds her arms over her chest, daring him to come at her. Brady’s face flushes with color but he doesn't say a thing. She’s the only person who makes him like this. “What am I missing?” I have to know. Liz nods along with me. “Nothing.” Brady says it too fast. “Did I ever tell you that Brady was the male cover model of the year last year?” I ask innocently, hoping we can trade dirt on him. Beverly starts to giggle. “No. I feel like I would remember that conversation.” “He was molested, allegedly, in the lineup for drinks. It was almost rape.” I laugh, remembering how scared he looked. “Can men like him really be raped?” She giggles, seeing how far we can push him. “I don't see how it’s possible.” “Look, ladies, if you want to tag team me, we can take this into the guesthouse.” He smirks. My jaw drops but Beverly doesn't skip a beat. “You’d be crying and begging for your mommy in seconds.” She turns and opens the fridge, pulling out the hot dogs and burgers. Sami wanted to have the party catered, but Matt convinced her that hockey players didn't need fancy food. They were here for the beers anyway. One of the camera guys slinks into the kitchen, grinning. “So cameras are gonna run for another hour and then we’re outta here. We got some great shots of everyone being fabulous. We’re going to take paparazzi-style photos for the last part of the party, as if we snipered them from down the beach and then we’ll leak them to TMZ.” “Perfect.” I smile. I give Liz, Brady, and Beverly a forced grin. “Smiles wide and having fun. The cameras are going to roll in here and we need as natural as possible.” “So I can still make fun of him?” Beverly grins back. “Whatever floats your boat.” The camera guy winks at her. She blushes and takes the food out to the grill. “Whoa, you don't think you’re going to grill, do you? That's a man’s job.” Brady follows Beverly from the kitchen to the massive deck out back. The outdoor entertaining area is beautiful with a full lanai kitchen and three grills. It’s perfect for a pool and beach party like this one. Liz and I follow them out too, hoping to catch more of Bev roasting Brady. The entire Rangers team is here. They’ve just finished playing for a couple of months, and all the June preseason games are over with. I, for one, am done with hockey for this season. I’m done with everything though. I’m exhausted. “Bev, you don't even know anything about grilling,” Brady keeps at her, maybe

not realizing the cameras are on him. “I don't recall Providence ever winning any grilling contests.” She cocks her head, adding a little extra to her Southern accent. “I’m a man, it comes naturally to me,” he boasts. “Sort of like how throwing a bitch fit over that girl putting you on her worst dates ever blog comes naturally?” Beverly laughs. “What?” I laugh. “Now I have to hear this.” I hate Brady’s past but this actually sounds funny. The camera guy zooms in. It’s not really the sort of content we like on the show, but the ratings are everything. Brady clenches his jaw. It takes him a second of fire-breathing dragon huffs before he turns to the camera himself. “Back in the day, I was known for certain things.” His eyes dart to me. “Ear muffs.” I flip him off before the camera can catch it. “And girls knew what they were getting into. I never pretended to be anything but a dick to women, they served one purpose.” His eyes land on Beverly who is already giggling. “And grilling meat wasn't one of them.” She rolls her eyes as she lays the meat on the grill. Liz’s face is the brightest I’ve ever seen it, but she still giggles. I, however, lose some of the humor, now seeing where this is going: Brady’s favorite president. “This one girl comes to a game and then the after-party, which are also known for certain things, and we hooked up. I treated her the exact same way I treat all girls”—Brady’s eyes dart back to me—“before I met you.” He’s struggling not to reveal too much. “This girl writes a blog I didn't know about. She purposely dates dudes and then slams them for click bait bullshit to get blog likes and views. So technically she’s a click bait whore.” I grimace but he ignores it. “When I saw said blog post and that I ranked as the number one douchebag of all her dating, I was offended. She acted like I pretended to be something I wasn’t. Everyone called me Mr. Clinton for a reason.” I slap my hand over my eyes, not sure how to stop this. Sami is going to lose her shit. “And unfortunately, this thing here”—he points at Bev—“happened to be in the room with Matty, my best friend, when I Facetimed him, freaking out about what happened. Was it an epic bitch fit, maybe? Am I ashamed of how I treated that girl? Yes.” He leans into the camera. “I should’ve missed her dress and hit her right in the fucking—” I jump up and cover his mouth as he struggles to say eye. Liz and Bev die, instantly, with laughter. The camera guy guts himself, losing it. “Don't.” I shake my head at the camera guy who is quivering with laughter. “I won’t, but I’m going to show the others.” He can’t stop laughing. “I don't care. Don't show anyone else unless Sami confirms you’re allowed.” “What was the blog, Brady?” he asks, still dying. “Dirty Dating Disasters.” Brady laughs. He clearly has no actual shame. His

embarrassment is false. “Fuck man, that was epic.” He reaches out and pounds knuckles with Brady. I cringe as he walks off, still laughing. Beverly gives me a knowing look. “See what I mean? Knuckle draggers.” She shakes her head and closes the lids. “I’m the knuckle dragger and you’re burning the burgers?” He glances at the smoking barbecues. “Too much smoke, Bev.” “Coldwell, I don't come down to where you work, knock the cock outta your mouth, and tell you how to do your job. Don't tell me how to do mine.” She points at the burgers. “This is a Traeger, it needs to smoke a little.” Liz giggles, instantly. Brady’s jaw drops and for the first time in a long time, he’s stunned. I have to keep repeating what she said in my head before I get it. As a huge smile spreads across his face, my eyes widen and Liz backs off, waving her tap-out from the conversation. “I’m stealing that.” Brady points at Bev, offering his knuckles. She pounds them, beaming as he strolls off. “Dude, that was fast.” I can’t believe she just said that. “I’ve been saving that one. I was gonna use it on Matt, but he and Brady are like the same thing, same beast. And now he’ll go use it on Matt in front of everyone, which is better than me using it.” “You and Brady fight like cats and dogs.” “’Cause we’ve never hooked up. Brady’s easy to be around if you take sex out of the equation. But the minute he thinks about banging you, you’re done for. If he wants you, he’ll have you.” She nods at me. “Except with you. He’s different with you. He isn’t trying to bang you. He’s trying to win you.” A slow smile spreads across my face. “I think I’m different with him too. The only fights we ever really have are about Sami and Matt.” “They’re a hot mess. You guys need to stay out of their shit. They don't need the four of you in that relationship. It’s bad enough with just the two of them, soon to be three. I still can’t believe they’re going to have a kid.” She opens the lid and flips the sizzling meat. “You know when you see a couple together and you think to yourself, God I hope this doesn't last?” “Yeah.” I can’t help but agree. “I used to think that about them. She’s so distant and detached and plays all these games. And he’s a moron. And neither one of them is good at letting other people in, so they don't. They both hover outside each other’s hearts, sort of broken all the time. It’s painful to watch.” “Are you a therapist?” I ask, interrupting her genius. “No. Computer programmer.” She grins. “But it doesn't take too much common sense to see that those two aren’t oil and water, they’re vinegar and vinegar, making each other more bitter.” “Yeah.” I can’t fight it, she’s right. “That kid’s either going to be the oil that blends them together and makes this shit show work, or he’s gonna add more vinegar and they’ll break up.” She shrugs.

“We have to wait and see. Gran thinks they’re meant for each other. But she’s still not speaking to Matt. He has to go down there with Sami and prove he hasn't completely fucked up.” “What? Why?” “When she found out about the dirty deal his dad made, she lost her mind. She said love was way more important than money and that his whore mother should have to sell her shit to survive, like other people in that situation. Gran didn't come to her son’s funeral or speak to Matty. He tried to go down there and talk to her, but she wouldn't let him in the house. I had to tell him to get lost.” She sighs. “It’s been a bad couple of months.” “Here too.” I still haven’t recovered. I don't like him. I don't know that I ever will. I get the sense Bev isn’t crazy about Sami. “I can’t believe what they both went through. Finding out she was pregnant the day my uncle died, what kind of horrible karma is that?” “The worst.” “When he and I spoke about it all recently, he sounded better. But then he said he asks her to marry him every day, and every day she turns him down, so who knows?” “It’s still painful to watch.” I chuckle, bitterly. “Are they officially back together yet?” “No.” I scoff. “She doesn't trust him. And I don't think he fully trusts her, not that she did anything to him. Like you said, hovering outside each other’s hearts, sort of broken.” “Well, he did see her with Lori,” Bev defends him. “His own teammate.” “What?” Lori? Holy shit. “Yeah, the day Matt said he had to talk to Sami. He said he was being forced into ending things with her for whatever reason. He came here and she was with Lori. Broke his heart. He thought she’d moved on after only a week.” Oh God. “Oh God. I had no idea.” I swallow hard, not sure what the hell happened, but a little worried that was because of me. I was why he was forced into telling Sami it was over. “I don't know what happened. I know he fucked up and she fucked up and they didn't talk to each other and now they’re stuck. I hope they get past it all.” “I think they will.” “Because they deserve each other?” She cackles. “No one else could keep up with that level of bullshit.” “Precisely.” I chuckle too, catching a glimpse of Matt heading inside. “I’ll be right back.” I follow him to the front room where no one else is. “Matt!” I call out, hurrying to him. “Hey, Nat.” He still doesn't completely meet my gaze. “Can I ask you something?” He cringes but nods. “Sure.” “Is it my fault you broke up with Sami?” He swallows hard, biting his lip and then finally nodding again.

