She tuts, like that’s the silliest notion. “Because then we’d be twins, sweetheart.”
“Ah, well. That explains everything.”
“Also,” she says, as we exit the court after my epic pummeling, “I’m ready for my I told you so.”
“Do you want me to serve it up with quinoa?”
“Excellent idea. Let’s get a quinoa bowl and you can tell me all about what the vibe turned into.”
We head to a café and I tell her the rest of the story. “And real love is awesome,” I add, when I finish the tale. “Also, you were right about Tristan and me having a thing. Does that make you happy?”
“No. What makes me happy is that you chose wisely. And I don’t simply mean the man. You chose boldness. That was brave. That was worth it, wasn’t it?”
I nod, agreeing with my whole heart. “When it comes to love, being bold is so much better than being careful,” I say, so glad I went for it with the man I adore.
“Keep being bold. Love is worth it.”
“And on that front, once again, you’re right.”
As we dine on quinoa, I consider myself lucky to have so many amazing women in my life—women who’ve helped me reach for and realize so many dreams.
From Mimi, to my mom, to my best friends, to the women I encounter in my job, they’ve all played a part in where I am today.
And I’m exactly where I want to be.
33
Tristan
She doesn’t stow away a small family under her dress.
That’s good because her dress comes to just above her knees.
It’s ruby red, and she looks like a jewel. The music shifts from some pop star to some other pop star, and I wrap an arm around her waist as we man the punch table.
“Are you wearing red lace under that?” I whisper, my voice already husky as I picture unzipping this dress later.
“Maybe,” she says with a flirty, dirty look. “Or maybe I’m wearing green. To match the shirt I bought you.” She tap-dances her fingers down the forest-green Henley. “Have I mentioned how good you look in this shirt?”
“Good enough to get me naked later so you can have your way with me?” I ask in a growl.
“That’s exactly my plan.”
“You should conduct an experiment to see how quickly you can take it off me. I’ll do the same when it comes to stripping off your dress to see if you’re wearing green.” Around us, the seniors at Barrett’s school dance, laugh, and snap pictures. “But I doubt it. You usually match your undies to your clothes.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Very observant. Also, green is not my color when it comes to lingerie.”
“Why not?”
“It makes me look like a leprechaun,” she says, flicking her red hair.
I run a hand through those strands, tugging her close. “On you, Peyton, the leprechaun look is sexy.”
She rolls her eyes as someone clears his throat.
We yank apart to find that someone is my brother.
“Don’t you know the chaperones aren’t supposed to make out?” he chides us.
He’s not alone. The guy next to him with olive skin and green eyes shakes his head in amusement. “Adults today. You can’t leave them alone, Bear.”
Bear. Eli already has a nickname for my brother.
“Seriously. What does it take to get some punch around here?” Barrett asks.
“All you have to do is ask nicely. And not slurp,” I say.
Peyton sticks a hand in the air and waves. “Hello? Introductions, gentlemen.”
As I ladle some punch, I second her. “Yes, Barrett. Make the intros.”
After I pour the beverages, we all shake hands and say hello, and then Barrett and Eli head back to their crew, joining Rachel and the rest of them.
I turn to Peyton. “I suppose I should apologize for constantly putting my hands on you, but I can’t seem to find it in me.”
“I would never accept such an apology. Because on me is my favorite place for your hands.” She smiles as the music shifts once again. The tune is instantly familiar.
She grins like she has a secret. Our secret. “I asked them to play this. I’ve always wanted to kiss you again to this song.”
Cyndi Lauper’s love song fills the gymnasium, and I take Peyton’s hand and bring her to the dance floor.
And I give her what she wants.
It’s what I want too.
And this time is our time.
For all time.
34
Peyton
A few months later
The blog worked for my brother. He sent an ultrasound picture to the family chat the other day. A tiny little peanut that’s growing in Holly.
Jay: Thought you might like this first shot of the newest Valencia.
Mom: The lingerie worked!
Jay: You told mom we bought lingerie from your shop?
Peyton: Obviously. Also, congratulations!!!!! Was it the leopard print that did the trick?
Jay: Yes, do you want us to name the baby Leopard Print Valencia?
Mom: That is a perfect name. Also, I’m so happy for you!
Peyton: And I hope you have a girl so I can buy her her first bra someday.
Jay: Can we please not talk about bras yet?
Peyton: Sure. But mark my words, if you have a girl, I will definitely be taking her underthings shopping. Count on it.
The blog worked for business too.
It’s still working.
Case in point—a determined woman in a trenchcoat who marches into my shop at the end of the day and declares in a posh tone, “I’m looking for a teddy that will make me want to rip off my lover’s shirt.”
“Are we talking all the buttons flying everywhere?”
She sweeps her arm out wide. “Ping, ping, ping. Literally everywhere.”
“Let me show you a few items that I bet you’ll love,” I say, and guide the woman to our new collection of teddies.
“Yes. Gorgeous,” she declares as she flicks through the display. “Oh yes. Delicious.” She pauses, eyes lighting up. “Oh, my yes. Must have that. I better go try this on right now.”
“Don’t forget to try the new pink one too. You’ll look pretty in pink,” Marley says, chiming in.
“Good idea. Plus, it’ll make me look innocent,” the woman says with a wink.
“God bless pink for that and other reasons. I’ll show you to the dressing rooms,” Marley says.
A few minutes later, the woman emerges, all the lacy teddies draped on her arm. “I’ll take them all. Including this pink one. I’ll have something to wear for the shirt ripping, the panty ripping, the staircase routine, and then for whatever else I decide to add to the naughty mix.”
I beam. “I like the way you think.”