Page 52 of A Love That Broke Us
Same scene. Same people. Same weekend tradition. Except now, I’m walking in with Alley—my future wife.
“Hey guys!” I call across the room.
Amber looks up, smiling as she echoes, “Hey guys.” She starts to get up, while Jeff shouts from the kitchen, asking what we want to drink. Megan and Kev mumble half-hearted greetings from their spots.
“Anything with tequila,” I call back to Jeff as I shrug off my coat, shaking out the cold. I turn to Alley, reaching for hers, only to find her still standing there, mouth gaping as she takes it all in.
“Holy crap. This place is phenomenal.” Her grin spreads wide, eyes going big as she turns to meet my gaze. “I’m so excited to be here!”
I guess it does have a bit of a shock factor for a first-timer. Huge open space, floor-to-ceiling windows framing nothing but trees covered in snow. And I’m not one to get all in my feels about scenery, but damn—it’s beautiful.
Megan finally peels herself off the couch, coming over to hug us after Amber. “How was the drive?” she asks.
“It was good,” Alley and I say at the same time.
“Went by fast,” I add.
Alley kicks off her boots and steps onto the wood floor. “Holy shit. The floors are heated.”
“Just wait till you take a shit,” Kevin calls from across the room.
I chuckle, catching Alley’s gaze.
Megan shoots Kevin a look of disgust. “Get your ass off the couch and come say hello.”
“All the toilets have bidets with heated seats and warm water,” I tell Alley.
Megan turns back to her with a deadpan expression. “It’s like a day spa for your ass.”
“Can’t wait,” Alley says with a laugh, her one dimple sinking deep into her cheek. Swear to God, my heart fucking bursts.
“I’m gonna grab my drink. What can I get you?” I ask, kicking off my shoes.
Her gaze sweeps over the kitchen counter, lighting up when she spots the espresso machine.
“Can you make me a coffee?”
“Sure thing, babe.” I press a quick kiss to her lips and turn toward the kitchen?—
Megan grabs my arm, yanking me back. “Will you make me an espresso martini?”
I arch a brow. “Do we have the stuff for that?”
“Of course we do. You know how I love your espresso martinis. You make them the best.” She flashes me a grin. “I brought everything. It’s all on the counter.”
“Matt makes them better,” I say, matter-of-fact.
“I know, but he’s not here.” Megan gives me a sweet, pleading smile before pressing her hands together in fake prayer. “Pleeeease.”
I chuckle, giving in. “Sure. Whatever.” I pull free from her grasp and head into the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later we’re all gathered in the living room, drinks in hand, catching up. Megan’s mid-rant about a woman at her work having an affair with a coworker when Matt’s car finally pulls up.
He steps out, grabbing his bag, and I do a double take. No Jordan?
I watch the passenger door, waiting, expecting her to emerge. But she doesn’t.
Megan notices instantly. “Where the hell is Jordan?”
