And I meant everyone.
It was a ruckus, as always, an eruption of chatter and laughter. Tess sat on Luke’s lap at the table in the nook, laughing at something Lila was saying. Kash sat behind her with that sideways Bennet smile on his face, his eyes on her like she was the most interesting creature on the planet. Laney was perched on the counter next to Jett as he cooked, the two of them a sight for sore eyes.
With our marketing department up and running, Laney had passed off everything she’d been working on with social, staying on part-time as an advisor after getting a big offer from Wasted Words—the bookstore where Jett worked. The twins had moved to the Upper West near Columbia so they’d be closer to work, and we’d seen precious little of them. But they looked revived and fresh, and I figured it was due to putting a little space between them and their mother, who had been on a matchmaker’s streak from hell.
They were her last two to pair off, and she clearly didn’t take the job lightly. I was honestly surprised there weren’t a couple of strangers she’d brought to spring on Jett and Laney, although I hoped she’d learned her lesson after the last ones. Laney had nearly argued hers into the floor when he made a crack about women and PMS. It sounded worse than it had been—I suspected Laney had been looking for a reason to hate him from the minute Mrs. Bennet presented the poor guy like a dead bird.
At the other end of the table sat Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, chattering with my father.
Dad smiled up at me when we entered, and the conversation broke in order to take turns greeting and scolding us for holding up dinner.
I headed over to him, sliding an arm around his shoulders and kissing the top of his head. “What are you three conspiring about over here?”
“Who has the best milkshakes in Manhattan,” he answered with a smile that told me that was a lie.
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“I believe,” Mr. Bennet started, “Rosie has a pool going as to who will give her a grandchild first.”
“Oh? Who’s in the lead?” I asked.
“Well”—Mrs. Bennet perked up, her gossip face sliding into place—“Tess is a planner—she won’t have a baby until some timeline has been met. Lila’s just too busy … I think she’ll wait until she and Kash are settled, what with all the business she’s got. So I’m betting on you two. Didn’t think I’d ever see the day that I bet on Marcus being spontaneous.”
My cheeks warmed as I laughed. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we have plenty to keep us busy for a minute.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, a wily look in her eyes. “But I’m still betting on you.”
“She’s not an incubator, Mom,” Marcus said from my side. “How come Laney and Jett aren’t on your list?”
She laid a pointed look on Laney. “Because somebody keeps insulting all the nice boys I bring home for them.”
Laney rolled her eyes. “Mom, Blane is a ballet dancer who couldn’t stop talking about himself through an entire hour-and-a-half dinner. I can’t believe you thought anyone would go out with him, let alone me.”
“It’s true—that guy was a douchebag, Mom,” Luke added. “I don’t know if I could have made it through a second dinner with him without giving him a black eye.”
But Mrs. Bennet waved a hand. “You’re all too stubborn, that’s all. Don’t you worry, I’ll find someone for you yet,” she said in the general vicinity of her twins.
They shared a look, and Jett changed the subject. “Dinner’s ready. If it’s overcooked, blame Marcus.”
With a laugh, we filed into the dining room, but Marcus pulled me to a stop behind everyone else, ducking me into the butler’s pantry, holding me close.
My heart fluttered from the surprise and the proximity of his smiling lips. “Your mother’s going to walk in here and crack another baby joke.”
“Funny that you think she’s joking.”
I gazed up at him, cocking my head. “What do you think? Will we win the pool? Beat the rest of them to the nursery?”
He pressed me against the cabinets with his long, lean body. “Why? Want to?”
Another flutter, this one lower. “Yes, please.”
But he didn’t laugh, just watched me.
“You’re not kidding,” I said breathlessly.
“Not even a little.” He traced my jaw, thumbed my lip. “I don’t want to wait, Maisie. Not when I’ve waited my whole life for you.”
I sighed into him, and he swallowed the sound with a kiss. Deep in my chest, I felt him there, taking up all the space. Someday, we would make room for one more. Then another, if we were lucky. And it would all be built from love.
His love for me.
My love for him.
And for the rest of my days, I’d have everything I’d ever wished for, everything I wanted.
More than I could have imagined.
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Pride and Papercuts, Chapter 1
Laney
“Find-a-Fabio.”
Cam looked proud of herself when a laugh bubbled out of me.
“Fabio and Seek,” I offered.
“Where’s Fabio just doesn’t have a ring to it. How about Hide and go Fabio?”
When I giggled again, she shrugged.
“I can’t believe we actually got the Fabio to come to Wasted Words. When he gets here and we make people find him, it’s going to be a riot. Let’s make sure we’ve got a good freaking seat for that.” With a shake of her head and a dramatic flip of hair, she tugged on her Fabio wig and adjusted it blindly. “Is it straight?”
“Here,” I said, fixing it. “How’s mine?”
“You look absolutely ridiculous. So, perfect.”
I picked up one of the two giant boxes of wigs and headed toward the front of the bookstore with Cam in my wake.
When I started working at Wasted Words a year ago, I’d never have imagined that the book bar would become one of my favorite places on the planet. I should have known better, and beyond just the fact that it was a bookstore with a bar smack in the middle. My twin brother had been talking it up for years, so when I moved back to New York and Wasted Words needed help with their social marketing, I jumped at the chance.
Pretty sure Cam and I had become best friends within five minutes.
She was a tiny thing with big glasses that somehow managed to look cool, despite their size. I found Cam impossible not to like. Her propensity to make me laugh until I couldn’t breathe helped. The fact that she was technically my boss was maybe the best part of working here.
“Think anyone will refuse to wear one?” I asked, adjusting my grip on the box of wigs.
“It’s Fabio night. No wig, no entry.”
“Even for the ad execs?” I tried to sound enthusiastic. But the invasion of the ad executives who’d been brought in to manage the national expansion of Wasted Words put my job in a precarious position.
They didn’t seem too happy about working with me either.