In a Rush (Friendship, Rhode Island #2)

by Kate Canterbary

Laughing, Jamie said, “Now explain why you’re holding two oranges in front of your eyes.” “Probably because my frontal cortex wasn’t fully developed and I did ridiculous things just like everyone else at that time in their life?”

His smiles reminded me of torn construction paper, jagged and unpredictable. Even his widest, truest smiles were uneven like that. And so, so rare.

“You can.” “What?” I turned the water glass, letting the condensation slick my palms. “What do you mean?” “Stop looking. Marry me.”

“The next time I’m in my feelings, I’m going to call you and you’re going to say something unhinged like you want me to carry your big-headed babies.” His brow quirked up. “I don’t have a big head.”

“I think marrying my best friend—the girl from back home, the one the media called my high school sweetheart in all of the Heisman packages because there are so damn many photos of us together after my games, the one who waited all this time for me to find my way back to her—will do the fucking trick.”

“I guess it’s nice to know I’m not at the bottom of your list or something depressing like that.” He met my eyes. “You’re the list, Em. You’re it.”

This isn’t just about me. We’re getting you all the revenge you want and then a little extra from me.” “I’ve always admired your vindictive side.” “The basis of all good marriages.”

“What do you want?” “I—I haven’t thought about it,” I admitted, and it was the truth. “Well, I have,” he said, his words low, like a secret. “And I know I want to marry you as soon as I can.”

“Ryan Ralston has a heart,” he said. “I haven’t seen it until now because you left it with her.”

“You signed it, ‘Love forever, Your (probably) future wife,’” Jamie said, zooming in on the screen. “You also wrote that it was a binding contract and even if he tossed his yearbook off a pier, you’d always have proof.” I held out my hands. “Yes, to answer your question, I have always been excessively dramatic.”

the one Ryan had texted to me all those years ago as his proof. It simply read, I’ll hold you to it. Your husband.

“How do you know her again?” Stella asked.

The obvious answer was from back home, from high school, from ninth-grade biology, from listening to music in her car during lunch all of senior year so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. But I heard myself say, “She’s my favorite thing in the world.”

So, when I found myself staring into the eyes of the only woman I’d ever loved, I knew it wouldn’t feel like work at all.

A knock sounded. I stared at it and sighed. “I told you not to come up,” I shouted. “And as you can tell, I didn’t listen,” Ryan shouted back.

“She spends most Saturday nights in bed, eating cheese and yelling at movies,” Ines added. “She needs to get out of the house.” “Thank you for that,” I snapped. “No one needed to know those details, but thank you so much for announcing them to everyone.”

He slipped an arm around my waist and the other behind my knees, and scooped me off the stair. “Be a good girl for me and keep your head down.”

“I’ll let you change. I hear it’s helpful to close the doors while doing that.” Ryan flipped open his cuffs, then the buttons on his shirt. “From the same people who recommend an orgasm a day?”

I wanted to pry my ribs open and show her my heart because I’d swear to god it only beat like this for her.

“We are a good team,” I said, watching as her tongue peeked out to catch a drop of wine. “I always knew we would be.”

To my mind, the only reason to have this much money was to give the people in my life every single thing they needed, exactly when they needed it. If my girl wanted a fresh cup of hot chocolate, she got a fresh cup of hot chocolate.

“About fifteen million.” “Dollars?” He shrugged as he unpacked a bag. We’d cleared out the fridge and cupboards before leaving. “The seller wasn’t willing to take jelly beans.”

“There’s a teardown project taking place in my uterus. Authorized personnel only.”

If there was one thing I had when it came to Emmeline Ahlborg, it was patience.

“I can’t keep my drawers on when there’s tequila involved,” Jamie said. “Honey, you don’t keep your drawers on when there’s water involved,” Audrey said. “That’s true,” Jamie mused.

He gets engaged and comes in his pants all in one weekend? He’s searching up mating bonds and wondering if you have any other hidden powers.”

After a moment, I asked, “You really want to do this with me?” “I wouldn’t do it with anyone else.”

“Talk to me while I turn into stew. I need to hear about the makeup trial. Was there a winner?” “We have some strong contenders though it’ll be a game-day decision.” “Risky but I respect it.”

“It’s more than an inch,” he said. “But I think you already knew that.” I ceased to exist.

“Are we talking about your big-headed babies again?” I asked. “Because I have some questions about how that’d work.” “No one’s had the talk with you yet?” I could hear the sharp grin in his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain everything.”

“Are you going to make me beg for you?” I asked as I tipped her head back and traced my thumb over those plump lips. “I will. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll worship you.”

When I finally dropped my gaze between her legs, I knew I’d found the center of my universe. I didn’t even need to touch her, taste her. I just knew—as if it was inevitable. My whole life was a series of moments leading up to this one.

I wanted to devour this woman. Lick and bite and fuck and mark. I wanted it all, and after all this time, all these years of wanting, she was finally mine.

Quietly, barely a gasp, she said, “I want my husband to fuck me.”

“Don’t let me go,” I said. “I won’t,” she said, “if you don’t.” It was the easiest thing in the world to say, “Never.”

“I’m hard because I want to fuck you. Because you’re gorgeous and sexy, and because I want to spend so much time in your cunt that you’ll expect me to pay rent.”

“I am a ball of goddamn sunshine and don’t you forget it,” I yelled. Then I followed it up with an ugly sniffle.

I mean, the sex was…fine. Nothing to check off the vision board but good enough. Then I woke up the next day with another UTI,” she said. “Just a standard Saturday night for me.” “I bake bread on Saturday nights,” Audrey said.

“Are we exclusive?” He looked over, his brows pinched together and his forehead creased. His scowl was a harsh, irritable line dug into his face. “We’re fucking married, Emmeline. Yeah, we’re exclusive.”

“It’s hard,” she said softly. “Always having to be strong. It’s exhausting.” “Yeah. I know all about that.” I dropped a line of light kisses across her cheek. “But I’ll block the hits for you now. It’s your turn to take it easy. You can rest.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” “I don’t know. Everything was happening so fast.” He nodded like he understood exactly how it went with bomb scares and cheap vibrators. “Next time, call your husband.”

“You’re not shy. You just need a minute to remember how it’s going to be with us.”

He rocked back for a second before sliding all the way in, filling me past the point of full, and I screamed at the perfect, overwhelming pressure. “Shhh. I’m trying to listen,” he said.

“That was what you needed, wasn’t it?” I managed a nod. I didn’t think I could speak. “Yeah, that’s my girl.”

I had to choke back an irritable growl at this fake-marriage thing. I’d sooner survive her reaching in and ripping my beating heart from my chest than I would hearing those words ever again.

She glanced down at my cock, her lips pressed together in a disapproving frown. “But I don’t know where that’s been.” “It was in the back of your throat last weekend.”

Emme belted out a deep laugh and I knew I loved my wife—and there was a good chance she loved me the same way too.

“No, no, it’s from the other weekend when I almost ended up in prison because we confused a vibrator for a weapon of mass destruction.” “Well, that’s been known to happen.”

“It’s funny,” I started, shifting against the pillows to get comfortable, “how I haven’t heard you unzip anything yet.” His smile in the dim light seemed dangerous. “Is that what you want, wifey?”

“Like I’m your wife?” I asked. “Is that how you love me?” “You are my wife,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “And that’s the only way I ever want to love you.”