“I forced it, with Brady?” A lump builds in my throat. “Yeah. I couldn't hurt your relationship any more than we already were. Brady was a mess. So I came out here and ended things.” The emotions in his eyes are expressive enough that I can actually see his pain. “And she was with Lori?” She missed that part of the story when she told it to me. “She was. Apparently, she was crying on his shoulder, about me.” He laughs bitterly. “I thought—” “Oh.” I sigh. “So it wasn't that they were—” “No. No, it wasn't. He’s always been a real friend to us both. I just didn't know it.” It’s the most we’ve ever said to each other. “I’m sorry.” My brow knits. “I’m sorry I forced your hand. I didn't know, obviously, what was going on.” “No. How could you? I didn't even really tell my own family.” “Except Bev.” “Yeah.” He scowls. “She’s my sounding board. Keeps me grounded.” He chuckles. “I don't understand your relationship, with Sami.” I blurt it out, not meaning to. “Me either.” He smiles. “I’m sorry for the strain it’s brought to you and Blow Job though.” I hate that name. “It’s okay. We should have tried to separate ourselves from it more.” “You’re both loyal, loyal friends. No one’s better to be our child’s godparents.” He smiles genuinely and I see it, just a little. I see the reason she loves him. It’s those eyes. They tell you a story, the one he isn’t saying. They suck me in, showing me all the truths he hides with his fake indifference and stoic words. “Thanks.” I nod and back away. “See ya outside.” I wave, awkwardly. He does too. We’re weird. We might never be like Sami and Brady, where they can practically snuggle on the couch, making fun of each other. Maybe Sami and Brady are the same, and Matt and I are the same. Maybe we have more in common than we know.

CHAPTER 30

HOVERING OUTSIDE THE HEART

J uly 4, 2016

Sami “That is the tiniest bump I’ve ever seen. How much weight have you gained?” one of the wives asks. They’ve let me into their club now. Carrying Matt’s baby has changed everything for them. They’re actually all really nice now. It’s creepy and of course I don't trust it. This is one of those crowds that can turn on you in an instant. “Thirteen pounds.” I try to calculate. “Yeah. Thirteen or fourteen. But I’m not due till the end of November. I’m not even five months yet. Nineteen weeks this week.” “I was already thirty pounds by five months.” The girl winces. “I was twenty-seven by then,” another girl pipes up. Liz gives me a look, a nervous one, from the side of the pool where she’s hiding in the shade of the pergola. We’re both obviously unsure about these ladies. “I was only seventeen by five months. I did the majority at the end,” a brunette with a bitchy face offers. “You’ll probably be like me and gain it all the last two months.” I have so many things I want to say, but I don't. I get it. Praying for other girls to get fat is what we do. “You all look amazing, so clearly you lost it quickly.” “Took me a year,” the brunette answers. “Me too. But my boobs were never the same again. I had to have them fixed after we finished having kids.” A blonde lady laughs. “Rock in a sock I believe is how Mark described them by accident.” She sounds a little drunk. We all grimace and then try to recover with smiles. Nat strolls over, earning the glares I used to get. I want to kick them all in the face, but I don't. I slap my seat on the lounger. “Come sit by me.” “No.” She sits next to Liz on the huge beanbag chair. “You just want me to rub your shoulders. I’ve done my time.” “Whatever.” I stick my tongue out. “Cameras are done,” Nat says and smiles at everyone. “So we can all go back to being normal.” “I was being normal the entire time.” The brunette gives her a shitty look, one

I’d like to smack off her face. “Cool.” Nat keeps her smile going. These girls don't scare her. They can’t. Nat has spent her entire life in the upper crust of assholish behavior. She’s a Jedi now in the art of tolerance. But I’m not. I take deep breaths, holding it all back. “How’s Bev doing with the barbecue?” I change the subject. I protested that we’d do our own cooking, but no one wanted to let my cook do her job. Brady had a fit over paying someone to do something one of us could do. I think he sort of assumed he would be the one to do it. “Rocking it. Brady just tried her barbecue sauce and he actually moaned a little. It was creepy.” We all laugh. The ladies start discussing the end of season, discussing their fabulous plans, but my gaze drifts across the patio to the pool filled with kids. They’re shouting and playing, with dads throwing them around. My phone buzzes, drawing my gaze away. It’s a text from Nat. You’re making that face. I sigh and text back: I still hate them. They’re gross and loud and annoying. What if he comes out and I still hate kids and I just sort of treat him the way my parents treated me? Stop! You’ll be fine. You have me to tell you when your privilege is showing. I cringe and force a pleasant smile over my lips while I pull on my sunglasses, hiding my eyes. “Hey, Ford!” I turn to see Lori at the edge of the pool. He’s glistening in the sunlight, young, fit, hot, and wet. It’s not awful. At all. Every face on the massive deck, turns and stares with me. “Are the cameras finished?” He has a shitty grin on his face. “No.” I want to lie and tell him they are, but I have a bad feeling about the reason he wants to know. “They’re taking distance photos to sell.” “Oh, like we aren’t being stalked already.” He scoffs. “Why?” I lower my glasses and narrow my gaze. “Like how far are they from the house?” His grin grows. “I don't know? Why?” He giggles a tiny bit and shakes his head. “No reason.” He’s giggling like a little kid. Someone screams and I jerk my head to the right as Natalie goes shooting off the giant beanbag chair and flying into the pool. Lori moves so she doesn't hit him. Brady’s on the beanbag, killing himself laughing. Liz dusts herself off as she gets up from the ground where she leapt at the last second. Natalie surfaces, screaming, “BRADY!” She’s still holding her drenched phone. He gets up and runs for it, but she swims to the edge and climbs out, tearing off after him. Everyone’s laughing, except poor Matt who comes out of the house searching for me. When he sees me, I wave, showing him I’m okay. Between him and my mom

I’m the most guarded human being in the world. He sighs, scowling at Brady. The baby is making the beast lose what little humor he had. I get up, not using my stomach muscles, just like the doctor advised, and walk to him. He’s cold from being inside the house, but it’s almost nice to cool off in his arms. “I’m fine.” “That scream, seriously. It sounded just like you.” “It’s Nat. I suspect Brady is taking a beating right now. He jumped off the pergola onto the beanbag, shooting her into the water.” Matt winces. “He’s an idiot.” “Lori helped.” “They’re both dead.” “Yup.” I sigh. “Did you eat?” He’s already back to worried. “No. I will when I’m hungry. Stop. I’m lucky I’m not four hundred pounds with you and my mom forcing food down my throat every two hours. I’m not hungry. I’m never hungry. I don't get the chance to get hungry.” I’m getting tired of eating. “Okay, I swear, I’ll try to cut back on my worrying.” He nods. “Nagging. The word is ‘nagging.’” I hope I’m expressing the right amount of annoyance. “I know the doctor said everything’s fine, but I still feel like any minute something could go—” “Stop,” I demand. “Kiss me.” He cracks a grin. “Gladly.” He lowers his face to mine, brushing my lips softly with his before whispering, “Marry me,” in a low tone for the hundredth time. “No.” I answer the same thing every time he asks. “Please,” he whispers against my cheek. “Not a chance in hell,” I whisper back. “Take back the ring I got you,” he says between kisses. “No. I never want to see it again.” I grin wide against his kiss. “You’re lucky you’re even here.” I torment him day and night, but never let him out of my sight. Not that I get to leave his sight. The only time I didn’t see him in June was when we was playing, and even then I watched it on TV. He wouldn’t let me come to the games, scared I would frighten the baby with my negativity. He’s driving me insane. “You’re breaking my heart, Sami Ford.” “If I didn't, who would?” I pull back. “My gran, she still isn’t talking to me.” His eyes tell me a story, another sad one. “Awwww, Brimstone. Do you need me to feel sorry for you?” I stick my lower lip out. “No.” He pouts. “Maybe we should go see her. Together.” “Like we're together? You’ll finally admit you love me and we’re a family?”

“No. Never.” I am so in love with him. “We’ll just go together and hang out and have fun and make her see that I’m fine and you’re fine and we’re fine.” “I can’t show my face down there with you pregnant and us not married or engaged.” He backs away. “He’s right,” Bev shouts from the doorway as she helps Nadia carry out the platters of food to the huge tables. “We’re going. We’ll fly you home, Bev. I need to see this Gran.” I say it like it’s final. “You shouldn't fly.” He goes for the saddest excuse ever. “Really? That's all you have?” I laugh in his face. “I’ll see you on the plane, Brimley.” I saunter to the food, suddenly hungry when I smell the burgers. “That meat is cooked all the way, right, Bev?” Matt asks Bev. Her eyes meet mine, hostile and savage for a flash of resentment and then back to him. “Time to pop those balls back out, Matty. You’re kind of being a little bitch.” His fellow players laugh as they come for food. He glares at Bev, flipping her off. “Raw meat’s bad for pregnant ladies.” “He has a point.” The brunette, I have officially decided I don't like, smiles and touches Matt’s beefy arm. “You’re right. It’s on the list of food to avoid.” Her hand stays there far too long. Matt folds his arms with hers coming along for the ride. He gives me a smug grin. “I can’t wait to meet this grandma.” I grin at Bev. “She’s gonna like you.” “We’re going to see Gran?” Brady asks as he hurries through the crowd of us and runs across the yard. Nat comes staggering into the lanai moments later, huffing her breath. “You can’t catch athletes.” I frown and hand her a towel as we walk from the crowd. “We don't exercise. Especially not the way they do.” “You don't have to catch him.” Bev cocks an eyebrow and then glances at Brady, who’s looking too smug for his own good across the pool, and shouts, “We’re going to see Gran tomorrow. You guys in?” “Hells ya, we are.” He nods. Bev winks at Nat. “Trust me, he’ll get his.” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but if anyone can bust Brady’s and Matt’s balls, it’s Bev. She has her masters in ball busting. Nat’s actually taking notes. Lori raises a hand as he towels off. “I’m in on Gran time. Carson said her oldlady pie is amazing.” I cringe as everyone laughs, except Matt. “No, perverts. She bakes pie. Like real pie. Not like ‘warm apple pie.’” He holds two fingers in the air. “Like real food.” “Dude, you’re talking about my grandma!” Bev grimaces. Matt’s stoic and unimpressed, but Nat, Liz, and I are dying. “Whatever, haters. Carson’s gonna wanna come too”—he winks at Matt—“and

