Page 69 of How to Date a Younger Man
Moments later, we both shatter into a million shimmering pieces at the very same time. Shuddering, I hold her body close, enjoying the final waves of pleasure as they rock through me.
Once we’ve both found our way back to reality, I set her down on the floor again. One by one, I replace each beautiful foot into a high heel. Rising to my feet, I zip up my own pants. Wordless, we help each other with hair and wrinkled clothes, smoothing out all evidence that anything smutty just occurred in a boardroom, of all places.
“I’ve got to fix my makeup before we head back,” she says, peering into the darkened mirrored surface of a window.
“Sure,” I say. “I think there was one just around the corner.”
“Perfect.” She smiles, giving me a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into a restroom down the hall.
I take a deep breath, reaching into my pocket to make sure . . . Yes, it’s still there.
I hear the rush of water come from the restroom and take position. The restroom door creaks open, and her heels click down the hall as she returns.
“Griff, did you bring a pen? I think it would be nice if we wrote them—” Layne walks back into the boardroom to see me on one knee, presenting a glimmering ring. “Oh my God.”
“Layne, baby? I have something to ask you—”
“Griffin! Are you kidding me?” She’s shocked to tears, laughing with uneven breath. “Right after I leave the bathroom?”
“You can make up something more romantic to tell our friends,” I say with a smirk. “I just couldn’t wait any longer. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me, honey?”
Layne drops to my level, planting a kiss on me that’s hard and tender at the same time. “Yes,” she murmurs into my lips. “I’ll marry you.”
EPILOGUE
* * *
LAYNE
Two years later
Walking through the garage door, I’m immediately greeted by a fluffy black-and-white fur ball, jumping up on his hind legs to paw and lick at my knees, his tail wagging like crazy.
“Well, hi there, Scooty-Scoots. How are you? How was your day?” I coo at him, closing the door behind me and squatting down to pet him.
Scooter rolls over onto his back so I can scratch his belly, and I happily do so. I love coming home to this little ball of love after a long day at work—even if it was only a half day. But there’s someone else I’m more excited to see right about now. Well, three other people, actually.
“Babe, is that you?”
I follow Griffin’s voice into the kitchen, where he’s sitting at the table feeding our twin daughters who are both strapped into a special twins high chair and dressed adorably in matching pink-and-white-striped onesies. My heart gives a little lurch.
“Hi, sorry I’m a little late. There was an issue with one of our contracts, but I handled it. Are those the onesies my mom got them? They’re so cute.”
I plant a quick kiss on his mouth before kissing each of the twins’ chubby little cheeks as well. Both girls gurgle happily at me, evidence of the sweet potato they’ve been eating clinging to their chins and cheeks. One smear of it is across Georgia’s forehead.
“Don’t sweat it, babe. We’re just glad you’re here now.” Griffin drops a sprinkling of dry cereal in front of each of the girls before smiling up at me, contentment in his eyes.
I lean down and kiss him again, longer and deeper this time, running my fingers through the back of his hair.
“What was that for?” he asks when we part, a sexy smile spreading across his face.
“I missed you,” I say, hanging my tote bag on the back of his chair and sitting down next to him.
“We missed you too. Even if it’s only been six hours.”
“Yeah, well, at their age, six hours feels like six years. I swear they’ve grown since I left this morning. Does Georgia’s hair look a little red to you? She gets that from your side, you know.”
“Maybe a little. But Charlotte definitely has your pretty green eyes. She’s a lucky girl.” Griffin slips his arm around my waist, squeezing me tightly as we watch our twins eat, fully consumed by love and gratitude for the family we’ve made together.
As if on cue, Charlotte reaches for Georgia’s Cheerios and steals one, and both of them start crying. Griffin and I each grab a baby, clean them up and calm them down, rocking and cooing and telling them it’s all going to be okay. Once they’re settled, the four of us snuggle on our oversized couch, where the twins begin to drift off to sleep on our chests.
Scooter, the dog we rescued as a puppy shortly after getting married, curls up next to Griffin on the couch, completing our currently family of five, Scooter included. We got lucky with his temperament—the shelter wasn’t exactly sure what he’s a mix of. Not that we cared, then or now. He was perfect practice for us before the twins were born, and he’s matured enough since then to be kind and gentle with them now.
