Page 42 of Roundabout

“I see your wreckage and want to fix my own just so I can be the armor yours is missing.”

He’s upheld every word, every day.

“I love you, Coty.”

“I love you, Angela.” With his palms grazing my bare back, his fingertips tickle the skin along my backbone. Eyes darkening, he whispers, “You look fucking gorgeous.”

“You’re just trying to—”

“Marry you? Damn right I am.”

“Jesus fuck, now I understand why you two aren’t married yet. You can’t get out of each other’s faces long enough to walk down the fucking aisle.”

“There is no aisle,” I remind Beckett with a smug grin.

Coty growls, “Fuck you,” at his friend, the spell now broken.

“See? I’m telling you, murder’s the vibe.”

I have to pull back from Coty to ask, “What?” Murder?

Ignoring me, Marc pulls the “flowers” from my hold and passes them off to Coty. “Take these or they’ll be confetti by the time she reaches you.”

Beckett moves to my other side, then they each take a hand in one of theirs.

“Now you can’t fidget,” Beckett explains.

“Do not!” I shout, willing the sudden tears away. “Do not make me cry right now.”

Marc shoves Coty’s chest, telling him, “Get back over there so we can bring you your wife.”

“It hurts,” Coty says seriously.

Marc nods. “I know it does, man, but we’ll return her to you safe and sound.”

One-handed, Beckett pretends to dust the front of his Keep Calm and Ride It biker shirt, and mutters, “I’m not making that promise. There could be a rattlesnake out here or something.”

“Oh my God!” I cry the same time Marc says, “Shut the fuck up.”

Coty shakes his head, grinning, then turns to finally leave.

“I’m just kidding, Angie.”

I side-eye Beckett. There absolutely are rattlesnakes in this canyon. I’m hoping none in this particular region at this particular time, but it’s always a possibility. The thought of accidentally stepping on one under my dress has already gone through my mind. On repeat. At least I’m wearing my triple-black Adidas Cloudfoams.

He laughs, adding, “I’d totally pee on you if you got bit.”

Marc’s head shakes beside me. “That’s a jellyfish sting, dumbass.” In a pair of aviators, he’s wearing a gray crewneck with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and black jeans. Even though Coty and I dressed up, we didn’t want anyone else to feel like they had to.

I squeeze their hands tight in mine, telling them, “Never change.” Their personalities are the same at thirty-one as they were at twenty-one, and I hope things will always be like this between us—the banter but also the acceptance.

“Neighbor girl’s all grown up,” Marc says, kissing my head.

“Yeah,” Beckett agrees quietly before giving a matching kiss to the other side.

The tears actually fall this time, and I try to stop, just for a brief second, to let it all wash over me. I’m safe. I’m where I belong. I’m home.

CHAPTER 12