not just because of Grannie’s pie.” Matt bursts to life, chasing Lori down and throwing him in the pool, but Lori catches Matt’s hand at the last second, dragging him in too. Everyone continues to laugh at their struggle against each other, dunking and splashing like children. After the meal, and the show, the rest of the evening is relaxed. The closeness of the players is remarkable. They definitely are like brothers. I prefer to hang with them, as usual. Nothing’s changed for me. The kids are annoying. The wives are overly nice, maybe making up for treating me the way they now treat Nat and Liz. As dusk approaches, the guys head for the beach, lighting a fire to drink beer around. The coaches give Mike and a few other players who are being traded, a proper goodbye speech. They welcome back Matt, glad his little time away is over. Everyone has a drink to his dad. In the firelight I notice Matt doesn't drink. He nods as if grateful, but I know him. He won’t drink to his dead father. That makes me sad, even though the man hated me. As the night goes on, I’m exhausted. When the sun sets, I curl up in a blanket on one of the large loungers and wait for the fireworks display. Matt strolls up the beach to me, looking handsome on the dimly lit deck. The reflection of the pool dances across his face as he smiles when he sees me. “You getting sleepy?” “A little.” I nod and move over so he can come and climb on with me. He wraps himself around me and holds me tight in his arms as he places soft kisses on the top of my head. The warmth of him seeps through my clothes, bringing me to life in the strangest way. Not since the limo, when I slapped him and ripped his clothes off, have I felt this way. I turn to face him, sliding a leg up his, running my knee over his groin. He tenses, darting his eyes my way. My fingers slide up his chest to his neck and cheek, running my hands over his whiskers. His hair is messy again. His eyes meet mine, overflowing with need and nerves. He swallows hard, shaking his head. I nod as the first firework explodes, for me it’s in his eyes. It’s purple and I can see it clearly. He reaches over, cupping my cheek in his huge hand. “We can’t,” he whispers. “We can. I asked the doctor. He said everything’s fine and we’re totally back to normal. The spot is completely healed. My ultrasound was great. You were there for it. The tech said it was great.” He runs his hand over the front of me, landing on my stomach. “It makes me nervous.” “We can go slow.”

“That's what makes me nervous. I don't think we can.” He winces. “We are.” I growl, gripping his face a little. He stares me down. “If you don't, someone else will.” I grin. “Fine.” He narrows his gaze. “If you insist.” “I insist.” He lowers his face to mine and kisses softly, spreading my lips with his and grazing my tongue with his. His hands stay on my stomach as everyone cheers and moans over the fireworks. For the second time, we miss the fireworks because we’re too busy making our own. When I reach the point of no return, I break away, murmuring in his ear, “I’ll be waiting for you in bed.” I climb off and saunter into the bedroom to wait for him to say goodbye to all his friends. But sleep takes me long before he gets there.

CHAPTER 31

FEARSOME

J uly 5, 2016

Natalie The plane ride isn’t long but everyone’s tired and a little hungover, except Sami and Matt. Carson eyes up Sami nonstop. He’s been weird since she got pregnant. And she’s been weird with him back. I don't know what’s going on, but I suspect he’s being a dick about the baby. He liked party-animal Sami. He liked having Matt and Sami to himself, separately. I don't think he’s come around to the whole relationship. When we land at Henderson Airport the hot air blasts us all. I grimace as Sami groans, “Oh God, it’s hot here. I forgot about the South in the summer.” “Gran has air conditioning. We’ll be fine.” Bev smiles. Lori wakes up, stretching and grinning at Bev. “We still on for the tour of the town?” She flips him off and walks to the exit as Sami’s attendant gets the door. “Stop hitting on my cousin,” Matt snaps. “It’s better than me hitting on your girlfriend.” He winks at Matt. Matt slugs him in the arm. “Matt has a no-family rule.” Brady grins. “He’s fairly serious about it.” Brady tries to wink at Bev but she just rolls her eyes. When he sees my disgusted face, he laughs and leans in, kissing the side of my head. He pulls back and stares. His eyes get locked on mine for a moment and the humor vanishes. “I love you, Banks,” he mutters. “You know you’re the only girl for me.” I grin my answer back. The camera crew follows us off the plane, taking shots and footage of every second. When we get to the limos we separate, half with one crew and half with the other. Sami and I are in the limo with Bev and the camera guy who always stares at Bev. “Anything I should know before we get there, and before he turns the camera on?” Sami asks.

“She’s old fashioned. She’s going to hate the fact you’re not married or engaged. Matt’s her favorite. She makes everything from scratch and your money won’t impress her. It’ll insult her if you try to pay for things. She’s kinda rude, no filter. Nothing impresses her. She hated my uncle and my aunt. She still hates my aunt.” “Yikes.” I don't know how we’re going to do with Sami and Matt being on the shit list and the grandma being a tyrant. Even the camera guy winces. “Yeah, should be interesting.” Bev grins. When we get onto the interstate, it’s smaller than the ones we’re used to. We don't stay on it long. Then we drive past some fairgrounds and fields, loads of fields. “Where the fuck are we?” the camera guy mutters. “No doubt.” Sami leans forward. Her cool exterior is gone. She’s worried, as am I. We drive by Henderson signs everywhere. Brady told me about his being down here. In his stories Matt’s grandma sounded nice. I don't know what to believe. We drive through town, if you can call it that, past tiny houses and shittylooking buildings. There’s no city in this city. When we leave town, I get worried. “He doesn't live in the town part?” Bev grins. “Oh, you city folk are about to see some country.” She chuckles and it’s evil. Just as she says it, we drive past a parking lot to some buildings and every vehicle is a pickup truck. “This is Deliverance country.” Bev waggles her eyebrows at the camera guy. He swallows hard. When we finally turn, we leave the pavement, headed down a dirt road. The camera guy looks like he might cry. We pass horses and cows and fields until finally we arrive at a large white house, not large in Sami’s world, but compared to the rest of the houses we’ve seen, this one’s huge. A brunette comes out, waving at the limos. She’s followed by others, all of them younger. Older men come strolling out of the barn, wiping hands on filthy rags. Every one’s wearing jeans and tee shirts and baseball caps in this heat. Bev jumps out when the limo stops, smiling and waving. “Hey, y’all.” She throws on a thicker accent when she sees them. They wait, staring, not greeting us or her. The camera guy gets out, filming, but I can see he doesn't want to. I step out before Sami, feeling like I ate a beating heart and it’s lodged in my throat. I take several deep breaths as Sami climbs out, pulling off her sunglasses and smiling. She’s offering the winning Ford family smile. It’s honestly the best feature she has. “Hi.” She waves at the gathered crowd. No one speaks. Thankfully, the second limo pulls up. Matt and Brady jump out, all charm and happiness. The crowd shouts, rushing them, and leaving us here to stand awkwardly. The camera guy kills it, watching us both look uncomfortable.

When Carson climbs out, he fixes his hair and puts on sunglasses, but his indifference fades the moment they attack. Lori gets out of the car last, beaming and taking in deep lungfuls of fresh air. He suits this place, perfectly. He fits in straightaway, shaking hands and hugging girls and kids. I sense we landed in an episode of whatever hillbilly fucking TV show is currently exciting. My heart is pounding as an older man comes along, grinning wide. “You must be Sami,” he says to me. I shake my head. “No. I’m Natalie. It’s lovely to meet you.” I offer a hand. He cringes when he glances at Sami, swallowing the lump in his throat and offering her a hand and a weird smile. “Hi. I’m Matty’s grandpa, Marv.” She takes his hand, not even glancing down at the dirty callused mitt she’s holding. I know that was hard for her. “You two sure are pretty.” He shakes his head. “Like being near them girls on the magazines.” He grins at Bev. “Maybe they could show you a thing or two about some makeup, get you a feller.” Oh God. Bev scoffs. “Like I want some guy bringing me nothing but trouble.” She shakes her head and saunters off, abandoning us. Another old man offers his hand, taking his hat off. “Nice to meet y’all. I’m Uncle Sonny. Matty’s dad was my brother.” He points at a brunette. “That pretty girl there, is my Harriette. She’s Matty’s first cousin. Next to her is Erwin, Matty’s other first cousin. His mom’s Aunty Amanda-May, she’s not here right now. She’s my sister.” Sami looks like she might panic any second but Matt slides into the conversation, slipping an arm around her stiff waist. “This is Sami Ford, Gramps.” He smiles wide. Brady comes and bear hugs the older man. This is the most intense thing I’ve ever seen. They’re so happy and normal and weirdly not like Matt. But since we landed, Matt’s not like Matt. He’s smiling wide and joyful. An older lady comes to the porch door. She glares at Matt. Everyone becomes silent, like she’s the tyrant Bev described. “Beverly, now you bring those young ladies up in here for some sweet tea.” She points at Matt. “You don't dare darken my door, young man. I got nothing to say to you.” Her stare is fierce. She’s absolutely the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. “And don't you dare let them cameramen come in my house with that camera rolling. I’ll snap it off on someone’s face.” “Yes, ma’am.” Matt nods, giving his gramps a nudge. “You need some help in the barn, since I can’t go inside?” “We got plenty of work and beer.” Gramps wraps an arm around his shoulders. Fearsome. It’s the word rolling around in my mind when Bev drags us into the house. I glance back at Brady but he just smirks and winks. Matt glances back at us. His

