Costars (New York City Bad Boy Romance) (113 page)

“Thanks,” he says and,
after getting dressed more quickly than anyone I’ve ever seen, he’s out of the
bedroom.

I contain myself long
enough to walk him out the rest of the way, but as soon as the door’s closed
behind him, I’m on the floor with my back to the door, curled up and laughing.

It’s not a mystery. I
know exactly what I want and what I need. I can only hope that he’s still awake
right now. It’s after two o’clock in the morning.

*
                   
*
                   
*

So it’s after four now,
and I can’t sleep.

I called Dane, but he
didn’t answer. He’s probably asleep, but I can’t help feeling that he just
didn’t want to take the call.

As odd as it may sound,
I’m actually wishing I could go back to embarrassing the crap out of myself in
front of a guy who I would have made posters of and dreamed about only a few
months ago.

I left Dane a message. It
wasn’t much, but it should communicate my meaning.

“Hey, Dane, this is
Leila. I’m sorry about the way I left and, well, for a lot of things, but I
really do miss you and wanted to let you know that I’m done ignoring your
calls. Anyway, I hope you’re having a good night. Bye.”

Not over the top, but
enough. Except I’m the one who left and I’m the one who blinked first. I know
that shouldn’t matter, but I feel like I’ve just been toying with him.

I haven’t been toying
with him. I honestly thought that me moving and him staying there meant there was
no hope for us as a couple, but if he’s feeling half of what I’m still feeling
toward him—I don’t know, it’s got to be worth the risk.

I fall asleep and have
some of the strangest dreams I’ve ever had. When I wake up, my head is
spinning.

It’s still dark and my
phone is ringing.

I reach over to the
nightstand and answer.

“Hello?”

“Shit, did I wake you?”

I sit straight up in bed.
“Dane?”

“Leila,” he says. “I got
your message.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,”
I tell him. “I know it was late, and I was kind of drunk.”

The line is quiet for a
few seconds.

“Oh.”

“What’s up?”

“Oh,” he says. “I just
got your message and wanted to call and see how you’re doing.”

“I’m doing okay,” I tell
him.

It’s funny, I’ve spent so
much time pretending that I wasn’t hoping for a moment like this and now that
it’s here, I have no clue what to say.

“How are you?” I ask.

“I’m all right,” he says.
“I’m just hanging out with Wrigley.”

Suddenly I’m beginning to
understand why he actually called. He doesn’t want to talk about getting back
together or anything like that at all. He just wants to make me feel like shit
for leaving him the way I did.

Maybe I deserve it, maybe
not, but I’m in no mood for it.

“Well, that sounds
great,” I tell him and hang up the phone.

I walk out to the kitchen
and pour myself a glass of water. With a sigh, I open the cupboard and pull out
the little bottle of ibuprofen and take a couple.

Now, I’m walking back
toward my bedroom, and I can hear the phone ringing, only this time, I’m not so
thrilled about the idea of answering it.

The ringing stops and I
lie back down, setting the water on the nightstand.

A moment later, the phone
rings again, startling me into sitting up again. I silence the ringer and just
lie back down.

I don’t want to hear
about how he and Wrigley “rediscovered” each other or about how much fun
they’re having together. If he doesn’t want to be with me, that’s fine, but I’m
not going to sit here and listen while he rubs it in my face.

You know what? I’m going
to give him a piece of my mind. I pick up the phone.

He’s calling again.

That’s as good an
opportunity as I’m going to get, so I answer.

“Listen, I get that
you’re pissed at me, but I don’t know what kind of nerve you have, calling me
up to tell me that you’re back with her. I still care about you, Dane, and I
know I hurt you. I know that what I did was wrong, but that doesn’t give you
carte blanche to throw your relationship in my face. I mean, who
do you
think you—”

“I don’t care that you
live in another state, I want to be with you.”

“—are, seriously. What
kind of asshole…” I trail off. “What did you just say?”

