Page 44 of Shopping for a CEO's Fiancee
“Yes. Oh, God, Andrew, yes! Of course. I love you so much. And it took you long enough.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t believe you. Couldn’t. Not that I didn’t trust you, but I couldn’t believe you felt the same stone-cold certainty inside that I felt.”
I am stunned. “You felt it, too? All this time? Then what was with all the ‘ridiculous’ comments?”
“I was terrified. I figured you didn’t feel this. I had to cover up my own feelings.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“We really are a pair, aren’t we?” she says with a tiny sound of joy.
“We are now.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight app.
“What are you doing?”
I show her the ring. The inscription.
“‘There’s a pair of us,’” she reads slowly. I tuck the phone in my back pocket, find her left hand, and slowly slip the ring on her finger.
It feels exactly like the moment I slide into her when we’re making love.
Magnified by infinity.
“I never have to wonder again,” she whispers, her tone filled with the same marvel that overflows from my blood.
“Me neither.”
“I knew, you know,” she says into the darkness. “I knew the day you kissed me in your office.”
“Me, too.”
“We’re nobody. There’s a pair of us,” she gasps.
“Shhhh,” I say, “Don’t tell.” And then we silence each other with a kiss that seals the deal. Forever. It’s done. I asked, she answered, and the search is over. It’s been over for two years.
I just didn’t know it until I almost accidentally married her in Vegas.
This time is no accident.
Tap tap tap.
“Andrew? Amanda?” It’s Consuela. “I know the rooftop is a bit small for a large party like this, but Andrew has already tested my patience with his cilantro ban. I refuse to serve you in a garden closet as well. I have standards.”
I grab the doorknob and slowly crack the door open to find an audience of faces we know and love surrounding us.
And Declan’s there, too.
Behind the crowd, the white string of holiday lights provides a warm glow against the panoramic view of the city by the port, the moon’s glow infused with a happiness I don’t remember noticing before.
“Where’s the ring?” someone shouts, and Amanda holds up her left hand, diamond facing out. My eyes catch the glitter of light on metal.
Two months ago, I saw sunshine dancing on a different ring on her hand in bed in a hotel room in Las Vegas.
I like Boston moonlight on this ring even more.
Chapter Twenty-One
The engagement party is over. Everyone enjoyed a night of food and wine, and at some point, Consuela hired a piano player to come and we even danced, Dad twirling Pam, Amanda awkward in my arms. “I’ve never actually dance danced with a guy!” she protested, as the piano player pounded out some old dance hall tunes. All the dance lessons Mom forced me to attend came to fruition, Amanda’s body light and fine in my arms, even as she stepped on my feet. Shannon giggled as Declan led her through their own clumsy steps, while Josh turned Terry’s offer down with a blush and a stammer that made Terry’s sonic boom laugh appear.
And then Terry hogged our women, proving just who really is the best dancer out of all the McCormick brothers.
Dad showed him up, though.
Yes, we’re a competitive bunch, but I’m the winner tonight.
The true winner.
My fiancée and I are home now, exhausted and exhilarated. My place. I have to stop calling it that. Now it is our place.
Amanda’s work outfit hangs in the closet. Her toothbrush is on the counter in my bathroom, along with hair-styling crap and a bunch of creams that smell good but that she doesn’t need. She’s beautiful and perfect right out of the shower, no artifice, no adaptation.
Just as she is.
Naked and real.
Like right now.
Amanda and I are in that space that you learn exists only when it finds you. No amount of searching helps you to locate it. This space appears at the intersection of awareness and volition, of love and permission.
Where the wiser mind waits patiently, waiting for you to visit.
We stand at the edge of the bed, the slider door open, the ocean air tickling our bodies. The same air that welcomed Amanda’s yes at Consuela’s rooftop restaurant just hours ago is joining us in this deeper yes here in my bedroom.
Our bedroom.