eyes are doing that thing again where they betray the emotions he’s attempting to hide. I actually feel a bit bad for him, even if he is a dick. When we get inside, the old lady’s already in the kitchen. She shouts, “Come on inside.” Bev grins at us and heads in. Sami grabs my hand, gripping tight for a moment. We don't speak, our eyes have a conversation. I try to tell her it’s going to be okay while she panics but I’m panicking too. The house is country rustic, everything Sami hates in a place. But here it’s cute, like it suits the views from the huge windows. The kitchen’s white and crisp and full. There’s appliances and tins and bowls and fruit and baking and tea and everything everywhere. It looks just like an old kitchen should. She pours us some glasses of tea and stares us down. My hands shake when I take mine and when I try to take a drink my throat closes, certain there’s poison or something. Sami doesn't appear to be faring any better. “So you are the almighty Miss Sami Ford?” She eyes us up like a hawk would a mouse. “I am.” Sami sounds strong. “And what do your folks think of him knocking you up and not marrying you?” She tilts her head. “My father’s angry and my mother believes we will be married soon enough.” Sami doesn't cop attitude. I almost want to get her a trophy for this moment. She’s a superstar. “And how far along is this baby?” “Just about five months.” “You look some skinny for five months.” “I was skinny to start.” Her voice wavers; I mean, she’s only human so of course it does. “Are you one of those vegetarians?” “No.” “Well, that's good.” She gives Sami that one. Her eyes dart to Beverly. “Why did you bring him here? I don't wanna see him.” “She wanted to meet you.” Bev sells Sami down the river. “Lord love a duck, child. Why on earth do you want to meet some old woman?” “You’re everything to him.” Sami says the most profound thing I think she’s ever said. The old woman’s eyes well. She clears her throat and pours herself another glass of sweet tea. Bev nods as if that one was a win. “Do you want to see?” Sami asks softly. “The baby?” “Well shoot, of course I do.” The old lady wipes her eyes and hurries over as Sami opens her purse and pulls out a small picture of Eli. “We’re going to name

him Elijah Anthony Johnson Ford Brimley.” “That's a lot names for one little boy.” Gran tries to sound hard but the huge grin on her face and tears in her eyes kill the venom. I almost pee myself twice but we survive the first meeting.

CHAPTER 32

A DO OVER FOR EVERYONE

J uly 6, 2016

Sami When I wake up, I shiver, realizing I’m sideways on the bed and the covers are on the floor. My left leg is off the other side. I’m so used to his foot being there that I must have spent the entire night searching for him. The old mattress and me groan as I get up. It’s given me a crook in my back. A knock at the door interrupts my silent agony. “Come in.” I’m prepared for Nadia to come in with vitamins and water and lectures about eating early enough. But it’s Matt’s scary-ass grandma. She smiles, or at least attempts it. “I didn't want to wake you, but I thought I heard some movement so I took a chance.” “I was awake.” “Good.” She paces in front of the window as she opens the curtains for me, sending dust into the morning light. “Did you sleep well?” “I did. Thank you.” It’s a harmless lie, the kind Nat always tells. I can’t even move one of my shoulders at this point. “Do you love him?” She scowls. The question makes me uncomfortable, but she’s like a mom to him. “I do.” “Not the way your kind of people love, but—” “No.” I shake my head. “My parents don't like him anymore than his parents liked me.” I take a breath and struggle through the rest of the sentence. “It’s been an uphill battle for us both. There’s no benefit marrying him. He’s a disappointment to people like me.” “What about to you?” “He’s been a disappointment to me.” Tears threaten with a lump in my throat. “When he tried to become someone he wasn't.” Tears floor her eyes and wrinkled face. “I’ve never spent a single day ashamed of Matty. But the minute his awful father left him with that horrible will, I couldn't believe he would take it, that deal.” My fingers ache from how hard I’m clinging to the bed. “I don't blame you if you don't want to be with him. I don't blame you at all.

You’re a strong young woman—you came here. That tells me you’re not as awful as everyone says you are. You can raise this baby without him.” “I know.” I nod, trying not to be offended by the awful part of the story. “I intended to.” The tears work their way up, making it hard to breathe. “But I love him.” “Can you forgive him?” “Can you?” I ask back. “If you do, then I will. But you must really forgive him. You have to assure me this baby won’t be some burden to a horrible relationship, not like Matty and Tony were to their parents.” “He won’t.” This conversation might kill me but I know I’ll forgive Matt. “I believe you.” She wipes her face again with her shaky hand. “Thank you.” She turns and leaves the room as abruptly as she came into it. Her footsteps on the stairs are as noisy as is the back door when she slams it. I jump up and hurry to my window to catch a glimpse of her walking to the barn. Matt’s already up, sitting on a bench with Lori and his grandpa. His face pales as his grandma approaches. Lori and Gramps get up, fleeing for the safety of the barn, as Matt stands up. His grandma puts her hands on her hips, shaking her head. He nods. I can almost hear the “yes, ma’am” coming out of him. His eyes are low as she berates him, giving it to him. I crack the window quietly, just catching the end of her speech. “Now I didn't spend the last quarter century raising you like a proper gentleman to have you go back up North to start acting like some entitled little shit.” “No, ma’am.” “Give Grannie a hug and tell me what your plans are for that girl!” she snaps. He raises his head, smiling at her. He wraps his arms around her, hugging tight. I can almost see him as a little boy, doing the same thing. I press my lips together, happy to see him earning her back. My door opens just as the tears start to form in my eyes. “Sami?” Carson comes in, looking tired and dressed down for him. “Hey.” “Can we start over?” “What?” I’m lost. “Just play along. Tell me about the baby again.” “I can’t,” I groan. “Carson, I’m not playing. Matt’s grandma is hugging him and forgiving him, and she and I just talked and I feel light-headed.” “Oh my God, Sami.” His eyes widen, filled with emotions. “You’re pregnant?” He sounds shocked and disregards what I just said. “That's crazy.” He walks closer. “I hope you know that I’m here for you, whatever you decide. Because you’re my best friend.” I cry. I can’t help it. It isn’t all him, some of it is. “I’m a dick.” He doesn't cry but the pain in his eyes is evident. “But I love you. And I want you to be happy. And if Brimstone makes you happy, even if I don't think he does, then I’m happy for you.”

“Why does everyone think he doesn't make me happy?” I wipe my eyes and let Carson hug me. “Because you always look so sad and you never seem in love. Relaxed and in love.” “I don't know how to be that.” I pull back, giving him a scowl. “Do you? You don't look so in love. You look the same, not like Nat and Brady or Liz and Mike. You look like normal, just sort of frozen.” “That's how I feel. Frozen.” A smile creeps across his lips. “Rich doesn't. He’s like one of them.” He points out the window. “He’s such a rebel that he’s real. He honestly doesn't give half a shit about the rest of the world or their opinions. Last week he told his mom she needed to get laid. I laughed, out loud, right in front of her.” He laughs now. As he speaks of Rich I see it, the love in him. It’s a twinkle in his eyes, and not the normal shitty one. It’s something else. “One thing I don't feel frozen about though, is this: I shouldn't have said what I did. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.” “It’s creepy seeing you this serious. Can we not do this anymore?” I grin. “Yes, please. Let’s never get too serious again.” I hug him again. “If you and Matt ever decide you need a threesome to spice things up, can I just put my name in there now?” he mutters and something clicks inside me. It wasn't ever me. “Yeah,” I lie. Carson wasn't in love with me. Or sad because I got a boyfriend. He was hung up on Matt. “Okay, good talk.” He pats me on the back and leaves. “Don't dress too nicely. I don't want to get robbed when we go line dancing at that barn party.” “What?” He glances back in the doorway, flashing that shitty twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, they never told you?” He laughs. “Classic.” “What do you mean?” I hurry forward, although he’s already running down the stairs. “Carson!” I shout but he just cackles like an evil gay witch. “Asshole.” Natalie opens her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes. “What’s up?” “We’re going to a barn party?” “It’s something they do down here. They get drunk in barns. It sounds like fun.” She nods. “Go back to bed,” she whispers like we’re sneaking. “It’s time to get up. The rest of the farm is,” I snap and go back into my room to get some proper clothes on. A knock on the door interrupts me as I’m just putting on my shirt. “Just a second.” The door opens, making me part my lips to shout, assuming it’s Carson again. But Matt slips in and closes the door. He lifts a finger to his lips. “She doesn’t let unmarried people sleep together.” “Brady and Nat are sleeping in the other room.” “What?” He spins, glaring. “Horseshit! She always says no. Friggin’ Brady.”

“I saw you guys make up, you and your grandma.” He spins back, losing his spicy expression. “That's why I’m here. I wanted to say thanks. You did something. I know it. She likes you.” “She’s scary.” I nod. “That's a scary woman. I feel like you didn't prepare me emotionally for this, at all.” “How do I prepare you? You met her. She’s a tyrant.” He strolls over, sweeping me into his arms and kissing me with fervor and emotion. “Marry me,” he mutters into our lips. “No.” I grin back. “Seriously, marry me.” He pulls back, hope filling his face as I stay silent for a moment. “Beast, you took me to the most magical place in the entire world to ask me to date you. You think just because I’m already knocked up I’m going to settle for less than that when it comes to marriage?” “Oh.” He loses all his hope. “I never thought of it like that. I assumed we were passed all that cheesy love story stuff.” His eyes lower to my belly. “I mean, you’re —” “No.” I push him away and fold my arms over my massive chest. “Not a chance. In fact, I’d say you have set the bar quite high. So the second act, the real proposal, needs to be fairly spectacular.” “Shit.” He bites his lip and breathes out the side of his mouth. “I sort of blew my load on the first one. I mean, that was it.” He steps back, holding his arms out like I should take in all the glory that he is. “Can’t you just take me as I am?” “No.” I sneer and grab my purse and cell phone. “Not a chance.” I slide past him, leaving him in the room on his own. Breakfast in the South is my new favorite thing, ever. His grandma makes pancakes, waffles, fresh apple butter, eggs, sausages, bacon, and hash browns. Everything has a million calories and a ton of fat and I don't care. It’s a vacation from my real life. “I think I need to massage my arteries to stop myself from stroking,” Nat mutters, undoing her shorts. Brady pulls on his shorts and shows us his stretchy waistband. “The only way, down here.” Lori grins wide and pulls his pants out too, showing us his are part spandex. Carson cringes. “They’re dressed like they might go jogging and you’re undoing your pants? Wow. Too bad the cameras aren’t allowed in the house.” The camera guy undoes his pants. “No one wants to see this.” I wipe some sweat off my brow as I finish the last bite. “I’ve never seen you eat that much.” Matt cocks an eyebrow. “Maybe I was hungrier because no one was trying to force feed me.” Everyone else sits frozen but Matt laughs bitterly. “Oh, princess, you need force feeding. Our kid would have come out looking like a tortilla chip if we just left you to your own devices. Pasta, chips, nachos, pizza, and martinis aren’t good for you.” “Whatever. I never drink and I always eat fruit and veg.” His gran gives me a stern look from over her glasses. “You don't let him tell you

