Page 19 of Thick

And then I get to the bottom.

Our poor girl.

The sentence is written with a shaky hand, and I can tell how hard it was to share it with us.

There's a commotion from the kitchen as Kaz looks for something, and then a triumphant shout as he finds it and runs back to us.

It takes Zelda a minute to realise he's holding a baby bottle before she looks to me for confirmation.

"Like... does that mean we get married now or what?"

Both Kaz and I burst into laughter at her bold words.

eleven

Porn Stars

Kaz

"Why are you pacinga hole into our carpet?" Brennan asks, his mouth hitched up in a crooked grin he usually reserves only for me.

He's handsome and the love of my life. But he's dangerously close to being punched in the face. "Why aren't you? Aren't you nervous?"

The twatface is leaning back against the headboard; his muscular thighs spread apart, his entire body shouting 'relaxed'. He also isn’t wrong. I've been a total dweeb about our date with Zelda tonight. In all fairness, though, it’s a bit more than a date. After the miraculous matches in our lists, agreeing to do a scene was a no-brainer. It’s time to see if we are compatible ineveryway.

Even though I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that wearecompatible with Zelda, we still need to prove it to her. And anything can go wrong.

And dammit. What if Zelda changes her mind and runs back to her little cave, and we lose our chance with the most perfect girl in the world?

"I'm actually more worried aboutwhyyou are so worked up," Brennan states, leaning forward and holding his hand out to me, a non-verbal invite to join him on our bed.

His observation makes me pause.

He's not wrong. I'm unflappable. I, Kaz, am super-hot—I'd be stupid not to know this— the personal trainer to some B-list celebs, and I do not get nervous over anything. Ever.

Except this girl.

"This is different." I respond with the only words that make sense. "She's different. She matters."

Brennan pats the bed again. "Come on, pookie-bum."

This time, I take him up on his invitation and crawl up to join him at the top of the bed. Curling up against him, I allow him to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me in for a cuddle.

"The last time I was this much of a wreck was before I asked you to marry me," I decide to tell him.

"You were not," he huffs out with a laugh, the shock clear in his tone.

"Was, too. I had to change my shirt twice because I sweated right through it. My stupid brain was convinced you'd laugh me out of the restaurant."

"We'd been living together for over a year," Brennan says, sounding more and more shocked the longer the conversation continues. "Surely you had to know I'd say yes."

I push at his abs and somehow get distracted by the defined muscle underneath the t-shirt. "Asshole. I knew no such thing. You'd made your disdain for monogamy known from the start ofour relationship. On more than one occasion, you'd also made it clear that you were very happy with how things were going between us."

His fingers interlace with mine, and I look up into his striking face when he squeezes my hand.

Brennan isn't the classical movie-star handsome. His features are rugged and weathered. His face is a combination of perfect proportions and unique scars and marks.

Sometimes, I like to tease him that it was lust at first sight. Really, it was love.

---