Chapter 53

53

Several months later

After I record an episode of The Consummate Wingman , I pop into Marie’s office. “I’ve been remiss.”

She arches a brow. “I know.”

“Forgive me.”

“Only if you pay up.”

“I always make good on my bets.”

She holds out her hand. “I did enjoy the hundred dollars. Almost as much as I enjoyed being right.”

“And saying ‘I told you so’? Do you enjoy that at all? I can’t tell.”

She wiggles her fingers impatiently. “I did tell you so. I told you that you two would be more than friends. And then I predicted you’d move in together in less than six months. And you acted all independent.”

I have the decency to look sheepish. “What can I say? You were right on that count.”

I hand her the winnings on that wager. It’s far less painful than waiting longer to cohabitate would have been.

She taps her chin. “Next thing you know, I’ll be betting on when she’s going to pop out babies.”

My eyes widen. “No one is saying anything about babies yet.”

“Mark my words. You’ll be doing that after you say I do .”

“I haven’t even proposed yet.”

She shoots me an amused grin. “Seems we have our next wager.”

“And that’s how you dress for the first day on the job,” I declare as I finish typing my latest column for Gentleman’s Style .

“Why don’t you write how you undress when you come home from a hard day of work?” Truly calls out from the bedroom.

“Fine. I’ll tackle that next.” I pretend I’m typing like a madman, making the clickety-clack sound of keys. “I don’t undress myself. My lover does when I walk through the door, and she pounces on me like the hungry, naughty minx that she is.”

The hungry, naughty minx herself pops out of the bedroom, showing off sexy jeans and a snug black sweater. “Of course I do. That’s one of the bennies of living with you. Also, how do I look?”

“Good enough to eat. Like always.”

“Ooh, will you have a slice of my summer later? Maybe take a bite of the lily?”

I stand, stalk over to her, and curl my hand around her head. “No. Like I tell you every single time, I will devour your sweet, delicious pussy.”

She shivers against me. “You better. Also, stop talking about dessert, or I’m going to try to jump you at the theater. I’m feeling pretty good after that review we got on that gal’s nightclub podcast. Coco.”

I am so incredibly proud of Truly. She’s a powerful, successful entrepreneur in the city. She runs one of the best-reviewed and most popular nighttime establishments around, and the second-most as well, since she and Charlotte just opened Bisou. It means “kiss” in French, and given the sexy, romantic vibe she and Charlotte crafted for the place, it’s fitting. It’s also earning rave reviews in all the write-ups.

“Why don’t you play the review for me again?”

“Oh stop. Stop. You don’t want to hear it for the fiftieth time.”

“But I do.”

“Fine, if you insist.”

She grabs her phone, taps her podcast app, and hits play.

“ Bisou, I could kiss you. Or be kissed.

That’s how I felt when I entered the gorgeous new establishment. It drips with romance. It radiates sex. It’s exactly the kind of place that makes a gal want to throw out all her apps and meet a man in person again. Ambiance, people. That’s what Bisou has, and it has it in every single corner. From the drinks to the music to the decor, I just might try to find a way to live there.

Until then, you’ll find me at the bar, kicking a high-heeled shoe back and forth, listening to Edith Piaf, drinking my absinthe. ”

“Can I just say, I told you so?” I ask.

Truly grins at me. “Yes, you can. Anytime.”

“I’m also glad you promoted Gabriella.”

“She is a goddess.”

“I like it because it means you have more time.”

“Time to spend with you,” she says.

“You have such good time management skills.”

“That is true.”

We leave her apartment together for the theater.

Our apartment, I should say, since I’ve moved in with her.

Everything is fitting these days in our life together.

I Adam Levine’d myself these last few months. My business has taken off, and the launch of the Gentleman’s Style brand in the United States has been met with terrific audience growth and advertiser dollars. A win-win. Valerie has been pleased, and so have readers and listeners. The work I do for her brand dovetails perfectly with my cohost work with Ryder.