what to eat.” “She doesn't.” He sits back, sighing. “She doesn't listen to anything anyone says.” “Lies. I eat all that kale and those gross omega eggs. I eat all the stuff he makes me.” He purses his lips. “What were you eating last week when I came out of the building?” “What?” I play dumb. I didn't know he’d seen me. “What was it?” “Hot dog with sauerkraut and sautéed onions.” I say it defiantly. “And then what happened?” He’s smug. So smug. “That wasn't from that.” He turns to his gran and nods. “She threw up everywhere and then got heartburn for hours. She slept upright.” “Just means the baby has hair, not that hot dogs are bad.” His gran says it matter-of-factly. “See!” I point. “I told you that's what it means.” Matt laughs, tilting his head back. “God, help me.” “Don't bother asking him for help. You didn't ask his permission before you went and did things no unmarried man has the right to do.” His gran laughs at him. Bev comes strolling in at that exact moment. “Why does Matty look like he might have a carrot in his ass?” “Don't say ‘ass,’” Gran scolds. “Because he does.” Matt glances at Lori, Carson, and Brady. “No help?” “I don't side against Gran.” Brady holds his hands up. “Me either,” Lori says over a huge bite of sausage. Carson looks at me. “I don’t side against Sami.” “Okay, well I’m gonna go help Gramps. He at least pretends to agree with me.” Matt gets up, chuckling bitterly. “Take your plate!” Gran shouts, making us all laugh harder. The whole day is spent busting Matt’s ass over every tiny detail. Later, when I’m exhausted and walking up the stairs for a nap, he catches my hand. “Want me to come tuck you in?” “Yeah.” I sneak up the stairs quietly. It isn’t that I think we’re fooling his gran, but I don't want to be outright disrespectful. In the room, he closes the door and leans against it. “I love you.” “I know.” I scowl. “You okay?” “Yeah. This whole visit was a good idea, and I wanted to tell you that you were right to come here.” “Sucking up will get you nowhere.” I pull off my clothes and climb into the bed. “Whoa.” His eyes widen. I glance down at my belly where he’s staring. “Whoa.” It’s popped out in the last day. “I think it’s all the extra breakfast.” “I think it’s sexy.” He sounds confused by the statement. “I don't.” I lie on my side in the blankets. “And I think this bed is trying to kill

me.” “Yeah, it was mine when I was little. It’s awful.” He climbs on and wraps himself around me. “God, I missed you last night.” He leans in, smelling my neck and placing a soft kiss. “I missed you too.” I turn over, staring at him and kissing his nose. “I want to start over.” What Carson said to me is bugging me. “I want to let you in and be whole again.” “I want that too.” “Last night I was sleeping and all night I dragged myself across the bed, feeling for you. I ended up sleeping sideways because I couldn't find you in the bed.” “You did?” He smiles. “I did.” I wrap my leg into his. “I want you to move in, to the Hampton house. I want to be there permanently. Me and you. And I want to decorate the baby’s room.” He sighs, snuggling into me. “And reveal on the cameras?” “Yeah.” “You’ll live with me but you won’t marry me?” He cocks an eyebrow. His eyes are filled with hurt. “You haven’t asked me right.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my ring, the one I gave him back, and lifts it up so we can both see it. “I have done everything wrong throughout the entirety of us knowing each other. I was in love with you when we met, and I should have been upfront about it. I should have told you how big it was. How certain I was of who you were to my heart. I should have made certain that from the moment we met, you never doubted how I felt.” He pauses and my heart feels like it’s going to explode. I hold my breath as he stares at the ring and then me. When he speaks his eyes and lips speak the same story. “Sami, I’m so in love with you, I don't even know what to do with it. When I took you to the hilltop altar, I intended to propose and I got scared. I got scared you would be the one with the common sense in this and see it was too soon. And we weren’t enough yet. I wasn’t enough. I chickened out and went with my backup plan. And now, here in the bedroom where I grew up, where I feel the safest in the entire world, I am giving my heart. This ring was never nothing. It was never fake. It was always as real as my love and intentions, I just didn't want to scare you. And my love hasn't changed, only gotten stronger. Something I suspect it will do for the rest of my life.” “Yes,” I whisper. It’s all I can say. It’s all I have. My chest is a rock, frozen in tense emotion. My stomach aches with the tears lodged in my throat, burning each breath. “Yes?” He blinks, confused. “Yes.” I hold out my left hand, letting him put the ring on my finger. It feels weird on this hand, it means so much more. His eyes widen and he kisses my hand, my face, my lips, my forehead. He’s lost his mind. I stare at the ring and wonder how it’s possible we still ended up here, getting

engaged on a shitty mattress in a farmhouse with his grandma probably listening at the door. “I love you. I love you so much.” He’s still freaking out. “I’m not getting married fat. Or pregnant.” I finally manage to speak almost normally after swallowing it all down. “Okay.” He laughs and kisses me again. We sigh at the exact same moment, fading into each other.

CHAPTER 33

SUGAR MOMMA

J uly 6, 2016

Natalie The barn is stuffed with people. “This place is terrifying,” Sami shouts at me over her drink of water. “They all know how to dance. It’s like a TV show or a movie where they can all do this dance like they've been practicing.” Matt, who’s different down here, struts over to Sami. “Come on.” He takes her hand and I catch the sparkly ring on it. It’s the one from before but it’s on the left hand now. He drags her away before I can say something. I turn to Brady who’s laughing with Carson at Lori dancing with some girl. “Did Matt propose to Sami?” “I don't know.” He shrugs. Carson does the same. When the song ends, everyone stands and waits for the next one. Sami gives me a nervous grimace. It makes me laugh to see her on a dance floor like this. “She’s gonna die.” “No way, man. Matt’s an amazing dancer.” Brady sips his beer. “Betcha didn't know that.” “I didn’t.” I scowl and watch as the song comes to life. It’s upbeat and fastpaced. I expect Sami to fall, but instead, she twirls and slides to the side, being danced across the floor. Matt controls the entire dance. It’s actually quite hot to see. “Can you dance?” I ask Brady. “Fuck yeah.” He grabs my arm and drags me to the floor before I’m ready for it. He spins me, forcing my body to move in ways I didn't know were possible. His hand slides into my back, and the other takes my hand, pausing us, and then shooting us across the floor too. Everyone spins and dances, jerking to a stop and then twirling and waltzing in this odd way. It’s unnatural and I feel like I might fall but I don't. I dance to the song the way Brady makes me do it. It takes me two songs before I’m laughing and enjoying myself. Sami’s already there as Matt sweeps her around, getting her to dance impeccably. Our dance lessons from when we were kids definitely help. I know how to waltz, which this is essentially that.

Brady’s a two-stepping god too. When the fourth song ends and he spins me and pulls me into his arms, I sigh. The next song is slower. He holds me tight to him, dancing slowly and catching his breath. “You gonna be all right if they’re engaged again?” He has a worried and inquisitive brow. “Yes.” I say it meaner than I intend to. “I mean, of course.” I sigh. “I think so.” “I love you.” He laughs and holds me to him. “Just stop worrying about her. She’s an adult. I’ve never met friends who meddle in each other lives the way you and Sami do.” I part my lips to defend us but I can’t. “Don’t even.” He laughs, lowering his face to mine and kissing softly. “You know it’s true.” “I know.” When I glance their way, Sami and Matt are slow dancing too. She’s got her eyes closed and is resting against him. The look on her face says it all. I don't think I need to worry about her anymore. Whatever coming down here meant to them, it’s fixed things. “Hey, so speaking of you and Sami, is the condo you bought done?” Brady asks. “Yeah, why?” “I was thinking we could move there, instead of paying rent to someone else, we could live there and pay your mortgage.” “There’s no mortgage.” I laugh. “The company just bought it for me.” “Okay, then we just save money.” He’s so blue collar. “While I love that you want to be that guy who lives in the kinda crappy area and saves money, I don’t want to live there.” “What?” He scowls. “I don't. It’s not near the park or Sami and I don't like the building. It’s good enough for the show but—” “Holy shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re a rich snob.” “No.” I want to defend myself, but again, I can’t. “It’s not like that.” “Holy shit. I never imagined you were actually a little princess. But you are.” “Then I guess it’s lucky I make my own money, so you still have to respect me.” I challenge him. He laughs. “I guess I do.” “And since I now make more money than you, I think you might have to call me Sugar Momma and do whatever Sugar Momma wants.” His eyes narrow. “Do you know how much I make?” “Yup.” I grab his hand and pull him off the dance floor to the side exit of the barn. “Nat! Where are we going?” he shouts. “Shhhhh.” I lift a finger to my lips and drag him out into the parking lot. I open the door to the limo and climb in. “Nat?” He climbs in too, giving me a confused smile. “Baby?” I don't say a word. I just sit back, pulling my dress off, revealing a matching red

