Keeping London (The Flawed Heart Series Book 2) (10 page)

I know, more than anyone, that just because I want something to work doesn’t mean that it will. I can want a life with London more than anything, but I’m far from guaranteed it. I just keep waiting for the ball to drop—and there will be a ball. In my life, there’s always a falling ball. I just hope I can catch it this time around.

I grab my bag before exiting my room. I’m met in the hall by Cooper.

“Ready, man?” he asks.

“Yep.”

We make our way out to my truck, and I drive toward the base. “So, tonight’s the night, right?”

“Sure is.”

“Your plans all set?” I ask.

“Yeah. It’s not going to go down in the record books as the most romantic proposal of all time, but we’re about to leave. I have limited time and options at this point, and I just want to ask her before I go.”

“What’s the plan again?”

“Well, when she comes home from work tonight, I’m going to have hundreds of candles and rose petals all over, lining a path to the living room, where I will be waiting to ask her. I’m also going to make her a romantic dinner—lobster Alfredo, her favorite. So, don’t forget to be gone tonight.” Cooper chuckles.

“No worries. I’ll be at London’s. Maggie’s going to eat that shit up, dude. She’s going to love it.”

“I hope so.”

“She will. I guarantee she’ll be a blubbering mess. But, seriously, that girl would marry you if you put a ring in a Big Mac container and handed it to her. She doesn’t care.”

“Uh, a Big Mac? Why didn’t I think of that?” Cooper asks sarcastically.

“Sorry, you’ll have to go with your plan. I called the Big Mac box.”

“Wow, never heard you even joke about getting married someday,” Cooper says seriously.

I just shrug as a response.

I hear the warmth in Cooper’s voice as he says, “I’m happy for you, man. London’s great.”

“Yeah, she is,” I agree.

“Hey, baby.” I find London sitting in her room, typing away on her laptop, obviously deep into one of her articles.

She looks up to me, and her eyes widen in surprise. “Hey! You got out early.”

She stands from her desk chair as I reach her, and I pull her into a hug.

“What are you writing about?” I question, holding her in my arms.

“Well, actually, it’s a great story. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about that three-legged dog named Scooter and how he showed up missing from that animal rescue farm down in Monroe?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” London says happily, “he was found!”

“Really?”

“Yes, he must have wandered off or something. They found him in the woods about a mile away from the farm. He had fallen in a hole and couldn’t climb out. A little three-year-old boy was out on a walk with his grandma and actually heard him whimpering. They knew about the three-legged pup that’d been missing, so they drove him to the farm. But they loved the little pup so much that they’re going to adopt him. Isn’t that so sweet?”

“That is,” I agree.

“Yeah, a photographer from work went out to the farm and snapped some pics of the little boy, his family, and the puppy. So, now, I just have to write the story to go along with the photos. I love writing these feel-good pieces.”

“That’s great, babe. I can’t wait to read it.” I smile down at my hot little journalist. Changing the subject, I ask, “How was Paige’s birthday?”

“Oh, it was great. Dancing, drinks, all that jazz. I think she had fun.” She places her palms on my face and pulls me into a kiss.

Her lips, as always, are perfect. Plump, sweet, and so kissable. I could get lost in her kisses.

I reluctantly pull away. “How are you feeling? You hungover?”

London scoffs, “Uh, no.” She jovially pushes my chest away and reaches down to save whatever she was working on before shutting her laptop down. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. You went out drinking for Paige’s birthday. I just figured it had gotten a little crazy.” I shrug.

“Well, for your information, I do have some self-control.” She pouts out her lips and narrows her eyes. “Plus, I didn’t want to feel tired today. I don’t want to waste any of these last few days with you by feeling icky, you know?”

“That’s good because I have a surprise for you.” My lips turn up in a smile.

“Oh, no. That look is never followed by anything good,” she teases.

“Would you stop acting like everything we do is torture?” I chuckle. “You always protest, but then you end up having a great time. You know, I think you are addicted to complaining.”

“I am not! I’m just not as outdoorsy as you.” She turns her face, her gaze finding the window. “Plus, it’s so cold outside,” she says with a sigh. “You know I hate being cold.”

“Well, suck it up, buttercup.”

“All right.” Her tone’s resigned. “What should I wear for this surprise?”

“Something warm and comfortable, maybe stretchy.”

“Stretchy? What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Just get ready.” I grin, playfully shooing her away.

“Okay, okay. I have about five minutes of work to do on this article before I can send it in, and then I’m on it.”

“An ice rink?” London asks as we pull into the Ann Arbor rink.

“Yeah. Since I’m going to be gone before the lakes freeze, I thought it would be fun to go ice-skating here.”

“Hmm…interesting.”

“Now, before you go complaining, just give it a chance.”

We exit my truck and head toward the rink.

“It’s fun, I promise. You’ll get the hang of it relatively soon, and I’ll hold your hand until you do, okay?”

