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It was the mistletoe.
From last December.
The mistletoe Brandon had bought and held up between us at Rockefeller Center.
He’d kissed me.
It had been perfection. He was perfect. We were perfect.
I scrambled to my feet. I looked around for my phone and my keys. I shoved the mistletoe and my keys back in the coat pocket. I grabbed my phone off the floor and the screen lit up. December 15 was right there below the time.
It was the exact date I had met Brandon the year before. The night of the ill-fated party where I had ditched out.
Shoving my phone in the coat pocket, I started ripping out all the remaining boxes and digging through with earnest. I found what I wanted in the third box.
The red dress.
From our first two meetings.
It was wrinkled to hell and back but it didn’t matter. I tore off my clothes and shimmied into the dress. “Oh, God, that’s cold fabric,” I said to the room, shuddering. “And no nipple pasties.” Somehow, I doubted Brandon would object.
Once I was zipped in, I pulled the coat back on. I couldn’t find my heels, but I preferred the sneakers. I was going to be running anyway. It suddenly felt like I needed to get to Brandon right now. Sooner, if possible.
“Helen, wish me luck.” I took one last sip of champagne and saluted the dream catcher.
Picking up the hem of my dress, I slammed my door behind me, and took off down the stairs, taking two at a time. Yanking open the front door of the apartment, I reached for my phone to call a car.
I dropped my phone in my haste, with my cold, trembling fingers. Bending down, I picked it up off the sidewalk. When I stood, I gasped.
Brandon was standing in front of my building.
Chapter Eighteen
Brandon was wearing a suit. But better yet, he was standing in front of a horse and carriage. My heart swelled. “What are you doing here?” I whispered. “This is not the Upper West Side and that’s not a cab.”
He took a few steps forward until he was in front of me, body close to mine. “Hi,” he said, reaching up to cup my cheeks. “Happy anniversary, Dakota Tanner.”
Then he brushed his lips over mine, briefly. He pulled back and gazed down into my eyes. “I’m here to right a wrong. I should have never let you leave without at least telling you how I felt.”
Was this real life? I really, really hoped I wasn’t dreaming. Some sort of cold-and-champagne-mixed-fever dream. But it felt pretty damn real and pretty damn awesome.
“How do you feel?” I asked, spreading my palms on his chest. He felt so familiar, and smelled so good, and God, I had missed him so much.
“I love you. I think I’ve loved you from the moment you slammed into me.”
“Which time?” I asked, breathless. He loved me. Nothing could ever sound more amazing than that.
Brandon laughed. “If not the first time, definitely the second night. By the time I left here,” he gestured to my apartment building, “at five in the morning, I knew I would never be the same. I love you. I know I come with a complicated life and I can’t promise it will be easy, but I’ve let my chance slip through my fingers three times now and that’s three too many. I’m here to offer you a ride.”
“What kind of ride?” I looked at the carriage, but I had a feeling he meant more than just a trot down the block.
“One where every day is an adventure. I want a ride filled with you, laughter and great sex, and where we create a family together, with my girls and any future children you might want. You are my love story, Dakota, and I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to start writing it now. Today. Will you marry me?”
I threw my arms around him and nearly knocked him over with my enthusiasm. “I love you, too. I was just coming to tell you that and yes, hell yes, I will marry you. Nothing would be more awesome than being your wife.”
Brandon lifted me off the ground. “You’ve made me the happiest guy on the planet. Nice dress, by the way.”
Breathless from joy and laughter, I reached into the coat pocket. “I was feeling sentimental. I realized today was the day we met.” I raised the mistletoe over his head. “I found this.”
