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Izzy looks over her shoulder. Cooper is leaning right next to a beautiful watercolor, gesturing with his wine cup as he talks to a young woman. She doesn’t seem that interested anyway, but I have a feeling Cooper is about to strike out thanks to Hurricane Izzy.
“I’ll bet I can make her think he has an STD,” she declares.
“Wait,” says James, but she’s already striding across the room. He sighs, turning to me. “You look beautiful, by the way. Who are the flowers from?”
“My mother.”
“That’s sweet. My parents have a bouquet for you too.”
“She’s over there... talking to your mom,” I say as I realize what I’m seeing. “Oh God. She works fast.”
James glances over. “I think that was my mom, actually,” he says. “She’s been dying to meet her. But what’s up?”
“My mom talked to me before the show started. She’s selling the diner.”
He pulls me into a hug so quickly I nearly spill the wine on the floor. “No fucking way!”
“Yes!” I hug him back, unable to keep myself from laughing. We probably look ridiculous, but right now, I don’t care. The whole gallery could stare, and I wouldn’t give a shit. All that matters right now is him. “Yes. She’s selling it.”
His grip on me tightens. “Princess. Please tell me that means what I think it means.”
I pull back far enough to kiss him. Even in heels, I’m up on my toes, cupping his neck with my hand. I look into his ocean eyes, and I see a million possibilities. A future we can share. I see love and desire and everything I thought I couldn’t have, in between shades of blue.
“Yes,” I murmur against his mouth. I grin, feeling him smile in turn. “Wherever you go, I’m following.”
Epilogue
James
April, Two Months Later
Bex kisses me again, panting softly against my mouth. “Wait, baby. Wait. When does the show start again?”
I keep fingering her, scissoring the two fingers inside her as I slip my thumb against her clit. She gasps, her next protests lost. She’s right, we need to get back to the waiting area—the producer who came by before we slipped away warned us that it was almost time for the televised portion of the draft—but I can’t help myself. I want her to come, I want us to be the only ones in the whole crowd who know what we just did. My family is probably wondering where we are, but whatever. They can wait.
What matters right now is making my girlfriend feel good.
She clutches at my arm, but doesn’t try to move me away. I kiss her neck, resisting the urge to give her a visible love bite, and work in a third finger. I swallow her moans even though I wish I could make her scream; it’s good enough to feel her clench around me, shaking as she comes. I ease out my fingers, letting her down from where I’d pushed her up on her tiptoes against the wall.
“Holy shit,” she murmurs, looking a little dazed.
I kiss her again. “Fucking gorgeous.”
She shakes her head as she rearranges her dress. “I can’t believe you just did that. We’re about to be on television!”
I lick her slick from my fingers, relishing in her taste. “I have it worse. I’m hard as hell and just have to live with it.”
She shakes her head. “No way. You got yourself into this mess, I refuse to feel sympathetic.”
When we look presentable again—although my shirt is a little wrinkled, and Bex insists her hair doesn’t look the same—we peer out of the supply closet. The coast is clear, so we walk out, trying to look casual.
“I’ll go around this way, you go around the other way,” I say. “If anyone asks, I got caught up saying hello to some old teammates from LSU.”
She rolls her eyes fondly. “I’m just going to say I was in the bathroom.”
Ironically, I do run into a couple of people I know on my way back to the waiting area, so when I do manage to get back to my family, Bex is already there, deep in conversation with Sebastian. She’s still a little flushed. I wink at her as I sit down.
She rolls her eyes, waving her hand at me.
