Chapter 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

ROSIE

The party moves indoors after the tree comes down, because it’s freezing. Nicole and Emma have been going drink for drink, and Nicole gets so tipsy she starts flashing her My Sister-in-Law Swallows shirt at me within Claire’s view. So either Claire is completely oblivious, or Declan’s proposal isn’t going to come as much of a surprise.

We play Charades and Never Have I Ever, at Mrs. Rosings’s suggestion, and then everyone leaves, ferried home by town cars. Anthony and I go upstairs, where I kiss every inch of every one of his scars.

He’s so beautiful to me, inside and out.

Part of me still can’t believe that a love loser like me could trip into this situation that’s so strangely perfect. The man I want. The job I want. The life I want.

I feel a hot, liquid rage toward his father, which is frustrating given that the man’s been dead for so long there’s no feasible way for me to kick him in the balls. But I decide to funnel it into our meeting with Nina and Wilson. Part of me feels bad for Wilson, who is too agreeable for his own good, but surely he’ll be better off if he breaks up with Nina.

On Thursday morning, Anthony’s mother insists we all need to leave for the day because she doesn’t want to “ruin the surprise” of what the decorators will be doing to the house. My theory is that none of us are going to like it, she knows it, and yet she’s very attached to the way she planned this wedding and won’t have it any other way.

That’s fine by me.

I’ve never been the kind of woman who obsesses over veils or dresses. In fact, I have no idea what kind of veil or dress I’m going to be wearing on Sunday. I’ll have to figure that out, but not yet. As far as the wedding goes, I figure the more absurd it is, the more memorable it will be. So I bring Anthony to the jerky store near Balls of Fire, because he’s never tried jerky before.

After trying a sample, he declares he’ll never try it again. I buy some for Declan and Seamus, and we leave the store.

“You know,” Anthony says as we walk back toward the car. “They say dried meat, but then you taste it and it’s dried meat. I feel like a vulture.”

“I know, isn’t it fantastic?” I bump him with my shoulder, then nod to Balls of Fire. “Scene of the crime.”

“Are you implying you want to go back?” he asks, a corner of his mouth lifting. “You know, I’m surprisingly fond of that place.”

“Nah, you can never go back to the scene of the crime. Besides, I have something else in mind.”

His phone starts ringing, and he frowns and plucks it out of his coat pocket. “It’s Simon.”

“Answer it. You can hand it over if he needs to be told off.”

He gets as close to rolling his eyes as Anthony Rosings Smith is ever likely to come. “I can do it myself. I did a pretty good job of it yesterday.” He hands me the keys. “Here, you wait in the car.”

I do, and a few minutes later he slides into the passenger seat. He looks surprised but not pissed off, which is a relief. We’ve had enough trouble, thank you very much. “Good news?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “He accepted my offer. He’s going to take over the company and rename it.”

“And use your money,” I grump.

“I was hoping he would.” His smile is mischievous. “I learned from the best. Give them what they want so you get what you want. I didn’t want him to give us any trouble about the inheritance. He’s the executor of my father’s will.”

I gasp. “You stone-cold genius.” I pull him close so I can kiss his grin, and then I start the car. “We’re going on an adventure.”

Anthony checks his phone again, his lips pursing.

“What? You don’t have to work today, do you?”

“I’m going to help him with the transition, but not this week. You and I have somewhere to be at noon, though.”

“I can work with that,” I say.

And then I bring him to the paint and sip mimosas class I signed us up for to make up for the paintball debacle. Of course, I get us kicked out at the end for throwing paint at Anthony when he mistakes a building I painted for a dick.

After we leave, he takes my very shitty painting and arranges it in the back of his car, where it will almost certainly leave marks all over everything. The way he clearly doesn’t care tells me a lot about how much he loves me.

He wasn’t even going to bother to take his painting home, but I insisted I was going to hang it up in our kitchen someday.

“It’s perfect for the kitchen,” I insist as I nestle it next to mine. “Everyone has a bowl of fruit painting. It’s like something they issue to married people with the license.”

He grins at me. “Too bad it’s a bowl of paint ball pellets.”

“Even better.”

“You know,” he says, shutting the trunk of the car and wrapping an arm around my waist. “It’s truly a miracle you haven’t been arrested again.”

“I know, right? I’m almost tempted to try now that it doesn’t matter so much anymore.”