“I said that I don’t care
if you live in New Jersey and I live in New York. I love you, and I want us to
be together. I can’t move right now. I have to finish getting Wilks ready to take
l’Iris
, but I’ll buy a car, I’ll take the bus. I
don’t care. I want to have you in my life, and I don’t ever want to go another
day without seeing you. Ever.”

“What about Wrigley?” I
ask. “I thought you said you were back with her.”

“No,” he says. “I’m
hanging out with her. I was stupid not telling you that I’d do anything, even
go long distance for a while, just as long as it meant that we could be
together. Wrigley helped me get past all my bullshit and realize that. I know
we have a lot more to learn about each other, but if you’re willing, I’d love
to give us another shot. I really think we have something unique and I’m
willing to do whatever it takes.”

Wrigley as couple’s
therapist: that’s an unexpected development.

“Leila?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m here.”

“What do you think?”

Hmm… What
do
I think?

Epilogue

Two
Years Later

Leila

The groom is anxious as
he waits for the rest of the procession to come forward so his bride can enter.
This is the biggest moment of his life, and that feeling isn’t lost on him.

After what feels like
hours of waiting, the best man and I make it to the front. The best man gives
the groom a hug and then smiles at me. Throughout these years, I’ve enjoyed
helping the groom get to this place more than almost anyone else. Anyone except
the woman he’s going to marry.

The music changes and
everyone stands.

The groom is starting to
sweat.

His wife-to-be is
stunning in her dress. It’s classy, but just revealing enough to get a couple
of the parents in attendance to cover their children’s eyes.

The groom smiles when he
sees this.

Today isn’t one of those
things that just happened over night. It took a lot of hard work and a lot of
luck, but it’s clear enough that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be in the
world.

The bride gets to the
front and stands across from her fiancé.

She can see the
nervousness in his body language, but she doesn’t seem worried. He smiles at
her sweetly and she smiles back.

The judge starts the
ceremony.

“Love is a powerful
thing,” the judge says. “It can lift us up and it can make us feel and do
things we didn’t know were possible. When two people love each other, as you
do, every one of us finds ourselves uplifted.”

The judge is a bit
long-winded, but the bride and the groom are too busy staring into their
futures to mind.

“…we are here to
celebrate the love of these two people, who have brought all of us together…”

After a solid ten minutes
of monologue by the judge, the best man nudges the groom, whispering,
“
Are you ready for this?”

The groom whispers back,
“I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

“…now, take the ring and
put it on her finger, repeating after me, I, Michael Jason Nielson…”

“I, Michael Jason
Nielson,” the groom repeats.

The judge continues, “Do
take you, Wrigley Samantha
Moirea
—
Moire
—
Moireas
—”

“Do take you, Wrigley
Samantha
Moireasdanach
,” Mike jumps in.

“I’ve been practicing
that all morning,” the judge says. “My apologies.”

The stumble is good for a
laugh.

“To be my lawfully wedded
wife,” the judge concludes.

“To be my lawfully wedded
wife,” Mike says, slipping the finger onto Wrigley’s hand.

“And would you repeat
after me, I, Wrigley Samantha, please state your last name.”

Wrigley’s smile is wide
and beautiful and she giggles as she repeats, “I, Wrigley Samantha
Moireasdanach
.”

“Do take you, Michael
Jason Nielson.”

“Do take you, Michael
Jason Nielson.”

“To be my lawfully wedded
husband.”

“To be my lawfully wedded
husband.”

She puts the ring onto
Mike’s finger and the two hold hands.

“Now, by the power vested
in me by the state of New York, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss
the bride.”

The two kiss and make
their way back down the aisle, now as husband and wife. There may have been an
order to the procession coming in, but on the way out, everyone just clamors to
follow the newlyweds.

At the reception, an hour
later, the best man sees me sitting at the bar, nursing a drink.

“That was a beautiful
service,” he says.

