Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Carter rolls his eyes. “Big, tough football player hates escape rooms.”
“I do not hate escape rooms,” Gabe corrects. “I simply prefer poker, blackjack, and betting games.”
My sister’s fiancé, Milo, jerks his gaze toward the guys. “Poker? Did someone say poker? Let’s play tonight.”
“I’m in,” Axel says, lifting his tumbler of whiskey in a yes. “And I will destroy all of you.”
I roll my eyes, then ruffle his hair. “You’re extra competitive when you think you can win.”
“Damn right,” my guy says, and I love that he’s changed some things about him—like opening his heart—but he’s remained the same in other ways. Like hating escape rooms and jumping at the chance to play a fierce game of cards. He leans in and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Just like you are.”
From her cozy chair, Rachel sips her martini, watching the guys peacock. There’s a sly look in her eyes. When she sets down the glass, she says, “Or we could all go to a new wine and beer tasting tomorrow. Hazel and I got tickets to a cool spot in Brooklyn. Want to come?”
If there’s one way to capture a table’s interest, that did it.
Carter jumps first. “I’m in,” he says, then after yeses abound, he switches seats with Milo and slides in next to Rachel.
“So, I had to come all the way to New York to see you. What’s the deal with that?” he asks her playfully.
“I saw you last week in San Francisco,” she points out with a smile.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m just saying…you’re avoiding me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I am not avoiding you. Ever.”
“You better not be. Don’t tell any of these guys, but you’re definitely my favorite friend.”
Rachel’s cheeks flush pink, then she says softly, but not too soft for me to hear, “I’ll keep your secret.” Then she adds, “And you’re mine.”
As they chat more, I slowly turn my gaze to Axel, asking with my eyes if he heard that.
His irises say yes.
“My friend and your brother?” I ask quietly, just to confirm the obvious.
“They’ve been friends for a long time,” he remarks.
I dip my face closer to his ear. “I’m imagining a friends-to-lovers romance.”
He arches a doubtful brow. “You think so?”
“I sure do,” I say, then lift my wine and clink my glass to his. “We have a little bit of that too.”
He just smiles, speechless once again.
When we leave a little later, I’m not thinking of anyone else’s romance. Just mine with this man who’s my partner, my guy, and truly, my very best friend.
I go home with him, and it’s where I belong.
EPILOGUE
SOMETIMES IT RAINS
Axel
Done.
Well, almost.
It’s December, I’m in Big Cup with Hazel, and I just finished writing the best words in our way overdue Ten Park Avenue installment.
I smile slyly at the clever partner in crime across from me, who’s waiting. Just waiting.
She knows what’s next. She wants it. She’s practically going to pounce on the laptop screen.
So I drag it out a little more, like a dick, taking my sweet time studying the screen. Just to taunt her.
Finally, she relents. “Axel! Just do it. Write the two best words, and then show it to me. Now.”
Ha. I knew she’d break first. Acting all blasé, I say, “Fine.”
Then I type The End, and I share the final scene with her.
She dives right in, and if that isn’t the sexiest she’s ever looked, I don’t know what is. Smiling, cackling, rapt. It’s gorgeous, watching her read.
When she reaches the final words, she draws a deep breath, and gasps. Then reaches across the table and kisses me. “We did it,” she says when she breaks the kiss.
We sure did.
It wasn’t easy. We butted heads a few times, disagreed on some moments, and fought ruthlessly over whether Lacey would bang her head on the headboard during a particularly athletic sex scene—I shocked Hazel by saying no, she shocked me by saying yes—but in the end we found our way through. We wrote and rewrote and compromised, and we made each other better together.
Poor Lacey though. She wound up with a goose egg the next day. But hey, that was the price she paid for three orgasms.
After we polish the final scene—translation: Hazel adds a line here or there but finds zero, count ’em, zero grammatical errors—we take off into the chilly New York day.
“So, should we celebrate finishing our book by going to a billionaire’s party tonight?” she asks. Then bumps her elbow with mine. “Confession: I’m going to be taking notes all night long on what his Fifth Avenue penthouse looks like. I’ve only ever written them. I’ve never seen one.”
“Me too. And it better be grander than my imagination. Though I can imagine a lot,” I say.
“I’m still kind of surprised we were invited.”
“Baby, he likes us. We’re the reason he’s having this engagement party.”