lacy strapless bra and underwear set. I fold my right leg over my left, keeping my heels on. He gulps, closing the door. “I see. Do I seriously have to call you Sugar Momma?” “No.” I uncross my legs, spreading them for him. “It’s creepy. It sounded fine in there with the hillbilly music, but here it’s weird.” He locks the door to the limo and presses the lock on the partition between the driver and us and checks the sound. “The drivers are in the barn.” I grin. “Well then.” He leans toward me, leering at my bra. “This is a nice set. It must be new.” “It is.” I lick my lips. “Pity I have to ruin it.” He springs to life, crossing the space between us and running his warm hands up my thighs. He doesn't trace gently or linger. He slides his fingers straight up into my underwear, yanking them to the side and burying his face between my legs. I moan as his lips land on me, covering me in heat as he sucks my clit into his mouth. He slides a finger into me, slowly until I move against him. The music from the barn is loud enough that his fingers move to the beat of the drums. I arch my back as his mouth leaves my underwear and moves up my stomach to my bra. He drags it down aggressively, freeing my nipples. His finger going in and out of me keeps up with the beat of the song as he sucks in one of my nipples, doing laps over it with his tongue while his other hand rubs my other one. It’s intense and fast, but I orgasm before I’m even ready for it. He doesn’t let me recover. He unzips and slides his cock into me roughly, forcing my ankles up to his shoulders so he can use them as leverage. He thrusts in, grunting and rotating his hips. I cling to the seat, lifting to meet his drives. “God damn!” He groans, sitting back and pulling me with him so I’m riding him on the opposite seat. He grabs my ass, working his cock with me. I sit back as he takes my nipple back in his mouth, delicately biting the end, making me groan with him. I slump forward, which he takes as the cue to smack my ass. It’s never quite hard enough, but I like it when he does spank me as he forces me to bounce off his balls with his thrusts, until he finishes with a cry and several violent jerks. We fuck. It’s almost never soft and delicate, and always savage and aggressive. It’s not something I want to talk about; he calls it a freak flag. I don't want to think about it. But in the sweaty heap, we both become, huffing breath and clinging to each other, I know he’s the first person I’ve ever felt this comfortable with. We cling to one another, finishing in gentle rocks. “God, I love you,” he mutters weakly. “You do?” I ask softly.

“With my entire heart and soul.” It’s as cheesy as he gets, which I like. No, I love.

CHAPTER 34

FIRE AND BRIMSTONE

A ugust 26, 2016

Sami Wandering the halls of the castle, I notice a slight ache in my right hip. It’s been bugging me for a couple of days, since the flight over. “So I was wondering, when you do eventually pick a date, will you take my last name?” Matt nudges me softly. “Oh my God, why do you have to keep asking me these random questions?” I huff my breath. “Because I love you and I want to send Christmas cards that are cheesy and say things like ‘The Brimley’s,’ instead of the Ford Brimley’s or Sami and Matt who can’t actually pick a name.” “Christmas cards?” I stop and stare at him, lost. “Dude, remember when Liz said it was time to pop your balls back out? This is that moment.” He sighs impatiently. “I have to have something for the corporate Christmas cards, Sami. My balls, which are hard and blue, are perfectly fine. Apart from the fact they’re constantly getting iced to stop the throbbing. “I told you I want to do it.” I can’t believe this is the conversation we're having in the middle of my parents’ castle as I’m inspecting the final details for the wedding in a few hours. “I can’t. I thought I could but I can’t. It’ll be like I’m touching the baby with my —I can’t.” He shudders and I roll my eyes. “Oh my God, this conversation is getting redundant. I won’t have this conversation with you again. The doctor told you, you don’t actually touch the baby.” I spin and give him an angry glare. “And I am done with you not putting out.” He laughs and scoops me into his arms, carefully. The way he does everything. He kisses my neck and takes a deep breath. “Since we’re already sort of fighting, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s not negotiable. It’s getting done.” “What?” I glance at him. “When he’s old enough I want him to go to Gran’s and work the farm.” “Oh.” I pause, not sure if I agree or not. “Why?” “It makes a man out of you. No offense, but I don't want my son to grow up to be

Carson or William. The whole socialite thing is not awesome.” “Okay.” I contemplate it again. “I guess, yeah. I don't really care, but you have to go too. You can’t just send our city kid to a farm and hope he lives. That machinery was intense.” “I will.” His tone suggests he’s less than impressed by the comment. “Speaking of Carson,” I pause in the hall and lower my voice, “how long has he been in love with you?” His cheeks flush and his eyes widen. “A while.” He doesn't deny it. “Did something happen between you guys?” “Yeah,” he replies like it’s the hardest thing for him to say. My insides tighten as he recoils a little. “He tried to make out with me once. I was drunk as fuck and sort of hit him.” He glances down, ashamed. “I apologized but I felt really bad for a long time.” “When?” “We were fifteen. Maybe.” “Is that when you got the name Brimstone? Hitting him?” He laughs. “No.” He covers his eyes and tilts his head back. “Charles called me that when I was a kid. I used to force him to take me to fun places. All these road trips to random places. Like Tarrytown and weird historical spots.” “Tarrytown?” I mock him until he gets the stoic expression again. “Sorry, continue.” “Anyway, I have a bit of an irritable bowel. I can’t handle fast food. We didn't know. So we’d do regular guy things, like hit McDonald’s and Burger King. And I’d eat all this junk before we had to go home. And we’d be like hours from home and I would start feeling sick. My stomach would tighten and I’d fart the entire ride home. So Charles nicknamed me Brimstone. I always smelled like rotten eggs. The first time the guys heard him call me that, they laughed and the name stuck. I don't think any of them even know the story.” “Farting? This is like finding out Santa’s not real. I had all these stories in my mind, why Brimstone. I’d romanticized it a little, obviously. But farting?” “Yeah.” He laughs harder. “It’s dumb.” “It’s disgusting.” “What? I can’t help it. My stomach doesn’t tolerate fast food.” He pulls me in and kisses me. The problem with going half the year not having sex is that the kiss always ends up being too much. I slam him into the wood paneling and force my tongue down his throat. But he doesn't stop me. He pulls me into him, surrounding me with his body. I spin, dragging him with me. He doesn't protest as we enter my mother’s old parlor room that she had redone in traditional style. The dank castle isn’t normally how I like to spend my time in England, but it’s a perfect wedding site for people who don't know castles are stinky and haunted and damp. His eyes are wide, desperate and scared at the same time. I don't care how scared he is. I need him. I close the door and click the old-fashioned lock.

“It’s just us and the ghosts,” I whisper. His lips part to negotiate, I can see it all over his face. But he doesn't. He sighs. “We go slow. You on top.” “Fine, but you're a pussy.” “Noted.” He rushes me, cupping my face and kissing me with six months’ worth of desperation. My movements are violent and hurried but he counters with soft and sweet. I rip his shirt right off. He drags mine down slightly, kissing my shoulder. I go to my knees, dragging down his pants and eagerly wrapping my hand around his cock, taking as much into my mouth as I can, he gently rubs my head, running his hands through my hair. When he finally starts thrusting, and pulling at my hair a little, I get up, pushing him back to the sofa. He lands bare assed on the velvet, making me laugh. “My mom would have a stroke if she saw this.” I drag down my underwear, not even taking off my shirt or skirt, and straddle him. His hands run my thighs, brushing against the skin, leaving fiery trails where he touches. I kiss him, distracting from the fact I’m rushing, I’m needy. I’ve been a horny mess for two months, but he won’t even let me near him. Until now. I don't know what’s changed, but I almost thank God as the head of his cock spreads my lips apart. He inhales sharply as I do when I lower down on him, taking it slowly, one inch at a time. I go as far as I can, realizing I’m as nervous as he is when our eyes meet. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes lit up and scorching. “Yeah.” “Okay.” He starts to rock slowly, watching me for reactions. I ignore his eyes, lowering my hand to my clit, rubbing it as I ride, taking all of him. It’s a lot—there’s no denying the pressure of him inside me is a lot—but it’s not too much. His hands eventually leave my hips, lifting and weighing my breasts. They’re more than he can hold now, slowly becoming porno boobs. I speed up, rotating and breathing heavily into the rocking motion. He lifts me and thrusts a little. I orgasm into him, lowering my head and groaning into his bare shoulder as he gives me a quarter of what he can. When he comes, he jerks gently. “Oh my God, we did it,” he whispers as he finishes. “I like you better as a beast,” I moan and sigh. “When this is over, and you’re healed up, we’re getting a hotel room so he can’t hear the screaming, and I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think straight.” “You’re an idiot. He’s a baby. He won’t remember the screaming.” “Not the point.” He kisses my neck and shoulders. “I love you, so much.” I sit back, still full of him in every way, and grin. “I love you too.” “Mine.” He pulls me in for another kiss.

CHAPTER 35

THE WEDDING DAY

A ugust 26, 2016

Natalie Liz cries for the eight hundredth time as we hurry to the entrance to the garden. “I can’t believe this. I just need to thank Sami one more time.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes delicately. “No. Don't. You’re going to annoy her if you keep thanking her.” I regret saying it with the cameras on us, but it’s true. Her sister wraps an arm around her shoulder and air kisses her cheek. “It’s fine. You've said thank you. She knows you’re grateful. Now are you ready?” Liz sniffles and nods. “I am.” She straightens her Vera Wang custom dress that Sami had Vera come and make on rush. The style is reminiscent of the Victorian era, matching the regency castle. She could be in a Jane Austen movie, for certain. I actually feel like I’m on the set of Austenland. “Let’s do this then.” Lisle the wedding planner claps her hands softly. “Natalie, then you, then you, then you, and finally you, Liz. Your father is in the wings waiting for you.” I wait for the cue and then start. I know I’m walking too fast when Sami scowls at me from the front of the wedding. I slow down, taking a breath and meeting the camera with my smile. Brady’s shocked face when he sees me is worth every second of agony I’ve spent thus far in this miserable dress. It’s lavender and the front completely squishes my boobs so they burst out the top, in regency fancy. I feel like a whore in it, and I don't even have big boobs like the other girls. But my smaller boobs are still all out there. All my business is on the streets for everyone to see. The strain in Brady’s face, as I know he’s contemplating pulling his jacket off and covering me up, makes it worth it. Sami’s eyes are all business. Her gaze flickers to the next girl, narrowing like she’s trying to send her a signal. When I get to the end, I turn and watch Mike. His lips tremble like he might cry. Mitch and Brady and his brother are all standing next to him in regency suits and top hats. They’re handsome as a themed wedding party.

