Page 187 of A Little Complicated

I’ve always been a sucker for poking the bear, especially when the stick up his ass is practically welded there.

Snatching another grape from the banquet table, I toss it into my mouth, stride toward Dylan, and tuck my hands into the front pockets of my slacks.

When she catches me approaching, she shrinks in on herself and folds her arms.

“You know,” I start, “I heard a rumor that if a dude takes Viagra and dies, his dick stays hard indefinitely.”

She covers her snort with her hand and shakes her head. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Definitely joking. You really think I’m gonna Google that shit?” I shiver. “I might look like an idiot and have even convinced Maverick to Google a thing or two, but I learned my lesson in sixth grade when I had to write a book report onHarry Potter.” I drop my voice a little lower. “Fell down the rabbit hole of Dramione, and let me tell you, there is some fanfic art you cannot unsee, my dear Dylan.”

“What’s Dramione?”

Brows raised, I explain, “Draco and Hermione? Dramione?”

She frowns. “Doesn’t she end up with Ron?”

With a scoff, I throw my arm over her shoulders. “Aw, my sweet, innocent little Dylan. She might end up with Ron in the real books, but everyone’s a sucker for a good opposites-attract, enemies-to-lovers story, don’t you think?”

“I, uh,” she hesitates. “I’ve never really thought about it, so…I’m not sure?”

“Is that a question?” The edge of my mouth curves up.

She lifts a shoulder, and her blue-green eyes fall to the ground. Even with her glasses shielding her, I notice how puffy they are. And damp and free of makeup. Like she didn’t give a shit about getting ready for the outside world today. No. This is Dylan Thorne. The original girl next door.

She’s a pretty little wallflower. I’ll give her that much.

“Since when do you wear glasses?” I prod.

She touches the edge of her black frames. “Oh. I uh…always, I guess?”

“I’ve never seen you in them.”

“Usually I wear contacts, but sometimes they give me a headache, especially when I’ve been crying a lot and—”

“Dylan,” Everett snaps from across the room. “Come over here.”

Peeking up at me, Dylan slips from beneath my arm and scoots her glasses along the bridge of her nose. “Nice chatting with you, Reeves. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

She darts across the funeral home and into Everett’s waiting arms like the baby deer I’d pegged her for.

Yeah, I fucking called it.

Everett wants in Dylan’s pants.

The question is, does she want him there?

There’s only one way to find out.

EPILOGUE TWO

OPHELIA

A few years later…

With my hand resting on my swollen belly, I soak up the sunshine in the yard while Maverick wrestles with our three-year-old, Archer. Even though he isn’t technically a junior, Mav started calling him AJ for short by the time he turned one, and the nickname has stuck ever since.

“Get him, AJ! Get him!” I cheer as my little boy runs across the lawn for the kiddie pool full of water balloons his dad filled earlier today. AJ’s swimsuit rides low and shows half of his cute little bum, so I make a mental note to tighten the drawstring, hiding my amusement behind my hand as I stand near the backdoor of our home. Seriously, he’s the cutest thing ever. After picking a green water balloon from the rainbow of colors in the tub, AJ throws it toward his daddy, but it slips through his tiny hands. With a pop, it hits the grass in front of him and explodes, pulling the most pathetic pout I’ve ever seen from his cute little lips as he turns to me helplessly.

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