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“But if it’s something the two of you want, then I won’t stand in your way. AJ loves you. I like you somewhat. Good enough for me.”
Dean is wearing his favorite Tom Ford suit and that’s a problem.
None of my chats with Hannah since the wedding have been too productive. Every time I’ve asked her if she’s taken the test yet, she says no. Every time I ask if she’s told Garrett, she also says no. Every time she asks if Dean and I have made up, I say no.
ME: Where are you? Then, realizing he might ignore the text, I add two words I’m certain he won’t ignore. ME: I’m worried. DEAN: All good here. I know him well. No matter how pissed he might be at me, Dean would never allow me to worry. ME: Where’s here? HIM: Newark.
“So just to recap, she told you multiple times she wasn’t ready for an engagement.” “Yeah,” I say warily. “And you absorbed that information and were like, huh, I guess I should propose, then.” I glower at him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t like that.”
He hops off the bed and races to my side. One of G’s favorite pastimes is—to quote the asshole himself—“serving as a bystander to our stupidity.”
“Wait, let me get my shoe,” Allie says, hobbling across the room on one stiletto. I narrow my eyes. “Why is it all the way over there?” “Because she threw it at my head,” growls Logan. Garrett hoots. “Such a good night,” he says happily.
“So. With that said. Will you, Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis, be my fiancé?”
“Of course I will.” My voice is so hoarse, I clear my throat before continuing. “If you’ll have me.” “Always,” Allie says, leaning into my touch. “I’ll always have you.”
Right before we fell asleep, we got a text from Joe Hayes. A simple thumbs-up. I love that man.
Congratulations on the engagement! The three of us are so happy for you! “The three of them?” Allie’s reading the note over my shoulder, her eager hands now reaching into the box. A sick feeling creeps up my throat. I have a horrible suspicion I know exactly what— “No!” she moans when the porcelain doll emerges from the box. “Oh my God, Dean, he’s on our bed! We have to burn the sheets now!” I glower at Alexander’s red cheeks and vacant eyes. “Motherfucker,” I growl. “You realize Logan would’ve had to ask Grace to overnight this? This is literal betrayal.” “Next-level betrayal.”
We both stare at the doll, neither of us wanting to pick him up and move him. I know I’m the one who opened this grotesque Pandora’s Box when I bought Alexander for Jamie, but how many times do I have to apologize? Why do these sociopaths keep sending him back?
Considering the alternative, Jamie’s princess phase is light work. Gluing rhinestones back on every night after she’s spent all day wreaking havoc in that dress is not the worst daddy detail I could get.
Without a word, I point to the counter. His face pales. “No. Unacceptable,” he growls. I feel honest-to-God tears well up in my eyes. “How is he here?” We stand frozen, staring at Alexander, who’s propped up against a basket of fresh pineapple.
I try not to shudder. Why is he wearing red shoes? And why are they so shiny? I hate him. “I hate you,” I tell the doll.
Then we stand there holding hands, watching the doll bob in the calm waves, slowly carried out to sea. “Go with God,” Tucker says solemnly. “Babe. He’s going to Satan and we both know it.” “Truth, darlin’.” When Alexander is finally out of sight, I don’t feel grief. Only relief. Freedom.
I implore Tucker with my eyes. “Let him try.” My husband remains stubbornly against the idea. “I’d rather you cut it off with a rusty spoon.” “I’m not bringing you home to Mama Tucker with one leg! Do you remember how long it took her to warm up to me?”
“That was for the plane, wasn’t it?” Tucker accuses as I’m getting him back to the house after we leave Bruce and Kevin. “I would never.” “You almost let a man pee on me, Sabrina.” “That’s how much I love you.”
“I’ve been to the beach a thousand times. First time anything ever got me. You don’t have to be scared of it.” “Sounds like something the ocean would say.”
ALLIE: omg I’m sorry. It just slipped out. My fingers took on a life of their own. Maybe Alexander possessed them. ME: Don’t you dare try to distract us. Also, Alexander is swimming with the fishes. GRACE: Wait, what? ME: We drowned him.
GRACE: No, the Hannah thing. You’re pregnant? I assumed you took the test after the wedding and it was negative so that’s why you didn’t say anything. HANNAH: I’m sorry. I’m not keeping anyone in the dark on purpose. The test was positive. Allie’s the only one who knows. HANNAH: I haven’t even told Garrett yet. ME: Is this a group chat or a den of secrets and lies? HANNAH: Don’t say anything to the guys. Please. Not until I tell Garrett.
I bite my lip after sending the response. Normally I don’t keep secrets from Tucker. I trust that man with my life. With our daughter’s life. But I also know what it’s like to deal with an unplanned pregnancy.
So I banish the news to a little box in my head labeled shut your damn mouth. Tuck will understand. He would’ve hated it with all his heart if he’d learned I was pregnant from anybody but me. Garrett deserves to hear it from his girlfriend, not us.
“I think having our daughter really encouraged both of us to make the best life for her that we can,” Tucker answers, clasping my hand under the table. “We want to give her everything. Make sure she’s always taken care of.” “Stop,” Bruce groans. “You’re adorable. I can’t stand it.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” Sabrina mumbles afterward, tucked in tight and head elevated on two pillows. “I would never.” “I know you,” she says miserably. “I don’t want to hear a sound.” “I swear.”
“Keep applying sunscreen,” Sabrina reminds me after the men leave. She tails me to our bedroom, watching me get ready. “And try not to get impaled by a marlin or whatever.” “You too. The sunscreen part.” I wink at her. “And don’t fall asleep under any trees.”
