Final Call (The Call #2) (34 page)

“Of course you can,
baby. Just not in the place you told me you loved me for the first
time.”

“You remember
that.”

“I never forgot. I
didn’t forget anything. I just chose not to remember it the way you
did. Now I know something is up, so don’t sit in front of me and
tell me it isn’t.”

His lips quirk, teasing
into an amused grin. “Don’t freak.”

“I don’t freak.”

His eyebrows twitch,
the amusement in his eyes evident, and he reaches into his pocket.
My heart stops at the small box he places on the table, and I can’t
breathe as he slides it across to me.

“What. Is. That?”

“Open it.”

I know what it is. I
think. You don’t book the most exclusive restaurant in Paris to
give someone a pair of fucking earrings.

What is happening?

I take the box with a
shaky hand and open it. A glittering ring stares back at me, a
simple design, classy and elegant, and I look up at him. To the
ring. To him. To the ring. To him.

“It’s not what you
think,” he says slowly, his lips curved even through his words. “So
you can breathe, Dayton.”

I laugh awkwardly. “Um,
if it’s not what it looks like, then what is it?”

He reaches across the
table and takes my hand in his, kissing my fingers. “It’s a promise
ring. Not an engagement ring. I’m promising you that one day, when
you’re ready, I’ll ask you. This is me promising you that I’ll be
yours without you having to voice the same commitment, despite its
truth.”

A lump forms in the
bottom of my throat, and I blink harshly as I swallow it down. A
promise ring? Like…

“Oh hell no, Aaron
Stone.” I take my hand back and shut the top of the box. “If you’re
going to promise me you’ll be mine for the rest of my life, you’re
gonna do it properly or not at all.”

I shoot the box across
the table and fold my arms across my chest. A promise ring indeed.
What the hell is—

What the hell is he
doing sliding off his chair and bending in front of me? On one
knee?

“I was hoping you’d say
that,” he murmurs, “so I came prepared.”

Oh shit. Oh shit oh
shit oh shit.

He pulls a second box
from his jacket and leaves it closed as he stares up at me from his
position on the floor. My mouth opens and closes again. It does
this a few times as this crazy moment hovers between us.

“Seven years ago, you
exploded into my life in this crazy burst of color that made me
blind to everything else. When you left, you took it with you,
leaving me in an ugly world of black and white. Then, four months
ago, you did it again.

“When you walked into
that booth in a crazy twist of fate, Dayton, I realized that
nothing would ever be the same again. I realized that, this time, I
had to keep you and not let you take that color I was, and am, so
incredibly in love with.

“I know it didn’t work
that way. We’ve both made mistakes, but that doesn’t matter. What
matters is that we’re here, right now, and we have the rest of our
lives to be together. What matters is that I’m never letting you go
again. I’m never even giving you the chance to leave.

“And since you refuse
to accept one promise without the other, I’m asking you to promise
me the same thing. That you’ll be there every morning and every
night. That your voice will be the first and last thing I hear
every day, that your touch will be the one to calm me when I’m
angry, that your lips will be the ones I get to kiss whenever the
urge takes me.”

He pauses, and forever
could pass in this moment and I wouldn’t know. All I know is that I
can’t look away from this man in front of me as he bears his soul
to me and asks me for the one thing I never imagined I’d be able to
give.

He slowly opens the
box, revealing the most beautiful princess-cut ring I’ve ever seen
in my life. The diamond glitters up at me, beckoning me, promising
me the future.

“So whenever you’re
ready, Dayton Lauren Black, will you marry me?”

Epilogue

Four Months Later

“No, no, no!” I drop my
forehead to the table. “Why is this so hard for them to get right?
Champagne and ivory are not the same color. The seat sashes are
supposed to be champagne, not fucking ivory!”

Liv pats my shoulder.
“There, there, Bridezilla. You have three months still to chew
their asses out until they get it right.”

“Liv, with the amount
Aaron is paying them to get it right, I shouldn’t have to be
chewing asses.” I sigh and straighten again. “This is crazy. Why
can’t we just elope in some tropical country and get married
without all this fancy crap?”

