Page 71 of One Steamy Pucking Meet Cute

I raise an eyebrow. Didn’t see that one coming. I stare back at her, pretending I need to think about the question. The truth is, I’ve already asked myself it a hundred times. I already know the answer. I cup her face and kiss her lips softly, pulling on her lower lip with playful suction. “You’re alright,” I say finally.

She whacks me, then smiles. “Asshole.”

The amusement drains from my face as I meet her eyes. “I do, though. Love you.”

Her breath catches. “What?”

“I love you,” I repeat. The words rush out with surprising weight. They feel like a goddamn spell as I utter them–as if they’re more than just words and carry some kind of magic.

“Why?” she whispers.

I laugh. “Why? Because I can’t help it. That was when I decided it was love. I tried to talk myself out of it so many times. I told myself to get over you and focus on the game. I told myself to stop getting distracted–that you were just another woman. And it never worked. I kept coming back for more. I kept thinking about you. When I thought I’d lost you to some nameless asshole who knocked you up, I was fucking devastated. Why do you think I was sparring with barstools and getting drunk every weekend?”

“I didn’t know it was that bad… I’m sorry, Jake. I wish I had told you sooner.”

“And I wish you’d forgive yourself. Things happened the way they did. We’re here right now. That’s what matters.”

She closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against mine. I’m still holding her up, back pressed against the curtains and the wall behind. “I’d tell you how I feel, but I’m pretty sure you already know.”

“Yeah,” I agree, with a playful edge to my voice. “You’re right. No need to state the obvious.” My joking tone does a pretty good job of hiding my pounding heart and tight throat.

She lifts her eyes. “Jake… I tolerate you.”

I laugh. “Now who’s the asshole?”

She bites her lip. “I love you. I love you,” she says it the second time with an air of amazement, like a sudden realization that lifts a long-lingering fog. “I’ve been afraid to admit that for so long. I think I felt like admitting it would make the inevitable part when you realized you didn’t want me hurt too bad. Then Walker happened, and I guess part of me almost couldn’t bear to hear you break things off yourself. It seemed less painful if I assumed I knew what you’d do and did it myself.”

I kiss her forehead, then hug her tight. “I do like the curtains.”

She laughs softly. “You do?”

“Love them.”

32

CAROLINE

“Istill can’t believe we’re doing this,” I say. It feels like I’m hyperventilating. My breath is coming in gasps and hitches. “I’ve never been married before. What if I do something wrong?”

Jake finishes up changing Walker, who decided this was an ideal time to poop himself. He comes over to me in that way of his, radiating calm, control, and command. He cups my face gently, smiling. “We got this, Caroline. And I’m aware you’ve never been married before. Neither have I.”

I nod, trying to calm my breathing. Some part of me never thought we’d actually end up doing this. I imagined we’d cancel the wedding, or I’d wind up hiring some kind of sleazy groom-for-hire service. I thought legal complications would crop up or Peter would find a way to throw a wrench in our plans.

None of that happened. Ultimately, we just had to survive each other for six months without imploding. Against all my expectations, we didn’t just survive. We’ve become quite the little team. Jake constantly tells me how much he loves me and how beautiful I am. We can still hardly keep our hands off each other.

And now we’re about to get married.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have some reservations. As much as I love him, I’m not actually ready to be married. Not for real. We haven’t talked about what comes next in months–not since things changed between us. I honestly don’t know what to expect, and it terrifies me.

But we agreed with our friends in Frosty Harbor that a big, fancy wedding ceremony wasn’t necessary. Once the secret was out, the fun of staging a full-blown wedding lost some of its appeal. We told everybody we’d go do a Vegas wedding, hopped on a plane, and that was that.

Once we arrived, we went for the full Vegas wedding experience by renting last-minute tuxes for Jake and Walker. I got an ordinary white dress from Target, and here we are. “Tomorrow is my birthday,” I say absently.

Jake pats my head reassuringly, giving my forehead a kiss. “I know it is. I already got your present.”

“You got me a present?” I ask.

“Hey, it’s our turn.” He nods to something behind me.

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