Her nose scrunches, and she looks away while she thinks for a moment. “I fell asleep for a bit after I got off the phone with Jamie. I might have forgotten.” Sighing, I just look at her. “Don’t give me that Dad look,” she warns. “Because you’re looking a bit red yourself.” “I’m fine.” Eyes narrowed, she lifts the hem of my T-shirt and smacks my stomach. I flinch. “Fuck, Sabrina. Christ.” It feels like she threw scalding water at me. It’s then that I glance down and see the stark white handprint left behind on a very red canvas. “Well, shit.” Guess I forgot too.
“How remarkable is this?” Kevin says, eyes wide. “It just came in with the tide and floated right up to our feet.” A curious Sabrina steps forward before I can stop her. “What is it?” Then she sees Alexander and starts to cry.
Turning back to Tucker, I give him a reassuring grin. “Baby, I didn’t spend three years at Harvard Law to let my husband rot in jail on my honeymoon. Watch your woman work.”
After some more back and forth and about forty minutes hanging around the cramped, humid lobby, my husband finally walks out with his personal effects in a plastic bag. “You’re my hero,” he says with breathless relief, shoving his wallet and phone back in his pockets before tossing the bag in the trash. “Marrying a lawyer means never having to spend a night in jail,” I tease as he wraps me in his arms.
“Your happiness shouldn’t be brushed off, Tuck.” He shrugs. “Your happiness is more important to me. Can’t help it, that’s just how I feel. Making you and Jamie happy is what makes me happy.”
“You’re incredible,” he growls. “You’re just saying that because you almost became someone’s prison boyfriend.” “I’m too pretty to be locked up.” Tucker kisses his way down my neck, across my shoulder.
He nods. “And just so you know, no matter what, I’m always gonna be there for you. I’ve got your back.” “I know. And I’ve got yours. I love you. Always.”
“I talked it over with the partners at the firm, and we’d like you to come work with us.” Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry—what?” “We’d like you to come work for Ellison and Kahn, my firm in Manhattan.” “You’re offering me a job?” It’s rare to catch Sabrina James off guard, but right now she looks like she’s struggling to formulate thoughts.
“From what I’ve seen, you’d make a hell of a chief operating officer.” “You can’t be serious. Just like that?” I can’t help but laugh, scratching at the back of my head to make sure I didn’t take one of those coconuts and don’t remember.
“Dean and Allie are there,” I remind her. “I’d bet his family is giving money to someone, some board member, who owes them a favor. If not, we’ll make it work. It’s a big city.” “And we’d already have friends there,” she adds, chewing on her bottom lip. “So it’s not like we’d be totally alone.” “It’s maybe not a terrible idea.” “Granted, those same friends tried to ruin our honeymoon with Alexander,
My expression darkens. “I don’t like knowing he’s in there,” I say, nodding toward my carry-on. “Maybe airport security will think we’re smuggling drugs inside his creepy head and confiscate him.”
I love that man, but the beard was nearly the end of us. If I ever see that thing again, I’m lighting it on fire.
He ignores me. “I was supposed to be your best man.” He leans past me to glare at Logan. “You realize this means when Wellsy and I have a wedding, you’re not best man number one anymore. I’m giving it to Dean. Dean, Tucker, then you.” Logan leans forward too. “No, you’re not. It’s going to be me first.” Garrett sighs. “It’s going to be you first.”
“I’ll be right here,” she promises. I don’t doubt it. Hannah Wells is my rock. I’m not one to brag, but—okay, fine, I’m absolutely one to brag.
No sooner does Connelly leave than Logan taps me on the shoulder to point out the team’s GM strutting toward us with Phil. “Got it handled if you want to sneak off,” he offers like the ride-or-die he is. “Call it a night?” I ask my girlfriend. She gives a firm nod. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Before they can corner us, we slip out the side door and make our escape.
“What?” I say, spitting out my mouthwash at the sink. She eyes my reflection in the mirror. “I didn’t say anything.” “I can hear you thinking.” “I’m not.” “You look like you want to tell me something.” “No. I swear.” “Just spit it out.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” For fuck’s sake.
She doesn’t listen, though. Never does, this stubborn, beautiful woman of mine.
DEAN: Seriously, though. Congrats. TUCKER: Proud of you.
ME: Thanks, assholes. Really appreciate it. LOGAN: How come nobody’s congratulating me? DEAN: Did you win an award? DEAN: Yeah, didn’t think so. TUCKER: Better luck next year. LOGAN: Speaking of my marriage— DEAN: Not a single person was speaking about that! TUCKER: Nobody. LOGAN: Don’t lie. You were all thinking about it.
TUCKER: Not a honeymoon. Plan something else, you unoriginal bastard. LOGAN: Uh-huh because a beach vacay is so original. TUCKER: We almost died in a plane crash and then had a burial at sea for a haunted doll. Try and beat that. DEAN: You asshole. I thought Sabrina was joking. Did you really throw Alexander in the ocean?? TUCKER: Sure did.
HIM: Your loss. We coulda cuddled.
She’s the single thing in my life I don’t have to stress about. We’re just good, always, no matter what. When everything else is out of control, this woman grounds me.
ME: Miss you. Can’t wait to get home. HER: Hurry back. Love you. It’s times like this I remember why I fell so hopelessly hard for this girl.
“They’ve got to stop sending me to these things.” “That bad?” “I feel like I should give those guys their money back.” “So I guess we can cross pro golfer off your post-hockey retirement plan?” “Shouldn’t seem that different, right?” We head toward the kitchen when he catches a whiff of the food warming in the oven. “A stick and a projectile. But half the time I couldn’t even tell where the damn ball went.”
