JACK DARCY

I race across town, my heart pounding.

The screen on my phone is still backlit by the website Caroline had linked me to, and the article with an anonymous author who, fortunately for me, is no longer anonymous to me.

My phone rings, the screen blinking with my mother’s number. She’s called no less than five times in the past twenty minutes, probably wondering where I am. They’re due to give her the award in an hour, and she wants me and my father to be standing next to her when it happens.

I haven’t thought of what I’ll tell her yet, but tonight, there’s something more important than an award that needs my attention.

The familiar house rolls into view, and I’m grateful I had the foresight to pick up a souvenir for Allie in Florida. I grab the bag from the passenger seat of the car, having meant to drop it off at her place. Then, I had discovered that the woman I love is currently at my childhood home.

I open the garage door with the keycode and make my way into the house; the quiet stillness of home is familiar and foreign all at once, and I take just a second to adjust and catch my breath.

Once I’ve managed to take a few steps into the entryway, I hesitate, wondering why she hasn’t come to investigate the sound of the garage door opening. That’s when I spot her—the first time I’ve seen her in nearly a week—and I freeze.

She’s sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island, headphones plugged in and a half-full wine glass sitting next to her. She’s bobbing her head and singing quietly off-key as her fingers move across the keyboard. That explains her lack of concern at the sound of an intruder.

I set the bag down, a gift far too large for any occasion, but one that I’d felt Allie would appreciate—and hopefully use tonight. I take a step through the door and savor the sight for a long moment—Allie happy, jamming to her music, a smile on her lips and the slight buzz of a glass of wine giving her cheeks a pink flush.

If I could pocket this moment and save it forever, I would.

Unfortunately, I proceed to ruin the moment in the very next second, taking too big of a step forward and startling Allie right off the stool at the counter. She throws her hands up, toppling back in surprise. Her headphones are yanked from the jack in the computer, and though I lunge to catch her, I’m not fast enough.

Her headphone cord lassos the glass of wine, and it tips over, shattering into a million pieces. The bottle follows next, landing with a huge thud that sets the dogs to barking. The wine probably hasn’t helped her balance, and I feel a wash of guilt as I rush to her side and help her stand.

“Jack, what the hell?” She pops her headphones off and looks at me. “What are you doing here looking like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like James Bond! And you’re slinking around, and sneaking in here...” She shakes her head, gathering herself. “Oh, shit. The wine.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I have to. Wine stains things. This is your mother’s house, in case you’ve forgotten.”

I exhale thickly. “Nope. Haven’t forgotten. Let me help you.”

“No, Jack—” She pushes me away as she grabs a rag and begins to mop up the wine.

I grab a second one and help, despite her incessant refusals. Once the spill is mopped up, no harm done to the kitchen floor, we stand, and I watch Allie carefully as she processes all of this.

“You’re...back,” she says carefully. “How was Florida?”

“It was fine. I brought you a souvenir.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I offer, breaking the awkwardness of the week wide open. “I didn’t think you wanted me to after your message.”

“I asked for my space.” Her lips are tight as she gives me a not-quite smile. “I know you were probably busy.”

“Not too busy to call, but you said you needed to think.” I take a step closer toward her. “Have you been thinking?”

“I—” She takes a breath, eyebrows knitting together. “I guess so?”

“And?”

Her fingers reach for the table, shaking as she grasps for it. When she speaks, it’s no more than a whisper of air. “I don’t know, Jack.”

“Is this true?” I hold up my phone with the article title clearly illuminated. “Did you write this?”

“How did you find that? That’s my anonymous blog!” Her eyes blaze. “Who? Did Aimee? Caroline?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I step closer to her. “Is it true?”

She blinks, her eyelids appearing heavy as they rest closed. As I watch, misty teardrops form like glitter on the end of her lashes.

“And so, in conclusion,” I begin to read aloud, my voice shaking as I pick the last paragraph from the passage that spills Allie’s most innermost thoughts about someone that sounds a hell of a lot like me on the internet. Thoughts that make fireworks light my heart with hope. “I have every reason to want to stay away. But there’s only one Pro on my list that matters at the end of the day.”