As the girls all come and stand next to me, the music changes and the march starts. Liz and her dad meet at the top of the aisle and come down together. She’s beaming, nervous and adorable. Mike’s trembling lip becomes full tears in his eyes as she gets closer. Their eyes meet and my heart melts. Brady slaps Mike on the arm, squeezing. Her dad kisses her and hands her off to Mike and the ceremony starts. Brady’s eyes drift to mine as a lazy grin plays upon his lips. They say their vows and we all cry when Mike can’t make it through his. As the minister pronounces them man and wife and Mike removes his top hat to kiss his wife, Brady takes his off too and shelters their kiss so no one can see. He makes me laugh. He drags at the front of his shirt and jacket, signaling me. I shake my head subtly, earning a glare. As we leave, following the bride and groom, I take his arm, laughing when he leans down and whispers, “Holy fuck, Banks. You selling the goods now for ratings or what?” “Maybe.” We take the path of white flower confetti being thrown to the dark tunnels into the castle. He grabs my arm and pulls me into a crevice, kissing me. “Cover up.” “I can’t, dick. You think I want my shit all out for everyone to see? It's the style of the dress.” I sigh and stroll off after the party so we can take photos. “Fine, but later, when you’re still wearing it and we’re alone, I want that same shitty attitude.” I flip him off over my back. “I don't think that’s regency appropriate.” He mocks me, making me laugh again. “You’ve been watching too much Austenland.” I turn and wait for him. “Oh, I agree. Way too much. But you do the same thing every time with these movies. You start with the whole, ‘Oh, it’s an all-star cast. You know that funny actor you like, he’s in it. It’s a comedy, it’s more of a mockery, not even a romance.’ And then I watch the damn thing, not laughing the way you think I will at the unicorn pancake part.” When he catches up, I grin. “But you get to play with my boobs while we watch so that must be something of a consolation prize.” “I mean, it’s not exactly what I would call worth it, but it works.” I slap him. “Not gentlemanly.” He gives me the wicked rogue grin. “Maybe I’m more like the scoundrel who takes your virginity and makes you the ruin of your family.” He laughs and kisses me again. “One day you’ll just admit the sparkles pancake unicorn part was funny.” “Not likely. It’s the boobs that keep me coming back.” “Even if they are a secondary prize?” “Yes.” He wraps an arm around me and struts toward the wedding party. “We look like idiots prancing through this field in these clothes.” “Maybe, but it's her dream wedding.”

“What’s yours?” His tone grows serious. “I don't know. I never really thought about it before. I always believed what my mom said was important.” “Think about it.” “Why? You going to ask me to marry you, Brady?” I laugh but he doesn't. “Maybe. Would that be so weird?” His eyes lose all the humor and gain a little pain. “No,” I answer flatly. We don't play games like Matt and Sami. It’s something I like about him. “No?” He grins, stopping me. “This isn’t me asking, I want to do it right. But think about what’s important to you. In case we have to decide.” “Okay.” I nod, trying not to explode with joy. He has the same expression on his face. I link my arm in his and contain my excitement. I don't even tell Sami. I just let it be all about Liz, because it is. It’s her day. Hers and Mike’s. And in the end, it’s a wonderful day. And not to sound like a dick, but it’s going to be an amazing show for our company. Sami comes and hunts me down after the dancing starts. She has a wicked look in her eyes. “Did you have sex?” I wrinkle my nose. “I did.” She smiles wide. “I came and everything. And I wasn't alone.” “Uhhhhh, who did you seduce?” I can’t help but glance down at the baby belly. “It was Matt.” “Really?” “Yes! Is that so hard to believe?” “Yes. How was it?” “Awful and amazing. It was the worst sex we’ve had as a couple. He’s still terrified of touching the baby, which he can’t. I even drew him a diagram once, showing him how he couldn't touch the baby.” “I know, he told Brady about it. Brady laughed and said I was going to be lucky to get a break from sex after having the kid. He was serious.” “I might need to borrow Brady,” Sami mutters, scanning the room. “Let’s see how my pregnancies go. I might be willing to discuss a deal then.” We both laugh and turn to see two disgusted faces staring at us. Matt gives Sami a beastly stare. Brady shakes his head in disappointment. “Oh my God.” Sami rolls her eyes. “You’re going to be shamed for a while for that performance earlier and you know it. It was brutal. We both know it was about twenty percent of what you’re capable of. I’m horny, Matt. I have needs.” She takes a deep breath and turns to Brady. “And you have done things no one is ever going to recover from, so don't act high and mighty about being loaned out for your dirty performance.” We both laugh. Brady laughs with us but Matt is still obviously unimpressed. “You have a baby

in you. A baby we nearly lost.” “We didn't. There was never any threat. For the love of God. Sometimes a girl just wants to get banged dirty and treated poorly.” Brady agrees, “She has a point.” Matt pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t right now. I don't have the strength to have this conversation.” He takes a deep breath and then glances at Brady while pointing at me. “I’ll get mine under control if you take care of yours before the camera crew catches some of this.” “Absolutely.” Brady grabs my arm, giving me his best roguish grin. “I think we need to have a private word about renting my dick to your friends.” He chuckles and hauls me from the ballroom. When we get into the candlelit hallway, it feels real. All we can hear is the distant sound of the party and the clicking of our own heels on the parquet floor. Our reflections are eerie and hot. Me in my dress and him in his suit and top hat. He drags me to the private dining room and closes the door, clicking the latch. The room is dark, except for the light coming in the windows. I back away, giggling as he comes toward me, looking terrifying as a shadow. He pulls me to him, kissing me hard and pushing me to my knees. He undoes his pants. I giggle with nerves as he hauls out his already hard cock. He pushes my face down on it, thrusting in my mouth. We both know I don't have the skills necessary to take it all so I use my hand to make up for that. I suck with him thrusting into my face and gripping my hair that he’s tangled his hands in. He pulls out, grabbing me by the arm and spinning me around, pushing me facedown on the antique dining room table. He lifts my dress and spreads me wide open. The cold air from this part of the castle brushes against me, making me shiver as he drags his cock back and forth on my slit. He pushes himself in roughly, grasping my hips and positioning my ass. He reaches around, rubbing my clit as he thrusts short, hard thrusts. Voices fill the hallway, people laughing. Someone knocks at the door, but he doesn't stop. He rubs my clit fast and lightly, making the perfect circular motion while still fucking me with the head of his cock. My eyes close and my mouth opens as I dig my nails into the table, praying my gel polish doesn’t chip off as the orgasm builds in me. “That's it, come for me.” He presses down, applying pressure on my pulsating clit as he starts real thrusts into me. His body pumps into mine as my orgasm hits its peak. “Oh God.” “Not God, that's all me, baby.” He chuckles and puts his hands back on my hips, fucking me hard and then dragging forward, traveling my body while he continues to drive into me. His hands creep under me, cupping and squeezing my breasts, using them to pull me back to his pummeling. When he comes, he groans, bending forward and kissing my back. I breathe into the table, noticing the wetness from my drool.

“That was amazing.” He kisses my back again. “We’re keeping these outfits, right?” He chuckles. “Yes, and you’re a pervert.” “We both know you like it. You and your little freak flag.” He lifts me up and spins me around to kiss me. “We match, Banks. You need to face it. Dirty soul mates who just had a quickie on a table where people eat.” He’s right. About it all.

MATT’S EPILOGUE

N ovember 28, 2016

Matt Pacing has become a thing for me. I think Natalie started it. Gran comes strolling over, handing me a coffee. “You need to just go in there, Nancy. You’ll feel better if you’re in there.” “I can’t.” I don't want to explain. “He got kicked out.” Brady laughs. “She’s screaming in pain and they’re not doing anything to help her.” I say it like it’s not a hard concept to grasp. “Oh honey, she’s gonna scream a lot more than that. That watermelon out of a lemon is an exaggeration. Most girls almost never stretch their vagina out to lemon size.” I gag. My gran saying “stretch” and “vagina” makes me and Brady shudder. Lori and Carson grimace. Natalie laughs and nods at the door. “You want me to go in there, so she isn’t alone?” “Actually, her mom went in,” her father says before I can. He’s beaming and excited about the whole thing. He likes me a little better since I got Sami to finally agree to marry me. Being a billionaire helps too. Our heads all snap around as a scream comes tearing out of the room. It’s followed by a second one almost right away. My heart lands on the floor with a thud I swear everyone else can hear. There’s silence after that. I take a step toward the door. I don't know what I’ll do if she isn’t okay. This is the most terrifying experience of my entire life. I swallow hard, not making a sound. Someone coughs from another waiting area, earning a scowl. The door opens. Her mom is covered in blood. “He’s here!” she shouts. I rush past her, stopping in the doorway to the most horrific scene until my eyes land on my girl holding my son. “We saved you the umbilical.” The doctor steals my attention and holds up the purplish blood-soaked cord and some scissors. I shake my head softly, imagining

