LEXI

I wave at my parents, blowing kisses toward them as they pull out from the curb of our apartment complex. They wave back, grinning as they cruise away from airport drop-off duty. Turning back to my brand-new, very tan husband, thanks to a gorgeous week spent honeymooning on Fiji, I raise an eyebrow. “Have you heard from anyone since we landed?”

“Not a soul.”

“I texted Lucas to see if he could pick us up, and he ignored me. Didn’t even say no!”

“Maybe they’re busy.” Brad swings an arm over my shoulder and rolls me in for a quick kiss. “Who cares? Lucas would’ve wanted to hang out afterward, hear about the trip, yada yada. I’d rather have you to myself.”

“Seriously?” I look up into the handsome face staring back at me, those chocolate eyes set against the golden glow of his skin. “How do you have any energy left?”

“We’re still on our honeymoon,” he says. “We’re not technically home yet.”

I glance up at our old apartment complex. We’d decided to stay here for the short term, though we had upgraded our digs. We hadn’t moved far—one floor up, to be exact, into a more spacious two-bedroom with a nice big balcony.

“Fair enough,” I agree. “Then again, I’m really excited to be home. You still have to carry me over the threshold, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Actually... I’ll make you a deal. If you carry my bag inside, I’ll spare you the hassle of lifting me up.”

He barks a laugh, grabs my bag, and leads the way toward the front of the building. We push the doors open and pull to a fast stop.

“You’re kidding me.” I stare ahead at the elevators, both of them looped into one big mess of caution tape. “What is happening?”

On the doors are posted various versions of Out of Service warnings.

“You know what this means.” Brad’s eyes twinkle as I catch his gaze. “I’m not walking up eight flights of stairs with both of our bags.”

I sigh. “We’re risking the service elevator?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

Thankfully, my new husband is big and buff and strong because I have no desire to drag my bag an inch further. We’ve been traveling for nearly twenty-four hours, and I’m ready to be home.

Brad makes my bag look like it’s filled with feathers, though it’s most certainly not. I might have shoved a coconut in there from the beach because it looked like Lucas’s head. Cheaper than a souvenir.

The service elevator dings its appearance. Brad hauls our stuff in first, holds the door open for me, and then presses the button for our new floor. When it begins ascending, he leans against the wall and gives a happy sigh.

“The place where it all began,” he says, surveying the space. “I’m starting to love it in here.”

“Technically, it all began when you moved next door as a kid.”

“But the good stuff began after we met here.”

“You mean, the part where we began sleeping together.”

“Well, that is a giant perk of this new-fangled relationship we’ve got going.”

“New-fangled? It’s not so new anymore.” I drop my purse to the floor and step across the colossally slow-moving elevator to nestle into the nook of his arm. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Thank God.”

Just then, the elevator jerks to a stop. “I spoke too soon,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean literally.”

Brad’s trying to hold back a bark of laughter, but it doesn’t work. His eyes sparkle, and finally, he gives up all pretense of remaining calm.

“I really just want to be home,” I say. “I’m tired, and gross, and—”

“You’re not gross. You’re sexy, and you should relax. We have all day. Neither of us have to be back to work until Monday.”

Thanks to our friends, both of our businesses have been well taken care of in our absence. Sasha, Kitty, and Rick all pitched in to manage the restaurant, along with a newly re-hired Theo who had begged for his job back with the promise to actually work this time. It’s a good thing I believe in second chances.

Bradley has spent this past year building his new gym—kitty-corner from the diner. As it turned out, Chris had a few properties in the area and was happy to unload one of them on Brad.

I can wave to my husband from behind the counter, and he can wave back from his front desk. It’s gooey sweet and annoying to just about everyone else, but I happen to love this arrangement.

Lucas is still playing hockey, and he ended up bringing a few guys from the team to work out at Brad’s gym. That brought a wave of ladies to sign up who enjoy watching the hockey pros sweat and smell disgusting.

I have no complaints because after the gym, all those sweaty guys shower off and pile over to the diner with all of their groupies. Business has never been better. People say we’re lucky, and I have to agree.

Except with elevators. Somehow, our luck seems to run out in elevators. This elevator in particular.

“I can’t believe both elevators were out,” I say. “On the one day we need them.”

“Maybe it’s a sign.”

“What sort of a sign?”

Brad lets the bags sag to the floor as his hands find their way to my waist. He traces the skin peeking out from between my halter top and my jeans, sending little shivers that ease the grumpiness from my system.

Then his hands travel up and over my back to the bare skin of my shoulders. Before I know it, he’s untied the string of my halter top and pressed his mouth to my neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I murmur, not quite wanting this to stop. “We’re in public.”

“Nobody can see us here. Don’t you think it’s fitting? Christening the place where this all began? I did warn you this might happen.”