Allie bites her lip, waiting for me to spout the last line aloud.

I don’t, however, have any plans to read further.

“If it’s true, I want to hear it from you,” I tell her. “Aloud.”

Her eyes flash open, glistening bright. “Jack, I shouldn’t, we can’t—”

“You’re more important than anything in this world to me. Whatever anyone told you about us not being together is bullshit. The only reason we shouldn’t be together is if you don’t love me.”

“But—”

“Don’t.” I move another step closer, the last possible step I can go without crushing her against the table. We hover, centimeters apart. “If you don’t want to be with me, have the decency to tell me to my face. I love you, Allie Jenkins, and if this article is a lie, you need to tell me now.”

“No.” Her lip quivers. “You weren’t ever supposed to find this.”

“But I did.”

“She’ll ruin you.”

“Who, my mother? I have my own career. The most she can do is cut me out of her will, and to hell with any inheritance—you and I both learnt from the time we could understand money that it didn’t buy happiness.”

“You’ve worked so hard to keep her in your life all of these years.”

“I’m not cutting her out. We’re not doing anything to hurt her. I love that you care about me and my family, but Allie...” I raise a hand, brush my thumb against her tear-stained cheek. “Tell me you love me, and I won’t care about anything else. Anyone else.”

“That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you!” She bursts forward with this, a new wave of tears pooling there. “I love you, Jack, and you’re the best friend I could’ve ever hoped to have.”

“I want to marry you, Allie Jenkins.” I step into her, closing the crater that’s kept us apart for the past few days. “This has been the longest fucking week of my life.”

“Tell me about it,” she murmurs. “There wasn’t a second I wasn’t thinking about you.”

“Why didn’t you call?” I whisper into her hair as her arms circle my neck. I hoist her onto the table, and her legs wrap around my waist. “I would’ve jumped on a plane and come back in a second.”

“You needed, and still need—to do you. You have a career, an amazing career, and—”

“I turned the job down.”

“What?!”

“I turned it down. I want, I need to be with you,” I tell her. “More than anything in this world. I love my family, I love my career, and I love you more.”

“I want to be with you, Jack,” she says, her soft, sweet lips peppering kisses against my lips. “Forever and ever.”

I dive into her, savoring her sweet scent, the floral taste of wine lingering underneath. Her hands dance over my shirt, pulling, begging, tugging, until she changes course and reaches for my zipper.

“Please,” she whispers, her eyes big, illuminated.

There’s no time for me to reconsider as I inhale her scent, bask in the wholeness that is Allie. I lose my pants, help her out of hers, and perch her on the edge of the table. Before I can say her name, her head is thrown back as her legs spread for me, already warm, wet, ready.

“God, I love you, Allie,” I murmur, as I push into her. “I could stay here all night.”

But Allie has other plans. A single moan, a grind of her hips, and we’re off. There’s no patience, no softness this time, just a sense of urgency, of losing ourselves utterly and completely right here in the kitchen.

Her fingers dig through my shirt as I hold her hips tight to me, unwilling to ever let her go. She’s the only thing that matters to me, the only beacon of light driving me to shore.

The wine, the absence, the declaration of love—something is different about Allie, and she takes all of me this time. Gives and takes, gives and takes with everything in her.

“Honey,” I murmur. “I can’t last any longer.”

“Jack...” Her hands dig through my hair as she grits out my name, but whatever she’s about to say next gets lost in her cries.

Her head falls back, her mouth parts, and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. I bury myself in her, my face in her neck, my lips on her throat, as I match her pace, every beat of us in sync as we ride out the pleasure together, erupting as one.

“Wow,” she says, offering a bright, shy smile, once she’s caught her breath. “That was so fun.”

“Well...” I run a hand through my hair. “That is not what I expected you to say.”

“I want to do it again,” she says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “But hold on a second. Your suit. Oh, crap!” The light in her eyes flickers as she puts the puzzle pieces together. “You are supposed to be at your mom’s award ceremony. Like...right now!”

