Better Luck Next Time bonus story #2
Finn
After I sold my brewery, I went from being the town hero to the kind of guy who got bread rolls thrown at him (literally). If I learned anything from my fall from grace, it’s that life has a way of humbling us, and no plan goes according to…well, plan. I mean, obviously that’s not the only thing I learned, but I don’t want to bore you by providing a list. Instead, I’ll get to the point, which is this: I have plans for my girlfriend, Adalia, this weekend, big plans, but I didn’t account for other people’s drama.
Adalia and I flew up to New York City from Asheville with a big group of friends and family for the grand opening of her art show. The opening was a huge success, which was no surprise to any of us, but her brother, Lee, got into a huge fight with his girlfriend. They’re both on their way back to Asheville now; or, rather, Blue’s probably already there, and Lee went after her.
We haven’t heard anything from either of them at this point, and now that the opening of Adalia’s art show is behind us, Addy is thoroughly distracted by the whole situation. On the plus side, that means she hasn’t asked too many questions about where we’re going this afternoon. All she knows is that I want to buy her a new dress to celebrate her art opening. She groused a bit about that, because Addy has a seriously hard time accepting presents, but she also seemed slightly pleased by the notion.
“Lee better turn this around,” Addy grumbles. “Otherwise, I’ll pester him until he relents. There’ll be no hot fudge sundae big enough for him to pacify me.”
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I say cheerfully. “It’ll all work out.”
She gives me a weird look, probably because I’d usually have more to say. Here’s the thing: I have this problem with keeping secrets. Personal secrets, specifically. They escape my mouth without bothering to ask for permission first. But I really want Adalia to enjoy the surprise I have planned for her, and it’s pretty goddamn hard to surprise her. To be fair, it’s hard for me to surprise anyone. One time, I watched my father’s assistant wrap the presents she’d selected for my mother, and when my mother wondered out loud what her gifts would be, I blurted out the answer. Things haven’t gotten much better since.
Still, I want this badly enough to try. Which means I’ve settled on speaking as little as possible until we get to our first stop.
“Why are you being weird?” Addy asks, giving my arm a little shove.
“Weird, who’s being weird?” I say.
“Do I really need to answer that?” She cocks her head and looks at me, and I’m struck by what a lucky bastard I am. She’s wearing a head band that’s straining to hold back her burst of bright golden curls, and even though she’s in a puffer jacket—it’s February, and it’s cold—she has the kind of body that makes me always want to touch her. Every bit of her is lovely. It’s a pity she’s the artist, because she should be immortalized in paint. I tried once, actually—I painted her and she painted me—and Addy and I both ended up falling over laughing at what ended up on my canvas. Well, you did give me two eyes and a nose, she said. That’s a start.
To be fair, she was naked, and I was in a hurry.
“You look beautiful,” I say, reaching up to touch one of her curls.
Her lips lift in a way that suggests I pleased her, but she insists, “I’m not letting you change the subject. What’s up with you?”
“Um. I’m worried about the whole Lee and Blue thing,” I lie. “I really like Blue.” That part, at least, is true, and not just because Addy loves her.
She groans. “So do I. So does he. He’s being a dickface.”
“Yeah, but at least he knows it. Knowing you’re being a dickface is an important step. It’s also helpful to have an outspoken woman around to tell you.”
She smiles at me, then tilts her head in a silent question as the car pulls to a stop in front of Regency Relics. The windows are filled with A-line dresses and suit coats and frilly cravats.
Adalia’s favorite movie is Pride and Prejudice, and since Adalia is my favorite person, I’ve taken an interest in it too. We’ve dressed up in Regency-era clothing a couple of times at the Biltmore Estate back home, so it seemed like a natural part of my plan for today. Besides, I do like a good cravat.
Adalia perks up. “You’re buying me that kind of dress? Are we going to wear them around New York? Because I’m not going to lie, it kind of tickles me to think that we’ll be in a bunch of tourists’ photos.”
“We can,” I say. “But only after our second stop.”
Her eyes brighten, her pink lips parting slightly. “Why, Mr. Darcy, are you planning to surprise me?”
God help me, I am. To avoid speaking, for the aforementioned reasons, I lean in and kiss her, savoring the soft press of her lips and the way she instantly leans in to me, humming a little in her throat as if to say I please her.
I break away but lift a hand to her cheek, cupping it as I look into her hazel eyes. “Yes, I am. Want to help me pull it off by asking fewer questions?”
She grins. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
***
It takes Adalia a while to choose a dress, mostly because she likes everything. Finally, she settles on a creamy white dress with a plum-colored sash that brings out the green in her hazel eyes. I’ve already chosen what I’ll be wearing—a white cravat and black waistcoat. We change into our new clothes in the store and return to the car. Not that our driver’s been waiting for us at the curb the whole time—this is New York, after all, and people frequently get into fights over parking—but I texted him while Addy was finalizing her selection.
We get into the back, and I pull a black silk blindfold out of my pocket.
Mischief flashes in Adalia’s eyes. “Kinky.”