“Brad, we shouldn’t—”

His lips travel from my neck to my collarbone, and I hiss in a breath.

“What was that?” he says, running a hand over my breasts, his thumb teasing through the thin fabric as it falls down to reveal a swatch of skin. “Do you want me to stop?”

“How are we still able to be turned on?” My leg wraps around his as my arms circle his neck. I press my forehead to him, savoring the slow burn in my stomach, the desire for him reignited. “We’ve been in bed for a week.”

“Like I said, this is still technically our honeymoon.”

“Take off your shirt.”

He slips out of that baby in record time, his hands coming to land on the snap of my jeans. The button comes undone to reveal a bright pink, festive pair of lacy panties. I was going for the island vibe. Apparently, it worked.

“You get sexier and sexier every damn day,” he says. “Which is alarming because I already can’t focus at the gym.”

“Stop talking and kiss me.”

He obeys, hooking his hands under my behind, then toppling forward as my back crashes into the wall and his hands rove over my sides. I tug him closer, he holds me tighter.

My fingers dig into his back, his lips brush my neck. He nips at my chin, caresses my skin, and then lifts me so my legs wrap around his waist.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. Bradley, we should...”

“Not be doing this.” He finishes my sentence, then runs his hand over my hip. “Wrong. Think of it as a productive use of our time.”

“What?”

“Consider it practice for baby making. You always said you wanted kids, right? We’re married now, and we have our businesses and our apartment, so... why wait?”

“Okay, but I think we could manage five minutes until we get to our apartment.”

“We’re stuck. We’re just using our time wisely—”

He’s silenced as the elevator jerks to a start.

“How’d it do that?” I ask, petrified. “We never pressed the button.”

“Or called for help.”

“Or—”

“Shit! Tie my shirt. Tie my shirt, Brad!”

The strings from my halter top are dangling, and Brad is completely naked from the waist up. I struggle to button my jeans and tie my shirt at the same time, which means neither get done by the time the doors slide open.

I realize what’s happening just a second too late.

The hallway is filled with balloons, and faces are staring back at us. Staring into the elevator and watching the shitshow that is me and Brad trying to get dressed. These are faces I recognize. Faces like my brother, Kitty, and Sasha.

“Oh, look,” Brad mumbles. “Your parents.”

I freeze, clutching my shirt to my body as Bradley wraps his around me like a towel. Our audience also has apparently lost the ability to speak until Kitty lets out a giant snort of laughter and breaks the silence.

“Surprise!” she calls, joined weakly by the rest of the group.

My brother looks like he might vomit, and I deftly avoid my father’s eye contact.

“What were you guys thinking?” I hiss as Sasha steps into the elevator and ties my halter top strings. I button my pants while Bradley slips on his shirt, and then I gather up my purse. “I mean, thank you, but seriously?”

“What were we thinking?” Lucas reacts on a ten second delay. “We were thinking it’d be funny to surprise you where this all began! We weren’t thinking you’d get it on in the three minutes you were stuck!”

“That was only three minutes?” I glance at Bradley. “Yikes.”

“Felt longer,” he agrees.

“We didn’t know you’d be here,” I say, a bit defensive. “And anyway, we’re still on our honeymoon.”

“No, that ended in Fiji,” Lucas says. “You’re home now.”

“Technically, we’re not quite...” Bradley begins, then sees my father watching him, so he shrinks to the back of the elevator. “Never mind.”

“Why does everyone keep thinking we got our start in the elevator, anyway?” I climb from it, holding the door open as Brad shuffles our bags out. “We met about a million years ago.”

“Yeah, and apparently all of your sexual tension and frustration is still bubbling over,” Kitty says. “A week in paradise, and you’re still scrambling to get your hands on one another in the service elevator.”

“Were you all responsible for the caution tape out in the front lobby?” I point at them accusatorily. “And mom, I thought you dropped me off to go home.”

“We wanted to have a surprise welcome back party,” my mother says. “That’s why Lucas and everyone ignored your messages. We didn’t want anyone to give it away.”

My dad makes a weird sound in his throat, and Bradley murmurs something that sounds like an apology. I cringe into the background and sink against Brad’s side. He’s bigger than me, so people’s eyes go to him first. I’m working on my ability to become invisible.

“Oh, people, give it up,” my mother finally says. “These two have had eyes for each other for two decades. It’s a good thing they love each other.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“We’re all adults here, so let’s move along and celebrate! There are worse things than a couple so madly in love they can’t keep their hands off each other.”

“Agreed, Mrs. Monroe,” Bradley says. “I do love your daughter, and—”

“Don’t push it, Bradley,” my mom shoots back. “She’s still my daughter, and your fly is down.”

The End