Page 54

FORTY-TWO

HANNAH

I fucking did it. One month of back-and-forths with my editor. Round after round of furiously working through edits. Zero sleep. But today I published my sixth book.

I lean back into the couch as I scroll through the social media posts early readers have created. I’ll never get over how a person I’ve never met can so perfectly visualize characters I created. So many of the images tell my story perfectly. It’s incredible. And seeing my words quoted? Reading posts from readers who fell in love with my words or the characters or the world I created? It’s surreal. Each one makes my heart grow a little bigger.

The only thing that would make it better would be if I had the actual paperback in my hand. Unfortunately, author copies take weeks, so all I have is the e-book. It’s trivial, I guess, and nothing could bring me down today.

Since we were in Vegas a month ago, we’ve settled into our relationship even further.

Ava and War welcomed their son Beckham the day after Thanksgiving, and I’ve spent every moment the guys are traveling over at her house, helping with laundry and dishes and dinner while also soaking in every lesson I can so when my baby boy is here, I can put it all to use. Ava is a natural. This is her first experience with a newborn, but she had a leg up, since she’s been raising three children with War for the last year.

I never could have imagined being so comfortable holding a newborn, but the first time my best friend put her baby boy in my arms, a switch flipped in my brain. And when she asked me to be his godmother, I just about lost it.

Now I’m even more anxious for our son to arrive.

Noah and Oliver officially live across the hall, and Oliver is obsessed with his new room. While he was at his mom’s, Noah and Daniel decorated it—hockey-themed, of course—as a surprise. The kid was doubly excited when he realized his little cousin’s room across the hall would match his. Hockey wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I told Daniel he could decorate the nursery—don’t they ever get sick of it?—but the joy on Oliver’s face is worth swimming in a sea of Bolts blue every time I step into the room.

I insisted on a gray rocker and gray furniture to keep the blue from being too overpowering.

“Why are you still laying on the couch?” Sara asks as she breaks into my apartment.

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, since the door was unlocked, but she could have at least knocked.

“You’re going to be late for your own baby shower.”

I look pointedly at the clock on the wall—the clock with hands that don’t move; it’s merely decorative, but I want to make a point. “The baby shower that starts in six hours?”

When Daniel left for morning skate, I figured I had at least an hour to lie on the couch before he returned and cuddled me. Sex and cuddles—now, that sounds like the perfect way to celebrate a book release.

Being accosted by a friend at eight a.m. and bullied into getting ready for a baby shower? Not so much.

“Come on, I’ve got strict instructions to keep you on schedule. Daniel said to tell you don’t fight it. ” Her last few words come out frighteningly deep.

Head tilted, I study her. Her blue hair is up in a ponytail, and she isn’t wearing a stitch of makeup. It’s cold out, but the woman is bundled up like she’s ready to head out into the wild for a week.

“Why are you here?”

The smile that splits her face is the manic one that means she’s up to something. “Because Daniel knows I’m the only one crazy enough to drag his baby mama out of her cozy apartment for his surprise.”

I roll my eyes. Old habits die hard, I guess. Acting unimpressed by the things this man does for me is my go-to response—a defense mechanism, if you will—but inside, I’m bubbling with elation that could make even my pregnant whalelike figure take flight. “Why would I leave this apartment? It’s twenty degrees out.”

“It’s seven degrees, actually, but who’s counting?” She wraps her arms around herself and shivers dramatically.

“Me. I’m counting. Why are we going outside? How about you take off that jacket and snuggle under this blanket with me? We can discuss how to make your man come without coming.”

She narrows her eyes at me, but she toes off her boots and hangs her jacket on the hook by the door. “Why would I want him to come without me?”

I toss back the blanket and pat the spot beside me. “Not him without you. Both of you, together, without the mess.”

She licks her lips, eyes flashing. “But what if I like it messy?”

“Oh, you’ll get there, hunny. But if he comes without ejaculating, then you can just keep fucking.”

“Oh my god, you are evil.” She taps her phone screen. “You’re trying to use my love for sex to keep me from dragging you out into the cold, aren’t you?”

Head dropped back, I cackle. “Is it working?”

She plops down on the cushion and pulls her feet up. “Obviously. But you’ve got ten minutes. Then we’re heading to the spa. Daniel told me to get here early. Our appointment isn’t until nine.”

My chest warms. The man knows me so well. And the spa? God, I love him.