“Like I said, some things are more important.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Me? Or sex?”

“Both?”

She laughs, her head falling forward to rest on my chest. “I really do love you, Jack. I guess I sort of always have.”

“I love you, too.” I let my hands tug through her hair, a wild mane of sex hair that has me pretty proud of my performance. “So,” I lean back, matching her raised eyebrows with one of my own. “That pro and con list...”

Her cheeks turn pink. “Shut up. It was supposed to be anonymous.”

“No, no, I’m quite happy your blog exists,” I tell her. “The part I’m wondering about is number seven, is it? Motorcycle hair? That’s what does it for you?”

“Jack!” She screeches at me, lightly punching my shoulder, and I envelope her with both of my arms.

“I’m not complaining.” My lips press against her forehead. “I’m just commenting.”

“It’s really sexy.”

“How sexy?”

“So sexy I’d consider...” She leans back, her eyes trailing suggestively down my body. When she gets to my pants, she grins, and then pulls her eyes back up to my face. At the last second, she remembers the issue with round two. “You have to get going.”

“If I didn’t have to go, would you drag me into the bedroom and have your way with me?” I ask. “Er, my bedroom? At my place? Or here. Or, wherever.”

“You’re insatiable,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But yes, I definitely would.”

“I can skip the ceremony.”

“Go,” she says with a wink. “But don’t make plans for later.”

“I have one more thing that can’t wait. Hold on a second—don’t get dressed yet.”

She frowns as I tug my suit back on and leave the room briefly to retrieve my souvenir. When I return, I get down on one knee, digging through the large bag for the item I need.

“Jack,” Allie says, and there’s a hitch of nerves to her voice. “When I said I wanted to be with you forever, I meant—”

“I’m not proposing,” I tell her. “Though I can arrange for a ring if you’d like.”

“Er, right.”

I pull the first of two presents I’d retrieved while in Florida for her, hoping she’d use them tonight. Not knowing if it’d be a waste of cash, or the best money I could’ve spent.

“First,” I tell her, bringing out a box that would fit a size seven foot. “Are these the ones I ruined?”

She squeals as I unearth a shoe, hands clasped to her mouth. They’re brand new, fresh off whatever magazine is in style these days. The sales clerk had promised me Allie would love them. He’d been right.

“Oh, Jack!” She fans her face. “These are...” She can’t even speak, gasping as I give her one to hold.

I take her bare foot and ease the other shoe onto it. “Looks like it fits, Cinderella.”

“From the night at the ocean,” she says, blinking so fast it’s suspicious. “Jack, you didn’t have to replace them.”

“That’s not all.”

“What?”

“I showed the sales clerk a picture of you, and he convinced me that this would match the shoes.” I pull out the long, silver gown from the garment bag. It’s completely Allie. Shimmery, subtle, and incredibly elegant. In it, she’s sure to win the eyes of whatever room in which she steps. “I was hoping you’d come to the ceremony with me.”

“Jack, I can’t—I’m being paid to stay here.”

“Don’t worry about it. They’ll survive for a few hours.”

She stands, a hesitant smile on her face. “Your mom is going to kill me first, and then you.”

I give her a tight smile. “Let me worry about that. You just worry about getting ready to go.”

Ten minutes later, Allie’s still changing in the bathroom, and I’m looking at my watch. We really do have to move, but I’m hesitant to rush Allie. She’s nervous as it is, and I don’t want to put any more pressure on her.

Even so, as I lean against the door, about to knock, it opens from the inside.

I step back, my jaw unhinged, as I stare at the beautiful sight before me. Allie’s perfectly exquisite, from the top of her swooping hairstyle to the tips of the toes poking out of her brand-new shoes.

“You’re...” I rest a hand over my heart, feeling it thump. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Since this feels like a fairytale,” she says, tapping her Cinderella shoe on the floor before peeking around me. “I expect to ride a pumpkin chariot to the ball, Jack Darcy.”