“All right, I guess I can try,” London says, not sounding too convinced.

“Thank you, babe. That’s all I ask.”

Once inside, we rent some skates and put them on.

“You know, they have these little walker-type things for kids just learning how to skate, but I don’t think they have any tall enough for you,” I say with a smirk.

“Ha-ha,” she says, not sounding amused. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“There you go. You’ll do great.”

I hold London’s hand as we step onto the ice. It’s currently open skate, the rink is open for the public, but only two other people are on the ice along with us.

“So, I just move my feet?” she asks hesitantly.

“Yeah. You just kinda kick them back to propel you forward. Have you ever roller-skated? It’s similar.”

She lets go of my hand. “I think I’ll try it on my own.”

“You sure you don’t want me to hold on to you for the first couple of laps? Falling on the hard ice hurts.”

“I think I can do it,” she says, releasing my hand.

I really wish she would let me help her. If she falls and gets a huge bruise, that’ll be the end of ice-skating for us. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.

“Okay.”

She takes off on the ice, speeding around the oval rink. She skates with confidence and stability. I shake my head and chuckle. She can totally skate. I watch in shock as she skates backward, her arms out to the sides. She propels herself with her outer leg and then jumps, completing a midair spin, before landing on her feet.

What the…

Now, she’s gliding across the ice on one foot, and her right foot is extended behind her as she leans forward, her arms back against her sides. She continues to skate around the ice, and all I can do is watch, my mouth agape, as she spins, twirls, and jumps. Her skills aren’t equal to those of a professional skater, but they’re way more than I can do, and it’s a hell of surprise from what I assumed she would be able to do.

She slows until she’s in the middle of the rink. Raising her arms above her head and crossing her feet, she ends in this fast spin that makes me dizzy as I watch. When she finishes spinning, she puts her arms out and bows in a curtsy.

She shoots me a knowing smirk, and I lose it, bending at the waist in laughter.

What did I just witness?

She skates over to me, a triumphant smile gracing her face. Her eyes shine with happiness.

She tilts her head to the side. “Did I do okay?” Her voice comes out hesitant, but I know it’s the opposite of the way she’s feeling.

I calm my laughter before saying, “What the hell was that?”

“Just ice-skating.” She shrugs.

“Holy hell, London. You were doing jumps and spins and shit. Seriously…what did I miss?” I chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Oh, maybe I forgot to mention that I can skate?”

“Yeah, maybe you did. Though you can more than skate.”

She claps her hands in front of her and lets out a giggle. “That was fun! The look on your face was priceless!”

“I bet it was.” I grin. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been more surprised in my life. So, really…what’s the story?”

“Well, when I was little, I watched the Nagano Olympics with my mom, and let’s just say that she really wanted me to be the next Tara Lipinski.”

“Who’s that?”

“She was an awesome figure skater that represented the United States.”

“So, you took classes?”

“Yeah, I took lessons from about five years old until I was almost ten. I didn’t have the drive to work hard enough to compete though. Plus, we moved all the time, and I always had to start fresh with a new coach. Right before my tenth birthday, I told my mom that I didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“Did you compete at all?”

“Like local stuff, nothing big.”

“Wow. How did I not know this about you? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

London shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess it just never came up. It wasn’t a huge part of my life.”

“It was five years of your life, London,” I quip.

“I guess, but it was just skating to me. It was my mom’s dream, but it wasn’t mine.”

“Well, regardless, it’s pretty badass. I could never do that. And, now that I know you’re comfortable on the ice, we’re definitely going to have some ice hockey games in our future.”

“Oh, crap. I should have just pretended to suck.” She sighs.

“Would you stop?” I laugh. “Come on.” I reach my hand out to hers. “Do you think you could skate on my level for a bit?”

She entwines her fingers in mine. “I suppose.” She winks.

“What else don’t I know about you?” I ask as we glide around the ice.

“I think that’s all.”

“I doubt it.” I grin. “I think there’s a lot that I still don’t know about you, London, and I can’t wait to discover it all.”

She squeezes my hand in hers and turns her head to shoot me one of her stunning smiles. In this moment, I feel like there’s nothing that could tear us apart. This love I have for her is so strong, and the way in which I adore her is so real that I’m pretty sure I would do just about anything to keep her forever.

London

“I can fall apart when he’s gone. But, right now, I just want to love him.”

—London Wright

Fake green vines border the window, circling around it like an epic Pinterest fail. The bright sunlight streaming in accents the years of dust coating the leaves. Even from where we sit a few tables away the layer of gray is evident. I’ve never understood the point of plastic foliage. It surely doesn’t make this place seem any more Italian, and apparently, it’s difficult to keep clean. I briefly close my eyes and focus my attention back to my tablemates before I start to fixate over the hideous wallpaper that’s covered in bright purple grapes. Senor Abelli is lucky that he’s one hell of chef, or he’d be out of business with such atrocious decor.