The technician grinds a knuckle into the ball of my foot, pulling a totally inappropriate groan from me. My feet are like sausages these days, and though Daniel is in the thick of hockey season, he massages them religiously on the nights he’s home. Elvira’s fingers aren’t quite as big or warm, but she’s working some magic right now.

“Yes, right there. You’re doing so good.”

Millie gags. “Every time you talk, all I can imagine is you talking my brother through another orgasm.”

Sara giggles. “She told me all about how he does it without ejaculating. I’m determined to try this magic.”

The horrified look on Millie’s face is gold. “Why in god’s name would anyone want to come without ejaculating?”

While the women working on our feet snicker, the two older women who are getting their hair set gawk in disgust.

I shrug. Eh. It’s sex. Surely the old biddies were getting some back in the sixties. Everyone was having sex in the sixties.

“Do you like having multiple orgasms, Ava?” She chose a seat at the other end of the row of chairs—probably to get as far away from our loud mouths as she could—so I have to shout.

When she walked in, I literally squealed. I didn’t think she’d come. She’s barely left Beckham’s side since giving birth four weeks ago. War was very excited to bring him to morning skate today, so he encouraged her to get out of the house.

From the sound of things, the guys all brought their kids—babies wrapped in carriers and little ones in skates and everything. Shit. I hope to god there are no pictures. If I see evidence, I’ll lose my street cred and break down in crocodile tears. Just thinking about it has my nipples tingling and my tear ducts opening.

Ava’s red hair curtains her face. The woman is seriously pretending she doesn’t know us.

“Come on, my pretty, pretty princess,” I tease. “Tell us all about the orgasms your husband gives you on the daily.”

When the women under the hair dryers huff, I can’t help but taunt them by rubbing my belly with my left hand, highlighting my bare ring finger. I definitely can’t see my feet now, even propped up like this. Even so, my man loves my body, and I’m not the least bit ashamed of how much we like sex.

“I’m pretending I don’t know you,” Ava mumbles.

“Too bad I’m your best friend and favorite person ever—after Josie, of course.”

Ava’s lips twitch, and her green eyes light up. “Love that you put yourself above my three other children and my husband.”

“Daddy War will not be happy,” Sara cajoles.

“I bet Daddy War likes multiple orgasms, and I’ll be his favorite too when I tell Ava how to give them to him.” I settle back in my seat, content to know I’m right.

I like being right.

Daniel tells me I’m never not right.

If there’s a single thing the guy isn’t good at, it’s keeping me humble, and I’m okay with that.

One of the hairdressers approaches the women across the room and turns off the dryers. The woman who continued to huff stands, straightens her clothing, and with a glare at us, stalks toward the bathroom.

The other one glances down the hall to where her friend disappeared, then shuffles our way.

“Oh, this should be good,” I mumble.

She stops directly in front of me. “I couldn’t help but overhear…”

“That’s because this one”—Sara throws a thumb my way—“is loud.”

With a nervous smile, the woman shuffles around the technician in front of me, moving closer. “Do you have any suggestions for men who are”—she clears her throat—“older?”

“How to help him get it up?” I ask, making sure there isn’t an ounce of judgment in my tone.

She shakes her head. Her gray hair doesn’t move an inch as she does. “Oh, he does just fine in that department. The, uh…” Another step closer. “The multiple orgasm thing.”

Lennox stifles a giggle and Millie mutters a “Jesus Christ.”

I have to tighten all my core muscles as well as my butt cheeks to keep from peeing myself. My son’s favorite spot is tucked up right against my bladder.

“Ya know, I actually don’t. But—” I hold up a finger and pull out my phone. “If you follow this woman’s column, I’ll make sure she gets an answer to that question as soon as possible.”

Millie leans over, peering at my phone where I’ve pulled up the Instagram page for Calliope’s Column. “Oh my god,” she groans. “Not you too.”

I frown, willing myself not to snap at my friend. “What?”

“Daniel’s obsessed with that column. If he’d ever met Calliope, you’d have some serious competition.”

A thrill works its way through me. “You don’t say?”

Daniel never stops surprising me. Obsessed with my column, is he? Could I love the man more?

At two o’clock sharp, the girls and I are standing outside the door to Ground Zero. We’ve had our bodies massaged, our nails painted, our hair curled, and our faces done up. I laughed and smiled and genuinely enjoyed every moment of our girl time. Even so, I have to fight the urge to grimace at the door in front of us. “He chose the bar for the baby shower?”

When Millie smiles this brightly, she looks so much like her twin. “Just give Danny Boy the benefit of the doubt. He did good today.”

