Page 92 of Single All the Way

“Yeah?”

“Going to need you naked in my bedroom to show you how I feel,” I said, “in the next thirty seconds.”

She laughed. “Then you better whisk me in there and rip my clothes off.” She snapped her fingers. “I did the heavy lifting of proposing. Your turn for a little effort.”

I had her in my arms before she finished her sentence.

Once we were in my room, I said, “We’ll make this our new Christmas Eve tradition.”

As I whipped her sweater off and peeled her leggings down, she laughed.

“You were right from the start,” she said. “Traditions are the best. This one is my favorite.”

Epilogue

One week later

Emerson

Iheld my husband’s hand as we reached the door to the Honeysuckle Inn ballroom.

Ben had been my husband for nearly four glorious, chaotic, family-filled hours. It was still sinking in that I was his wife. This man was forever mine.

“You ready?” he asked, pausing to look down at me with his handsome, loving eyes.

“Let’s do it,” I said, grinning, thinking how we alreadyhaddone it.

Ben tugged me up against him, his possessive hand at my waist, and bent to kiss me. He took his sweet time with my lips. When he finally ended the kiss, he said, “Come on, Mrs. Holloway. We have a lot to celebrate.”

His words caused a fluttering in my chest.

We laced our fingers together again, and he opened the door, unleashing a torrent of noise: an eighties cover group called Big Hair Band was playing “Living on a Prayer,” and a couple hundred partygoers were dancing, talking, drinking, laughing, preparing to welcome in the New Year at midnight.

Cash Henry greeted us and asked for our tickets. He wore a black tee with the sleeves rolled once and black pants.

“Dirty Dancing?” I asked. “Johnny?”

He grinned. “You got it. You’re one of the few who didn’t have to ask.”

“Ava’s pale pink dress clued me in.” She’d been at the check-in counter when we’d come through the lobby. Her pregnant belly took nothing away from the costume.

“Looking good,” Ben said to him.

“Princess Bride, right?” Cash asked us.

“This is my Buttercup,” Ben said, making me laugh and roll my eyes.

Embracing the eighties theme of the party, I wore a flowing red gown with a gold belt and a long blond wig. My handsome hero was dressed in black, with poufy sleeves and ornate boots he’d ordered online.

We stopped at one of the bars and ordered drinks, then did a private toast to us. I welcomed his mouth as he kissed me yet again. I didn’t mind. I’d never mind his kisses. I hoped we’d still be stopping in our tracks to kiss when we were ninety.

“Look at West over there,” Ben said to me, pointing.

I laughed. “A Rubik’s Cube.” The big, muscled guy was wearing what appeared to be a painted cardboard box. “I hope he doesn’t want to slow dance with anyone tonight.”

Next to West stood Chance, Max, Harper, and Knox. Max noticed us and waved us over to their group, standing around a tall cocktail table.

We reached them and greeted them, and I hugged Harper.

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