And I almost hate to admit this, but that Marcus bloke? He’s become a friend. Every now and then, we go out for a beer. As long as he avoids the odes to hops, we are all good.

I also told him he’d best keep his hands off my sister. Abby came to visit a few weeks ago, and I was sure Marcus was taken with her when we all went out. Turns out, he’s dating Coco, the restaurant and nightclub reviewer. Now, they seem perfect for each other.

And it’s a good thing Abby’s still single, because boys are trouble, and she has school to finish. Turns out, she took out a loan, sneaky little turkey. But I’m clever too. I paid it off for her two months later, since business has been quite good indeed.

Just focus on that whole tailbone thing, and we’ll be good , I’d told her.

Didn't I tell you? I figured out the tailbone is connected to the brachial plexus, she’d said.

Truly and I make our way to the heart of Times Square, ducking down Forty-Fourth Street and through the doors of the St. James Theater. She squeezes my hand. “I can’t believe we’re finally seeing this show. I’ve been dying to.”

“And I’ll admit that I’m pretty damn excited to see Nora onstage. She’s worked so hard, and she’s wanted this so much.”

“She’s going to be amazing.”

A few minutes later, Sloane and Malone join us, scurrying in to grab seats in the same row. They’re followed by Spencer and Charlotte, then Nick and Harper. The gang is all here. We say quick hellos before the lights dim, the music swells, and the curtain rises.

Indiana Jones treks across the South American jungle and into the cave where an idol awaits him. After he grabs it, he races past poisoned arrows, falling stones, and a boulder that zooms, not across stage but downstage toward the apron, appearing as if it’s going to careen into the audience before Indy escapes at the last possible second. The lights go dark, and the boulder presumably rises somewhere above us all.

A little later, Nora comes onstage, belting out, “Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes? Oh why, oh why, oh why did it have to be snakes?”

Turns out she was upgraded. She served as the understudy for Marion, and when the actress fell ill, Nora took over. Never underestimate the value of a good understudy.

And somewhere in this city or on its outskirts, Troy is likely giving a speech about some fella he barely knows. In fact, I’m going to see him at a wedding next weekend, and I’m looking forward to catching up.

After the show ends and we greet Nora backstage, giving her flowers she adores and compliments she deserves, we take off for our respective sections of the city.

I slide an arm around Truly’s waist. “Want to go to the Luxe Hotel for a little nightcap?”

“Not Gin Joint or Lucky Spot or Bisou?”

“I like the Luxe. It reminds me of a certain night.”

She wiggles her eyebrows. “You’re just trying to have hotel sex with me, aren’t you?”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“I like hotel sex. I like bedroom sex. I like kitchen sex.”

“Reason number five thousand, two hundred, forty-four why you’re perfect for me.”

When we arrive at the hotel, I hope to convince her of one more: that I know her. That I remember how we started. That I appreciate the little things, the big things—all the things.

We step into the elevator, and I hit the close button immediately so we’re all alone.

Just like we were the night before Enzo’s wedding. “Do you remember the last time we rode this elevator?”

She smiles magnetically. “I do. I told you I didn’t want to live in a world where you’re out of my system.”

“And I said the same. It was the first time we admitted what was happening. I said, too, that we’d figure out what to do next. Now I have another idea of what to do next.”

Her breath catches as I drop to one knee and take her hand. “The last time we were in this elevator, I knew I’d want this with you someday. I knew you were the one. You are . . . the only one for me.”

“You’re the only one for me,” she whispers.

“I could give you a speech about all the things I love about you, but I’d rather show you every day for the rest of our lives why I’m madly in love with you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

She clasps her hand to her mouth and nods as tears streak down her cheeks. “I would be honored to be Mrs. Modern Gentleman.”

Laughing, I slide a stunning diamond solitaire onto her finger, rise, and kiss the red lipstick off her lips.

“Mrs. Jason Reynolds works too,” I murmur. “And so does Truly Goodman, as long as you’re mine.”

“Always. I’m always yours.”

When we reach the twelfth floor, I take her to a suite, and we enjoy reason number five thousand, two hundred, forty-five.