When I moved to Atlanta, we kept in touch for a while, but I’d let it slide the last couple of years. Dillon was still in Miami, where I’d spent my childhood, but Logan had moved to Boston and was now married with a kid on the way. Our lives had grown in different directions—Kassidy was an executive at a large publishing house in Miami, Dillon was a professor at the University of Miami, and Logan was a high school teacher in Boston. But, a large part of the blame for the lapse in communication laid with me. Guilt ate at me as I thought about how I’d pushed everyone from my life. I just hadn’t been in the mood to return calls or emails. I’d thrown myself into my work, only coming out of it when Weston dragged me away.
“Yeah, I’ve been”—I wasn’t sure how to explain it—“well, I’ll keep in better touch from now on. You and Dillon should come here for a visit.”
We shot the shit for a few minutes, talking about our families and reminiscing a little. Then, she got right down to business.
“What can I do for you, Rhys?”
“I heard you were a big shot publisher these days. Called to congratulate you.”
“Uh huh,” she muttered, her sarcasm laced with humor. “Spit it out, Peanut. What do you want?”
My grin widened. Kassidy didn’t take shit from anyone, least of all a guy she’d known since he was five. “I have a favor to ask.”
“I figured as much, but let me stop you right here. If you need someone to help you bury a body, you called the wrong Bell. Dillon’s the one with the shovel collection.”
I laughed deeply, reveling in the joy I felt at her humor, something that only days ago would have bounced right off of me. “Actually,” I knew just the way to Kassidy Bell’s soft side and I wasn’t above exploiting it—“I met someone.”
She squealed with delight, like a teenage girl. Kassidy was a hopeless romantic. She started to bombard me with questions and I answered a few, avoiding the topic of when we met. Then I steered the conversation back to the favor I needed.
“I want to ask her to marry me.” I held the phone away from my ear in preparation for another scream. When she was done, I continued my explanation. “Macy is very independent, which is sexy as hell, but I want to take care of my girl and watching her work at that seedy place is going to tear through the last shreds of my sanity.”
“I’m happy to help if I can, Peanut, but you seem to have forgotten that I live in Miami.”
“Oh, no,” I replied, realizing that she thought I wanted her to offer Macy a job. “Macy is an aspiring writer.”
“Whoa, Rhys,” she started, suddenly defensive. “No way can I publish a book just because you’re practically my little brother and she’s your girlfriend.”
“Fiancée,” I corrected without thought.
“Fine. Fiancée. It doesn’t change my answer.”
“I would hope you knew me better than that, Kass,” I grunted. “I’m not asking you to publish her book. I was going to ask if you could simply make sure it ends up in front of the right eyes.”
“Oh! Sure! That I can do,” she said brightly.
“Thanks. Oh, and one more thing.”
“You’re pushing your luck, Peanut Buttercup,” she warned. Though her use of my nickname indicated that she wasn’t really irritated.
“I just want to make it clear that she can’t know I was involved. I’ll make sure she submits it to the right place, but if you decide she’s worth taking a chance on, it has to be on her own merits. She’d be pissed as fuck if she knew I greased the wheels.”
Kassidy laughed. “I think I’m going to like this chick. When do I get to meet her?”
My heart warmed at the thought of Macy meeting my family. “You will meet her eventually,” I promised. “And yeah, she’s fucking amazing.”
She told me to shoot her an email once Macy had submitted her manuscript and then we said our goodbyes. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest as I got ready to leave the office.
Macy would be clocking out in fifteen minutes and I was buzzing with energy. I was going to take my girl home and fuck the hell out of her before I made love to her for the rest of the night. With that in mind, I placed an order for takeout on my way to pick her up. We were going to need sustenance.
Macy
Walking through the door of Rhys’s house after a long day at work, my eyes scanned the surroundings which had quickly become familiar over the past week or so. The spacious living room was decorated with brown leather furniture and forest green accents. The chef’s kitchen had gleaming stainless steel appliances, limestone flooring, dark mocha cabinets, and marble countertops. Being in Rhys’s space felt like coming home, a sensation which was new for me since my crappy apartment was nothing more than a crash pad. Our houses were on opposite ends of the spectrum, but it wasn’t the luxuriousness of his furnishings that made it feel like home. It was the man following directly behind me, his hands full of carryout bags from an Italian place I’d never had the chance to try before.