“How about you don’t?” he says with a smirk. “I’m going to make the executive call to dis-include that from any and all future bucket lists.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“I’d prefer never to spend another evening with Officer Nutman.”

I press a finger to his lips. “Not another word. He’s like Beetlejuice. If you say his name three times, he’ll appear.”

He kisses my finger, then nods to the car, his gray eyes serious again. “Get in. It’s almost time.”

My eyes widen, and giddiness spreads through my chest. I love good surprises—bad surprises can go blow a big one, but good surprises are like ice cream sundaes for the soul.

“Anthony, what did you do?”

He opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

He doesn’t tell me to close my eyes, but I do. Because I can feel the fun of it fizzing all the way through me.

He gives me updates. Five minutes. Three. Then he turns on “Time After Time,” and I laugh with glee.

“Does that mean it’s time? Can I open my eyes?”

He doesn’t remind me that I’m the one who wanted to close them in the first place. Instead, he puts one of his big hands on my thigh and says, “When the song is done.”

The last strains sound as he parks the car, and I open my eyes. The first thing I see is him, looking at me expectantly, his eyes so warm and full of light. An almost overwhelming feeling of love washes over me before I shift my gaze to the store in front of us.

A very fancy bridal boutique, where I’m bound to get plenty of side-eye in paint-splashed yoga pants and a rainbow hoodie. I really wish I was wearing something different, but on the other hand, what a transformation it will be.

Claire, Lainey, Joy, and Emma are waiting outside. Emma’s holding a bottle of champagne.

“Oh my God,” I say.

He takes my hand, rubbing over his ring on my finger. “I want you to get anything you want,” he says. “Forget reason. Forget frugality. Get whatever you want. No limit. Nothing’s too good for my wife.”

“What if I want something with sequins? Or color?”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He grins at me, obviously pleased with himself, as he should be. Then his mouth purses to the side. “And I figured maybe you’d like some bridesmaids too. If you do, get them dresses too. Whatever they want. I’m going to ask Jake and your brothers to stand up with me.”

Happy tears fill my eyes, because I didn’t realize how much I wanted that. Because I’ve found a man who brought me on a unicorn ride and is about to make me a princess. No, a queen.

He grins at me again. “They already have my credit card information. Emma’s going to drive you to the bar later. My mother and Nicole and Damien are going to meet us there.”

We made arrangements with them last night—they’re going to be sitting directly behind where we’ll be with Nina and Wilson.

“You’ve made me very happy, Mr. Darcy,” I tell him, then kiss him in a sloppy way you probably shouldn’t kiss your man in front of your friends.

When I pull away, he says, “I want to make you happy. Always. That’ll always be number one on my list.”

And, you know what? I believe him.

I’m a little drunk when Emma pulls up in front of the Peanut Bar several hours later. We’re early, because we figured it would be easier to get everyone where they need to go if we arrange ourselves before Nina and Wilson arrive.

She glances at me. “It’s a pretty dress, but are you sure you want to go through with this?”

I sit up straighter in my seat, studying her. She’s as hard to read as her mother, and as tough. Her exterior is, anyway. I like her, but I get the sense that I don’t really know her yet. I suspect there are layers to her that she doesn’t yet see herself. But maybe that’s just my fanciful side talking. “I thought you said I’d proven myself.”

“You did,” she says with a gusty exhale. “Don’t listen to me. You and Anthony are obviously ridiculously happy. It’s sickening, actually. I’ve just…”

She rubs her temples the way Anthony does when he’s overwhelmed. “I’ve seen so many relationships end in misery. It makes me doubt it’s worth it.”

“No offense,” I say, “but maybe you should find a new specialty.” I consider the possibilities.

Real estate? Boring.

Criminal law? Scary.

Finance law? Also boring.

I’m not sure what other kinds of lawyers there are, actually.

“Or maybe stop being a lawyer,” I muse.

She huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

I see Anthony’s car pull into the lot, but I don’t move to get out. Not yet.

“What happened to you?”

Emma startles. “You mean he didn’t tell you?”

“He’s not exactly the gossip express. Give me a few months to work on him.”

Her lips curve into an amused smile. “I did something stupid, and I’m paying for it.”

“That’s frustratingly vague.”