My best friend laughs
and shuts the laptop down. “Okay, babe. Let’s get you a drink. You
and I both know you wouldn’t want to have this any other way.”

“I know. I just… It’s
three months away and already I’m being bogged down by shit. Why
can’t these people just get things right?”

Two glasses of wine
appear on the table between us. “Listen to me, Dayton. You will get
this fixed. Has Aaron chosen his best man yet?”

“Yes. He had him picked
three months ago. He just got his ass in gear and asked him.”

Finally. He can’t even
use the whole face-to-face excuse because Tyler moved to Seattle a
month after Aaron popped the question. No, he’s just been lazy
about it.

“Who is it? Anyone hot
and rich from his company?”

I snort at the way she
perks up and reopen the laptop, bringing up my email. “His cousin.
Although, Tyler is hot and rich. And kind of from the company. I
mean, he’s a photographer. He’s the guy training me. I don’t know
how you two haven’t met yet. Hmm.”

I glance up at her when
she doesn’t reply and take in her face. Wide eyes. Parted lips.
Flushed cheeks.

“Uh, Liv?”

“Um.” She takes a deep
breath. “Did you say Tyler? A photographer?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I know him
already.”

I tilt my head to one
side. “Well, I suppose that will make everything easier. The whole
maid-of-honor-best-man thing. You guys have to get along.”

“Oh, we do. I can’t say
we’ve talked much, but we get along just fine.”

It clicks. I stare at
her, my jaw dropping, and she flattens her mouth into a thin line.
Slowly, I close the laptop, unable to process anything except this
very unexpected information.

My best friend has
slept with my fiancé’s cousin.

Oh holy crap.

THE END.

Liv and Tyler’s story,
currently untitled, will release later this year.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my
incredible partner, Darryl, for accepting and living with my
special brand of crazy. And for putting up with all my sighing and
constant hammering at my keyboard. And for being told to shut up
numerous times because I was too lost in Aaron and Dayton. Love
you, Mr.

My babies, for
sometimes coming second to the people inside my head. I hope that
one day you’ll understand that this is all for you.

My agent, Dan Mandel,
for loving the idea of this series from the moment I sent it. Thank
you for believing in my ability to write erotica, and for
encouraging me to publish it. And my foreign rights agent,
Stephanie, for all you do. It makes my head spin like whoa.

My critique partners,
Heidi Joy Tretheway and Katie Ernst, and my early readers, Kendall
Ryan, Zoe Pope, and Holly Baker. You all begged me for more
Aaron—and Dayton—and your enthusiasm and ahem, desperation, kept me
writing when it got hard. I love you all tons.

Sofie Hartley—I expect
that leg hump in July for your surprise early copy of this. I can’t
wait to go in, fuck shit up, then strut out with you.

To the bloggers who
have helped spread the word from day one—I’m not even going to name
you all this time because I know I’ll miss someone. But if you’ve
read and reviewed Late Call, or even just read it and loved it,
thank you. This wouldn’t be possible without your epic
buzz-creating skills and excitement.

My editor, Michelle
Kampmeier, and my proofreader, Emma Mack. Thank you, ladies, for
cleaning up my words. They’re now shiny and sparkly.

And for you guys, my
readers. Thank you for loving Aaron and Dayton and fiercely as I
do. I hope this book is everything you were hoping for.

<3

About
Emma Hart

By
day,
New York Times
and
USA
Today
bestselling New Adult author Emma
Hart dons a cape and calls herself Super Mum to two beautiful
little monsters. By night, she drops the cape, pours a glass of
whatever she fancies – usually wine – and writes books.

Emma
is working on Top Secret projects she will share with her followers
and fans at every available opportunity. Naturally, all Top Secret
projects involve a dashingly hot guy who likes to forget to wear a
shirt, a sprinkling (or several) of hold-onto-your-panties hot
scenes, and a whole lotta love.

She
likes to be busy - unless busy involves doing the dishes, but that
seems to be when all the ideas come to life.

Find
Emma online at:

Blog:
http://www.emmahart.org

Facebook: www.facebook.com/EmmaHartBooks

Twitter: @EmmaHartAuthor

Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6451162.Emma_Hart