“Yeah, it was really
nice,” I answer.

“So, have you known the
bride and groom for very long?” he asks.

“I’ve known the bride for
a few years,” I answer. “The groom and I actually go way back.”

“Ah,” he says. “So
today’s kind of bitter-sweet for you, then.”

“What do you mean?” I
ask.

“Well,” he says, “it
sounds like the two of you have some history.”

“Oh, no,” she scoffs. “It’s
nothing like that. We’re just old friends.”

“What are you drinking?”
he asks.

“A tequila sunrise,” I
answer. “I don’t drink that much anymore, but when I do, I don’t know if it’s
the taste or the colors, but I just love these.”

“Mind if I sit with you a
while?”

“Not at all,” I say.

“You know what I think is
funny about weddings?” he asks.

“What’s that?”

“It’s so much buildup and
the ceremony is always over so quickly.”

“I don’t know: that judge
went on for quite a while. I’m pretty sure that at one point he compared love
to a tollbooth.”

“Yeah,” he snickers. “I
think I remember that part.”

“So, you’re saying you’d
never want to get married?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he
answers. “I mean, I can understand the draw. I guess I just haven’t found the
woman of my dreams yet.”

“Really?” I ask, smiling.
“You look like the kind of guy who’s found dozens of women of his dreams.”

“What’s that supposed to
mean?” he scoffs.

“It’s the tattoos,” I
tell him. “They kind of paint you as a degenerate.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know
that I’ve caught your name. Both the bride and groom told me, but I’m just
terrible when it comes to people I haven’t had a conversation with.”

“Leila,” I answer. “Leila
Tyler.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”
he says. “I’m Dane Paulson. You know, I used to know a woman named Leila. She
was into some pretty weird shit.”

I smack him on the arm
and say, “I bet she was not.”

“No,” he says, chuckling.
“She totally was. She used to have this weird ass fantasy about being picked up
in a bar by her significant other.”

“I think that sounds very
romantic,” I say.

“Yeah, if you’re weird,”
Dane answers.

“You’re pushing it,” I
warn, but my smile breaks through. “What are you drinking?”

“I don’t know,” Dane
answers. “To be honest, I’m not very thirsty right now.”

“Oh? I would imagine a
guy like you would be going insane over an open bar.”

“Not really,” he says. “I
find people who drink to be rather boring. You know they only drink to put on
the illusion that they’re interesting.”

“Oh, ha
ha
,” I mock.

“That’s not why I came
over here, anyway.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “Why’d you
come over here, then?”

“Because I think you’re
absolutely gorgeous, and I know this may sound a little forward, but would you
like to find a closet somewhere and fuck like bunnies?”

“A little forward?” I snort.
“Does that line ever work?”

“At least once,” Dane
answers, “I’m hoping.”

I down my drink.

“You know what?” I ask,
“why not. Maybe I can teach you a few things. You come off a little
inexperienced with women.”

“I am,” Dane says and
takes my hand.

I walk in front of him
for fairly obvious reasons, but we’re delayed a minute when the bride and groom
rush over, arms outstretched.

“Help me,” Dane whispers.
“Wriggles,” he says, turning just enough to hug Wrigley with his upper body
while I generously ease my butt against his front while I hug Mike.

“Dane!” Wrigley squeals.
“I’m married!”

“I know! Congratulations!
You two are going to have such a wonderful life together.”

“Thank you,” she says and
leans into his ear. “Real smooth with the positioning there, chief. I’m sure
nobody’s figured it out.”

She gives him a kiss on
the cheek and a moment later, she’s putting her arms around me, ever so gently,
but ever so effectively moving me just far enough away from Dane to expose his
rather embarrassing situation.

With gritted teeth and a
smile, he casually rests his hands over the offending bulge in his pants and
says, “Thanks, Wrigley. I’m so glad you guys came over.”

“Hey Dane, thanks for
standing with me today,” Mike says.

“It was an honor,” Dane
answers.