She considers this for a moment and then shrugs her shoulder. Anthony has gotten out of his car, but he notices us talking in the front seat and gives me a slight nod before entering the bar. He’s giving us time.

“I took a client I didn’t trust because I could see a big bank day from it. And she started fucking my boyfriend. Then I got fired, because my boyfriend was actually my boss.” She gives me an ironic smile. “How’s that for specific?”

“Very,” I say. “No wonder you’re in a shitty mood.”

“You think this is me in a shitty mood? I’m all glitter and rainbows right now.”

“Nice try. I know what you like to do with glitter.”

She smiles at me. “I like you.”

“Good. Do you like me enough to let me stick a can of sardines in the air vent of this guy’s car? Because if anyone deserves it he does.”

Her smile broadens. “That’s not the kind of thing you should tell your lawyer, but thanks. Now, come inside and witness something that’s bound to cheer us both up.”

So we head inside together. Anthony’s still at the bar, collecting beers for us, and I can see Nicole and Damien in the booth behind the one we’ll be sitting in. They’ve arranged Mrs. Rosings on the inside, so she’s essentially hidden.

Dom grins at me from behind the bar. “It’s our girl!”

Then he surprises me by slipping out from behind the bar and wrapping me into a hug that smells reassuringly of corn chips. So many things change in this world every day—and a part of me thrives on that—but even so, it’s reassuring to know that some things, and people, will forever remain the same. That’s how I feel about this bar. If Anthony does take it over, I’m going to petition for it to remain exactly the same.

I hug Dom back and take in the scene over his shoulder—Anthony smiling indulgently at me, and the bar, covered in mismatching bowls full of heavily salted pretzels, with the big bowl of condoms holding central court. A big handmade banner reads: On Thirsty Thursdays, We’re THE PRETZEL BAR. I did post a graphic in a few local Facebook groups, but there’s not a huge turn out yet—only a few people scattered here and there, with Gene in his usual spot. I’m not surprised. There’s still snow on the ground, and Christmas was only a couple of days ago. It’s also possible people have walked in, surveyed the pretzel buffet, and left.

Pulling away from Dom, I retrieve a wrapped package from my bag and hand it to him. Emma stopped by my brother’s house so I could grab it from beneath the tree no one feels like taking down. “This is for you.”

“Oh, shit, Ro, you got me a present?” he asks, like a kid a in candy store.

“It’s sitting there in your hands,” Emma observes archly.

Damn, she really is in a shitty mood. Then again, I’ve been in situations like hers before, and I know what a pall they can cast over everything.

“Open it,” I encourage him as I step toward Anthony. He opens his arms for me, and I step into them, leaning back into his sturdy warmth. His arms pull me closer as Dom unwraps the package.

“Oh. My. God. This is the best present anyone’s ever gotten me. Ever.”

It’s a T-shirt with the new Peanut Bar logo and the slogan Life’s better when you’re a little nutty!

“I sincerely hope that isn’t true,” Emma mutters, then grabs one of the beers from Anthony and heads back to the table where our friends are waiting.

“I thought you could maybe sell them in the bar,” I say, peering at Anthony over my shoulder.

“Your mind is the second most sexy thing about you,” he says with a smile, turning me around so I’m facing him. “You always see the potential in people. Places, too. It makes people feel like they’re not stuck just being whatever they are.”

It’s the best compliment anyone’s ever given me, and a ball of emotion forms in my throat. “So do you. You were just holding it back. Did you get your tux?”

“I did,” He says with a smile. “Did you get your dress?”

“I did, and it’s fucking hot. You’re going to be beside yourself.”

His smile stretches into a grin, and I reach into my bag for the wedding invitations tucked in there. “Dom, you’re officially invited to our wedding. Gene, too.”

“Oh man,” Dom says, “I knew there was something going on between you two. I told Gene, and he said I needed to have my glasses checked, and I told him I didn’t wear any. Of course I’ll go. Congratulations.”

He hugs both of us. Then, before anyone can stop him, he immediately strips out of his T-shirt, throws it behind the bar, and pulls on the one I got for him.”

“Did you get Gene his sign?” I ask.

“I did,” Dom beams, ignoring a man further down the bar who’s trying to wave him down. “Let’s go see it, and I can give him the invitation.”

But before we can take a single step, the door swings open, and I hear Wilson say, “Well, will you look at that? I haven’t been at a place like this since I was underage.”