Her hair falls in straight lines, ending with a slight curl at her shoulder, framing a face with eyes that look at me from galaxies afar. I stare openly, my own eyes eager to take her in, watching my hand as it cups her jaw, feeling the enormity that comes from knowing my skin touches hers, and that we are bonded forever.
Such a revelation seems both impossible and inevitable, a paradox I only reconcile when she kisses me, standing on tiptoe, the press of nude flesh against nude flesh a startling reminder that this is really in the moment. It unfolds before me like an hourglass clock, each grain a kiss, a sigh, a breath.
Moonlight shines on her ring. Soon I will wear one, too. My thumb finds the soft spot at the base of my left ring finger and worries it. Not much longer, I tell myself.
Soon.
“You proposed,” she whispers, her smile a universe of its own. “We’re getting married.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be your wife.”
“Yes.”
“Amanda McCormick,” she says, as if trying on the name like a dress in a store.
I relax. “Sounds perfect.” My body moves closer to hers, seeking the softness, but without urgency.
“You want kids.”
“Yes. 6.5,” I joke as I just watch her.
“Split the difference between four and nine?”
I shrug.
“Maybe we should start practicing now.”
“You told me maybe isn’t part of my vocabulary.” I move her back against the bed so she drops, sitting on the edge, and we love in long, languid shifts until we’re lying parallel to each other. Her breasts drop to the bed cover, gravity pulling them the way Amanda pulls me to her, making me change shape. We’re open and on display for each other, hiding nothing, baring all.
We are real.
“When you touch me,” she says in a low, strong voice, “all the pieces of me that hum throughout the day go silent. All the chatter in my mind halts. You ground me, Andrew. You fix me.”
“Fine praise coming from a true fixer.”
“I’m not broken, though.” Her palms start at my wrists and slide up my forearms, caressing the outer edge of my arms, coming up my shoulders and making goosebumps ripple across me like fire and ice in one stroke. “You fix me in ways that enhance.”
“Good.”
“You potentiate.”
“And you exponentiate.”
She laughs. “This isn’t a contest.”
“I’m not joking. And I’m not competing.” I trace the outer edge of the circle of her nipple on the breast that falls against the other. Her skin tightens, and so do I.
“We’re greater than each other when we’re together,” she says before she kisses me.
She is every fantasy in front of me, a fusion of hot flesh and intelligence and maternal promise and a life’s journey I don’t have the script for but want to live anyhow.
Amanda is mine.
And she wants me right back.
Her ring shines as she reaches up and slides her hand against the back of my neck.
“Then competing is foolish. We need to collaborate.” I kiss her shoulder.
“Work together,” she gasps as I move down, taking that same nipple in my mouth. The vibration of that noise she makes in the back of her throat drives me crazy.
“Find a rhythm,” I growl, mouth still on her, talking around the pink delight.
“Oh, yes,” she sighs, fingers threading in my hair. “Most definitely that.”
I revel in the perverse pleasure of knowing this body that moves beneath me, that responds to my touch and tease, is the only body I’ll know intimately until my dying day. Perverse because I should be horrified, mortified and sad to reduce my pool of female flesh down to a single woman.
And yet it’s the depth of the water that makes the swim so divine.
She comes with a cry of my name like she’s drowning and only I can save her, yet I’m the one who’s sent her into this helpless state, floating and gasping, and as I come up for air she grabs me with such fiery need our mouths crash into each other, her strength so arousing we become damn near violent, the kiss desperate and drawing. Amanda’s body changes after climax, turning warmer and looser, more expansive and distilled into a pink heat that covers her like a magnetic force field drawing me through, captured and captivated.
I’m drawn to it, invited to come into a world where no one else gains entry. A world that only exists when we’re this close.
Her hand runs from my neck down over my pecs, the touch lightening at my abs, fingers tickling the thick hair trail that leads to an even thicker destination. As her hand traces lines on a map that lives only in her mind, I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, tasting and smelling her.
The cool metal on her ring finger warms from my body heat. This ring is permanent. I’ll pair it with a wedding band, one that matches a thicker one on my own left hand, and we’ll be bonded forever.