With a dramatic eye roll—gotta keep up with the persona—I step forward and yank the door open. “Whatever you say.”

The moment I step inside, the room erupts in an eardrum-shattering “surprise.”

It’s not the number of people who are here that genuinely leaves me speechless. I was expecting a celebration, after all.

What I wasn’t prepared for—the reason I cup a hand over my mouth like Daniel does to keep me quiet during sex—is the table in the center of the room. It’s covered in stacks and stacks of books. My books. There’s even a six-foot sign with an enlarged photo of the cover of my new release and my pen name scrawled across it. “What’s happening?”

Millie nudges me forward. “Told you he did good.”

Daniel appears in front of me, a big smile on his face, wearing one of his game day suits and holding out a flute filled with what I assume is a mocktail. “Congrats, dream girl. Welcome to your very first book signing.”

I blink away the tears blurring my vision. I don’t want to miss a single moment of this. This is the good. The point of no return. That moment in a love story when finally, finally , everything the couple has been through makes sense. Because all their tribulations led here.

Here to a book signing I thought was a baby shower.

Here to the man of my dreams making another one of my bucket list ideas come true. He never stops. And I don’t think he ever will.

We’re here. My happily ever after, an ending I never thought I wanted, and we haven’t even had the baby yet. Because though our son may have been the catalyst, he may have brought us together, the foundation of our love story is built around us. Around Daniel and me. We’re as much a part of it as that one crazy night.

Daniel is my happy, and I think it’s fair to say I’m his.

I was sure I got it before. I was wrong. If I thought his feelings for me were any smaller than this huge display of his love, then I never really understood. I’m his dream girl. And he’s a wish I never could have dreamed up.

I laugh, sinking into this delirious sensation. The air must be lighter on the other side of happily ever after, because I feel drunk on joy.

“This isn’t a baby shower?”

There isn’t a baby item in sight. This is all about me. God, that realization only makes me laugh harder.

Like the man understands precisely what I’m laughing about—and I can all but guarantee he does; he knows me better than I even know myself—he steps into me and cups my cheek. “Baby showers are overrated. We’re celebrating your book baby today. We’ll celebrate our little guy when he’s born.”

“But don’t think for a second that you don’t get gifts!” Lennox yells from somewhere behind me.

Daniel rubs his finger against my lip, his dimples on full display.

“What’s she talking about?”

“They sent gifts to my dad’s house. We can pick them up later and open them whenever you want.”

Legs wobbly, I cling to him. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

It’s not that baby showers are exactly awful, it’s just that they are absolutely awful. I’ve been dreading the minute I had to sit and open gifts and coo at every item, diapers and bottles and all. Baby clothes? Sure, I can get behind cooing at cute outfits. The rest? I’ll happily let Daniel put each item in its proper spot. Let’s be honest, he’s the one with all the knowledge since he spends all his free time either giving me orgasms or watching the daddy vlogs.

“I love you too, Hannah. But since I get to see you all the time, I’m going to drag you over to your table so you can meet your fans.”

I roll my eyes. These are my friends and their spouses, our families, and yes, maybe just about the entire baseball team and their wives. I wouldn’t exactly call them fans.

When he drags me over to the table, though, I can’t help but gawk at the stacks upon stacks of books. My books. My book baby, my new release, the novel I don’t even have a copy of yet, is even here.

“How did you—Where did you—” Words fail me as I pick it up and turn it over, reveling in the weight of it, in the smoothness of the matte cover with the beautiful man on the front. The man Sara and I giggled over just a few months ago. He’s hot, but so were like ten other guys we were looking at.

“These are your preorders,” he says, hands in his pockets like it’s no big deal that there are literally one hundred books stacked high on a table. Books I wrote yet haven’t seen before today.

“Would you sign these too?” Wren Wilson appears on the other side of the table with a stack of books.

Her husband, Tom, is the head coach of the Revs. While he’s in his forties, I think Wren is a few years younger than I am. She and Coach Wilson’s daughter have been best friends for years and years. When she started dating Avery’s dad, it was the scandal of all scandals.

Obviously I loved every delicious minute when details of their clandestine affair came out. Now, like Lake and Ford and Gavin and Millie, they fit right in. They’re no different from any other married couple. Though Wren is a little wild like me, so I can only imagine how dirty those two are behind closed doors.

Daniel pulls out a chair so oversized it might as well be a throne. Once I’m settled, he hands me a rose-gold sharpie, and with a wink, he tells me to enjoy myself and backs away.