Fortunately for Dane,
Mike is happy enough with a handshake.

“Well,” I say, “I’ve got
to head out to the, uh—”

“The car,” Dane
interrupts. “She forgot something, and I’m going to help her look for it.”

“Don’t forget to lift the
hood,” Wrigley says, beaming.

“Oh, shut the fuck up,”
Dane says. “Congratulations, you two.”

We make their way through
the reception hall and find the nearest unlocked door without anyone inside the
room.

It’s a small room, full
of flowers.

“Do you think Wrigley’s
going to mind if we do it in the bridal suite?”

“I don’t mind,” Dane
tells me and we’re locked in a passionate kiss.

“Help me get my dress
off,” I say.

“Leave it on,” Dane
answers.

“Pantyhose?” I ask.

“Dealer’s choice,” he
answers, kissing my neck and chest.

It’s a little tricky with
Dane all over me, but I manage to slip off my panty hose, and a moment later,
I’ve got the front of Dane’s slacks open and he’s sliding my dress up my
thighs.

I lean back against the
wall and put one leg around Dane’s body, guiding him toward me.

He runs his tip against
my opening and I’m already so wet.

Dane puts himself inside
and we let out a pleasured sigh together.

“You know,” Dane says,
kissing my lips and neck, “we won’t be able to do it like this too much
longer.”

“Shh,” I tell him.
“You’re not supposed to know I’m pregnant. I’m not showing that much in this
dress, and I haven’t told you that yet. I’ll probably wait until after you’ve
got me to come a few times, so if you bail on me, at least I’ll have gotten
something out of it.”

“You’re so fucking
weird,” he says. “But I like that, whatever you said your name was.”

“Yeah,” I scoff between
sharp inhales. “
That’s
attractive.”

I open the front of
Dane’s shirt and kiss his smooth, firm chest.

“What does this tattoo
mean?” I ask, pulling him tighter with my leg.

“It means ‘virile
warrior,’” he answers.

I smack him on the chest,
saying, “Oh, it does not.”

“Got it when I was
eighteen,” he says.

“
Gotta
move,” I tell him. “Baby’s kicking.”

“Oh my god,” Dane gasps.
“You’re pregnant?”

“Oh, shut up,” I say.

“Hold on, I
wanna
feel it,” Dane tells me.

He bends down and puts a
hand on my stomach. Our daughter moves under his gentle touch.

“I really don’t think I’m
ever going to get over that,” he says. “That is so amazing.”

The door to the bridal
suite opens and Dane is quick to stand up. He’s facing the wall, but he’s still
hanging out the front of his pants.

“Hey you guys!”

Of course it’s Wrigley.

Dane mutters, “You
wanna
distract her a minute?”

I smirk. “We were looking
for the bathroom. Would you mind showing me where it is?”

“It’s down the hall on
your left,” Wrigley says. “So Dane, what are
ya
doin
’ over there looking at the wall?”

“Oh, can we not do this?”
he asks.

“It’s not like it’s
anything I haven’t seen,” Wrigley quips. “I’m just kidding. I just wanted to
let you two know that we’re going to be cutting the cake in about five
minutes.”

“All right,” I tell her,
“thank you.”

We hug.

I never thought I’d be so
close with Wrigley of all people, but after hearing everything she did to help
guide Dane and I together, all my enmity toward her dissolved.

“Thank you for
everything,” I tell her.

“You’re welcome,” Wrigley
says. “Thank
you
for introducing me
to Mike.”

There’s the sound of a
zipper going up and Dane finally turns around.

“Five minutes, huh?” he
asks. “Any chance I could talk you into making it fifteen?”

Wrigley and I both roll
our eyes.

After the cake is cut and
all remaining rice is thrown and the bride and groom are off for a weekend of
marital debauchery, Dane and I get in the car for the drive home.

“You know,” he says, “I’m
kind of glad you almost hooked up with that fireman?”