cutting anything from her body would likely kill me. “Just wash your hands.” The nurse points at the sink. I rush over, cleaning myself again and then hurrying to Sami’s side. One of her eyes is completely bloody. I barely see the baby for a moment, worried about her. “I’m fine. I burst a blood vessel pushing. I’m fine, I swear.” She speaks slowly, like she knows I need her to. “Meet your son.” Tears fill her terrifying eyes as she hands over a tiny bundle. He’s so small that my hands eat him up when I lift him. “Hello,” I whisper, my voice cracking. I’m lost in his tiny face and eyes. Tears flood my vision, trying to block him out, but I blink them away, desperate to never lose focus on this face. Or hers. Everything I need is here, in this room. My heart is in my hands. My love for her swells. The doctors talk to her about pushing again. She grunts and shouts, almost crying as she pushes hard and they tell her everything’s fine now. “Is there a second baby?” My heart stops. “No. Placenta.” The doctor holds up something unholy. I shudder and turn back to my son. My tiny Eli. He’s the king of the world. “Isn’t he perfect?” Sami asks. “Yes. Yes, he is.” I lean forward, sort of squatting so I can kiss her without moving him too much. Sami laughs, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her mother comes rushing over and hugs me, getting blood on the scrubs I’m wearing. “Is my dad here?” Sami asks. “Half of the Upper East Side is out there. Of course he’s here. And Nat and Brady. Everyone wants to meet him.” “Well, let us get them both cleaned up and we’ll have everyone come to her room.” The nurse smiles at me expectantly. “I’m not leaving.” “Okay, you don't have to. But we need to clean him up and get him all weighed and whatnot.” “Oh.” I hold him tight to me for one more second before letting her scoop him up from my arms. She moves too fast, too confidently. It makes me uncomfortable. “Matt.” Sami pulls me to her. “It’s okay.” She drags me down to her. I hug her, tightly, breathing for the first time in two hours. “You’re okay,” I whisper. I tried to convince her to just have a C-section for peace of mind, but she wouldn't have it. “Let’s just adopt the next one.” I nod against her, noticing how much my hands are shaking. “It’s usually the women saying that.” The nurse laughs. “Next one?” Sami scowls. “You want more than one?” “Yeah. Only children are weird. Look at you and Nat.” She laughs and pulls me into her. “You’re an asshole.” “I know.” I kiss her cheek. “But you’re stuck with me forever.” “At least you can plan the wedding now.” Her mom chimes up from behind us.

“Yeah.” I sigh into Sami’s neck, still breathing her in. We’re both too exhausted to even fight with her mom about it. Sami grips me. “Sorry you couldn't be here for it.” “I’m not. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't fix it. I never want to see you in pain like that again.” I wipe her face and kiss it again. “It’s over, Beast. You can calm down now.” “I’ll calm down when we get home to the penthouse and you’re sleeping next to me.” I kiss her nose and smile. “You’re amazing. And he’s perfect.” “Just like me.” She winks. We laugh. Once she’s cleaned up somewhat and Eli’s been bathed, the nurse gives Sami an expectant smile. “Time to get you up. You need a shower.” “Okay.” She nods and tries to swing her legs over the bed, wincing. “You’re going to be a bit sore and tight, just take it easy. Getting up and walking will help with that. I’m panicking and trying to keep it inside as I help her off the bed. She stands like a newborn horse and stumbles clumsily to the shower. I walk with her, flicking on the light and helping her inside. I close the door as she removes the nightgown. “Don't look.” She tries to cover her puffy stomach. “It’s just fat now.” “Hey.” I strip my clothes off too, climbing into the shower with her. I tilt her face up to mine. “This is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.” “Liar.” “Okay, the eye is a little freaky.” I smile. “But honestly, you just performed a miracle. You gave me a son. Your body is the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Please don't do this.” “You swear?” “Swear.” I grab a facecloth and delicately wash her body, cleaning all the blood and other things, which I don't really want to label, off of her. “Do you remember the first time you cleaned all that makeup off and I was stunned?” “Yeah.” She laughs. “You were horrified.” “You were a different person under all that makeup, a different girl. It was like seeing you naked for the first time. I was horrified because I didn't understand why you’d want to wear so much and be a different girl. The one you are is perfect.” She starts to sob, wrapping her arms around me. The unbreakable Sami Ford is officially exhausted. “I love you,” she sobs. “I love you too. Let me finish washing you so we can see our son.” “Okay.” She sniffles and stands still so I can get her clean. Blood runs down her legs, worrying me, but the underwear they give her to put on make sense and we both laugh. “It’s fishnet.” She giggles weakly and lets me pull them on. “How do I look?” She smiles, glowing from the inside with something I’ve never seen before. “Perfect,” I mutter. Her smile changes and she lights up more. “You’re crazy. I look like hell. A drowned, fat little rat in fishnet underwear.”

“You’re my rat in fishnet underwear so you look perfect to me.” I help her put on the pajamas I brought her and pull her crazy hair into a bun. “Do you want to do your makeup?” “No. Let the cameras show us exactly as we are. I’m supposed to be a role model. I don't think new moms should worry about how they look.” “Who are you, and what have you done with my fiancée?” “It’s one day without makeup.” She opens the door to a smiling nurse. “Hi.” “This way. Baby Brimley’s down that way. When you and Mr. Brimley aren’t able to be with him, he must be placed in the guarded care unit. When you get to your room they’ll bring him to you. Will there be a nanny coming to learn with you today?” “No.” Sami scowls and gives me a look. “No, right?” We've never discussed it, but her answer is exactly how I feel on the subject. “No nanny.” When we shuffle down to the room, he’s brought to us in a wheeled bed, a tiny wheeled bed. “He has blue eyes,” Sami gushes as she lifts him from the bed, kissing and smelling him the way I do her. “All babies have blue eyes. They’ll change over the course of the year,” the nurse mentions as she busies herself around the small bed, pulling out little diapers and a blue hat. “I hope he has your eyes,” Sami says, kissing our son and glancing back at me. I don't know what the world has in store for us. I don't know if, like my father and brother, I’ll even live past thirty or sixty. But I do know, in this very moment, that this picture, this girl holding my baby, is all I need. The year 2016 has officially been the very worst and best year of my life. And seeing this is a glimpse into how 2017 will start, I know it’s only going to get better. This is my life beginning. Standing in the hospital room with my future wife and our son. The moment becomes so clear I can hardly take it. It all starts back on the streets of London, a winding journey to this very moment, the start of my life and my purpose. To love these two people with all my heart.

BRADY’S EPILOGUE

December 31, 2016 Brady Her glittery dress and goofy smile have me crossing the great room in Sami’s Steamboat lodge, just to be near her again. “Hi.” She grins, up to something. “Hi.” I’m grinning back and we look like idiots, but I don't care. “It’s New Year’s in a couple of minutes,” she beams under the dazzling lights. “I know. That's why I’m here. I have to make sure Lori doesn't try to kiss you again.” I lift a finger up at him when he sees me staring his way. He grins and blows on his stupid party favor. Most of the team’s here, celebrating New Year’s because we just played in Denver. “He’s a pretty good kisser.” She glances back, blowing him a kiss. He catches it and stuffs it in the front of his pants. “I’m going to kill him.” “Don't. He’s a player. He’s you, just a tiny bit younger.” She laughs and turns back to me. “Do you ever miss it? Being the legendary guy?” “I’m still legendary, don't you worry.” It’s the truth. I’m legendary for snagging this girl, this angel staring up at me with those blue eyes, the ones that see right through me. “I’m glad. I thought for sure you’d be bored of me in no time.” She laughs, taunting me. “You clearly don't see what I do.” I pull her in, running a thumb over her brightred lip. It doesn't run, which takes all the fun of trying to smudge it. She calls it stain, which I assume is like staining wood only you do it to your face. “That was a good one. You might get lucky later.” “Oh, I know I’m getting lucky later.” I decide this is the moment and grab her hand, dragging her to the massive balcony overlooking the entire town of Steamboat and the ski resort. It’s freezing but worth it. I need her alone. My stomach aches with possibilities and doubts about my self-worth, but when we’re alone and she looks even prettier under the starry night, I man up. I drop to my knee, staring up at the most beautiful girl in the whole world. “Ten!” They shout.

“When we met, I had a one-track mind. And everything was hockey.” “Nine!” “And then you happened, you changed my one-track mind.” “Eight!” Her eyes widen but she doesn't speak. “You have become everything: my air, my heart, my hopes.” “Seven,” they scream and she covers her mouth, her eyes getting glossy. “I want this fairly horrible year to end on the highest note possible, which would be you agreeing to be my wife.” “Six!” “And I want next year to start with us, knowing how much we mean to each other.” “Five!” “Will you marry me, Natalie Banks?” “Four!” “Three!” “Two!” I start to panic as she just stares. “Happy New Year!” Somewhere in their screams and the music, she whispers, “Yes.” She trembles but she nods and reaches for me. I flip open the ring box I was palming and flash the ring, making her gasp. When I slide it on her finger my whole heart explodes with too many feelings to feel. I jump up, scooping her into my arms and pressing my lips against her stained ones. Our hearts are beating rapidly but as one. Mine’s pounding so hard I think I’m having a heart attack. I’m sure she can feel it. “Happy New Year’s,” I mutter and kiss her harder. Her hands shake, maybe from the cold, and tears slip from her eyes, but when she whispers frosty breath in my ear, I can feel the heat in her, “I can’t wait to marry you.” “I told you I was going to get lucky.” I can’t help but laugh. She pulls back, lifting the ring on her finger. “You did. I said yes.” She bites her red lip, tormenting me. “Since it’s past New Year’s, do you think anyone will notice if we leave?” She lifts her eyebrows. “I don't give a fuck if they notice.” I slip my hand around hers and drag her along the side of the room. “I want to tell Sami.” “Tomorrow.” I hurry before anyone tries to kiss her. I hate New Year’s. I never hated it before I had a girl who I couldn't stand to see hug anyone but me. Now it drives me nuts. And Lori knows it. He loves provoking Brimstone and me. When we get to our room in the loft, the music is loud enough to cover any possible noises we might make. Undressing her is like unwrapping my favorite gift. Touching her is like being allowed to touch something only the gods should be

allowed. But having her wearing my ring when I slip inside her is more than I can describe. It takes my breath away. We make love, we don't fuck. It’s intense and I can’t joke afterward. I can’t pretend that I didn't give my heart, a ring with all my intentions and hopes inside it. She’s my match. And this is our beginning.

THE END

There will be a fourth book. It’s called Baby Daddies. It comes out the summer of 2017.

Bed Buddies (Roommates #3) - Tara Brown - PDF Free Download (2024)
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