“Tell me the truth,” I whisper hiss as Wren leans in close. “Did Daniel force everyone to show up and pretend they want my books?”

“Are you kidding me?” She pulls back, brows pinched. “When he mentioned your new book was coming out, Avery and Jana and I downloaded the first in the series. I think Gianna did too, but she’d never admit to being a softie for romance.” She lets out a throaty laugh. “I finished it in a day, then made it through all six of them in a week. I am dying for this one. And now I have signed copies of them all? My followers are going to freak when they find out I know you. I posted about coming here on my socials, and the number of people who commented about being jealous was wild.” She gives me a pointed look. “Girl, this book is blowing up!”

I shake my head, hands trembling. When she pushes her stack of books toward me, I have to shake them out.

I don’t know how he did this—I don’t even know what is happening right now—but I’m going to enjoy every crazy minute of it.

I sign all one hundred books—yes, every damn one—and after at least a hundred pictures, the last one being one of Daniel and me and my book—a photo he tells me is totally going in the photo album—I’m finally seated by the bar, my feet resting on a chair in front of me, with a jug of water by my side. I’ll probably have to get up and pee ten more times before we leave, but I can’t seem to get enough water today.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Sara leans against the bar next to me. “Lennox told me she knows the cover model.”

My jaw drops. “No fucking way.”

Lennox shakes her head, but she’s laughing. “I told you not to tell her.”

“Tell her what?” Ava asks as she shuffles over. I slip my feet off the chair so she can sit, then settle them in her lap once she’s settled.

Millie lifts her chin, eyeing us from across the room. With a kiss to Gavin’s cheek, she waltzes in our direction. “What did I miss?”

Sara holds up her copy of my book. “Lennox slept with this guy.”

Ava’s eyes go wide, Millie squeals, and I practically drop my water. “You what ?”

Lennox glares at Sara, the pink-on-pink outfit taking away from the serious look she’s wearing. “Do you have a death wish? If Aiden hears you, he’ll burn this place down with all the pretty books in it.”

Sara pulls the book to her chest, lip stuck out. “But he’s so pretty.” She turns him around, petting the man’s eight-pack.

“Unfortunately the drapes don’t match the carpet,” Lennox mutters.

“The what?” Ava shouts.

Every one of us freezes and looks at her. The only time I’ve ever heard her voice reach that volume was the night she found the ridiculous contract for her marriage in War’s office.

“The outside doesn’t match the inside,” Lennox says, enunciating each word.

“Huh?” Millie’s face scrunches in confusion. “Can you speak English rather than Lennox-and-Aiden talk.”

My pink-haired friend grins. “His dick isn’t nearly as big as Hannah described it in the book.” She flicks the cover of Sara’s copy. “And he had no idea what to do with it. There were no three orgasms on the beach or on any woman’s desk, I assure you.”

I chuckle. “What can I say? The book is always better.”

As the girls laugh and chatter on, I look around at my real life. I can’t say I’ve ever read a book that’s as good as the story I’m living. With a hand splayed over my belly, I silently tell my son how lucky he is to have such a good daddy.

“He’s pretty amazing.” Sara nods at Daniel.

He’s standing across the room with his father and Gavin, holding Nash, completely comfortable with a baby in his arms.

Chest expanding, I sigh. “He is.”

“Have you discussed what comes next?” Lennox asks.

It takes effort to tear my attention away from him so I can look at her. “Next?”

“Yeah, like marriage?” Ava breaks into a slow grin.

“Just because you propose to every hot man with a baby in his arms,” I tease, “doesn’t mean I need that.”

Millie’s golden eyes swim with earnestness. “Have you talked about it?”

Only if writing about it in my column counts. He hasn’t mentioned anything about marriage since that night in Vegas. That conversation was so emotionally charged, I can’t hold him to the comment.

It’s too soon anyway. It’s not like there’s any rush?—

“Oh,” Sara says, drawing out the single syllable. “You have talked about it.”

“Huh?”

“You zoned out. Because you’re thinking about it. Am I right?”

I shrug. “We barely know one another.”

Millie slaps the bar, startling me. “That line is getting old. We all see it. You know my brother better than anyone, and I could say the same about him.”

I glance back in Daniel’s direction and find him staring at me, his lips tipped up softly. When he realizes he’s been caught, his dimples deepen, and he winks. “Having fun, dream girl?” he mouths.

I shake my head, though there’s no hiding the way my face splits into a grin. Because yeah, I’m having fun. Every single moment I spend with this man is fun. And I really hope I get many, many more moments with him. Hopefully the rest of my life.