Page 66 of The Best Man


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“I swear to you, Brie. On my life. I don’t speak French. There’s no way I would’ve known that …” I watch her expression, worried this moment will explode in my face the way the last one did. “Just like the tattoo. I didn’t know what it meant, just that it was in the dream. My sister, Claire—she can vouch for that. I used to scribble it all the time before I met you.”

She lifts her hands, examining them before offering a humble half-smile. “I’m shaking.”

“Are you cold?” I rise and grab a throw off the back of the couch.

Brie shakes her head. “I don’t know what I am. In shock, maybe? All these years, I’ve been wanting a sign from Kari. Something. Anything. What if … what if …”

She doesn’t finish.

I don’t think she’ll allow herself to.

“This entire thing is just as insane to me as it is to you,” I say. “But I refuse to believe all of this happened for nothing—that it means nothing. It has to mean something. You see it too, right? You feel it too?”

Biting her lip, she offers a hesitant nod—all the confirmation I need.

I go to her, breathing in her vanilla-mint shampoo and the lavender fabric softener of her t-shirt, and finally … finally, I cup her square jaw and fix my starved gaze on her mouth.

The mouth that should have always belonged to me.

“When I’m with you,” I keep my voice low, “I feel like I’ve known you a hundred lifetimes before. And I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to do this …”

I slide my hands into her hair and claim her cashmere-soft, half-parted lips with a greedy kiss. Brie melts against me with a surrendering sigh, and I pull her close. I want to feel every inch of her against me. I need to feel the way we fit together like the final missing pieces of a puzzle I’ve been working on far too long.

“I’m crazy about you, Brielle White,” I whisper, our mouths grazing as we come up for air. “And at the risk of sounding even crazier … I’m falling in love with you. And I have been since the moment I saw you.”

I think of a line from The Alchemist: She is a treasure greater than anything else I have won. And in this moment, I am Santiago and she is my Fatima.

Only our journey isn’t finished—it’s just getting started.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned thus far, it’s that love is messy, jagged, sticky, and at times, painful.

But it’s always, always worth it.

47

Brie

For years, I’ve waited for a sign from Kari.

Tonight, she finally came through.

At least I think she did. I want to believe she did. We can never be one-hundred percent sure with these kinds of things. Sometimes all we can do is listen to our heart of hearts and trust that it’s never wrong.

There aren’t numbers or mathematical equations that can explain any of this.

There are no formulas that exist to illuminate the inner workings of fate or destiny.

The concept of soulmates is only real to those who believe.

I don’t need complicated statistical calculations to rationalize that every ounce of the fullness expanding through my body as Cainan’s fingers lace through my hair … is real.

Is happening …

Is every bit as delicious and toe-curling as I dreamed it would be …

I’ve wanted this since the night of his party, when we were standing on the sidewalk exchanging secrets, my lungs flooded with the crisp night air, my body hyperaware of his presence. I didn’t let myself feel it though. Not fully. But it was there. That pull. That undercurrent of something.

His mouth is hot against mine, our bodies fused together as our tongues caress. I gather in his intoxicating woodsy scent and lift my arms around his broad shoulders, hungry for more.

I’m on fire for this man.

Desire thick in my veins.

His hands leave my hair, trail down my arms, and rest at my hips before he scoops me up. I wrap my legs around him, clinging with unapologetic greed.

My lips forage his as he carries me to the bedroom and lays me gently in the middle of the mattress, his fingers tugging at the waistband of my leggings as I pull my shirt over my head. His mouth burns against my stomach, which caves in delight as he peppers teasing kisses lower … lower still …

Sliding my panties down, he kisses trails along my inner thighs before settling at the apex. His tongue is hot along my seam as he tastes me. Every inch of me is fire and ice, melting against the covers, unable to stop writhing with impatience. But Cainan takes his time. He devours me. His fingers stroke me with gentle intention, and at times he stops to explore his hands along the rest of my body. His fingertips trail along every curve and valley as if he’s mapping my body, trying to memorize it.

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