“Maybe later,” I say. Then, grinning, I correct myself. “Definitely later. This is to help keep the mystery alive.” I shrug and admit, “And also because you look good in a blindfold.”
The blindfold’s not strictly necessary, to be honest. I’m playing homage to our first visit to the Biltmore Estate, but I don’t say that. I don’t want her thinking too deeply about why I’d want to do that.
“All right, all right,” she says with a snort. “No need to do a hard sell. I’m into it.”
So am I. I slide it into position, watching the way the smooth silk ripples against her creamy skin. Yes. I’ll definitely be pulling this blindfold on again later. I secure it behind her head, then kiss her temple, just above the silk.
“Want to guess what we’re doing?” I ask as I nod for the driver to start moving.
“Nah, there’s always the chance you’ll break and tell me, and I kind of want it to be a surprise.”
I have to laugh at that. It’s a valid concern.
“Last night was pretty fucking great, wasn’t it?” she asks in a smaller voice. “Despite everything that went wrong?”
She’s not just referring to Lee’s problem, which, to be fair, he tried to gloss over last night to avoid ruining the opening. Addy’s asshole father decided to crash the art show, although her brothers, River, and I acted quickly enough that the only thing that got ruined was his suit. (Not because we hit him, unfortunately, but because we basically threw him out on his ass.)
I take her hand and lean into her until her head is nestled in the nook of my shoulder. “I couldn’t be prouder of you. When I first saw you painting, it sparked something inside of me. I knew you were brilliant, but it took knowing you, really knowing you, to realize just how brilliant you are. And last night it was like you pulled back the clouds and let everyone see it.”
Her breath hitches a bit, but then she gives me a little nudge. “So I’m usually covered in clouds? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Everyone needs to be Clark Kent sometimes,” I tease. “If you showed us your full brilliance all the time, we’d be blinded.”
“Oh, you,” she says. “You better kiss me now, and make it count.”
So I do, because that’s not an offer—ahem, command—you turn down from the woman you love.
We’re there sooner than I would like, since kissing Adalia in the back of a town car as it winds its way through NYC seems like a perfectly agreeable way to spend an afternoon.
I lead Addy out of the car, and when we’re in front of the banner in the window of the building in front of us, I slip off her blindfold and tuck it into my pocket.
“What the what?” she asks, her eyes sparkling, her skirts brushing my leg. “How can this exist without me knowing it exists?”
“So I could have the pleasure of bringing you here, milady,” I say in a terrible English accent. I could probably do it slightly better (or so I tell myself), but I know Addy prefers it this way.
She grabs me by the cravat and kisses me, and if my smile is a bit smug, then at least I came by it honestly.
The banner over the door reads Jane Austen Character Cosplay, Join us for high tea!
I hold the door for her, and she nods her head in acknowledgment as she walks inside. I follow behind her, and we both stop at the desk opposite the door.
The red-haired woman sitting behind it looks like she’s probably a frequent customer at Regency Relics, dressed in jade green A-line dress.
“Good day,” she says, in an English accent that puts mine to shame. I give her our names and she supplies us with name tags, which seems to break the whole we’re in Regency England pretense, but who am I to point fingers? The names are written in a scripty, gilded font.
Adalia glances at our nametags—Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth—and quirks her brow. “I thought you’d pick Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy,” she says. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“I felt like trying something different,” I say.
She still looks puzzled, but she puts on her Anne sticker, and I put on my Wentworth one.
“Have you even read Persuasion?” she asks. “Or watched the movie?”
Both, actually. When I have an idea and it excites me, I tend to pour a lot of thought and energy into it. Adalia definitely excites me. She makes me a little crazy, actually, but it’s the kind of crazy where you never want to be sane.
“Yes,” I admit. “I can relate to Captain Wentworth.” I guide her toward the tearoom, our arms linked at the elbow.
“Why, pray tell?” Addy asks, her hair bobbing prettily in my peripheral vision.
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s a manly man, and everyone’s extremely impressed with him.”
She laughs, but as we step into the tea room a gasp escapes her. Maybe it’s because it looks like it was airlifted out of England from a few hundred years ago, complete with red velvet settees, tiny china teacups painted with pink roses, and finely decorated tea cakes that almost certainly look better than they taste. Or maybe it’s because the rest of our friends are here. Other than Lee, of course, who is presumably trying to win his woman back. If he’s smart, that is. My best friend, River, with Adalia’s sister, Georgie. My friend Maisie with Addy’s half-brother, Jack. Then, of course, there’s River’s great-aunt, Dottie Hendrickson, who’s probably wondering what’s in the tea blend. She could almost certainly make it better, to be honest.
The cosplay tea is an actual thing, but I decided to make it our thing today.
I like seeing the evidence of how our lives have knit together. That’s why they needed to be here: they’re part of our story, just like we’re part of theirs, and I hope that our lives will continue to be interwoven long into the future. This is the family I’ve always wanted but never thought I could have.
Our friends wave, River and Maisie give me a two-finger Bro Club salute, and then they sit and watch us, Georgie being mostly subtle while she films us with her iphone.
Once she gets over the initial shock, Adalia turns to me with dancing eyes. “Why don’t they get nametags?”
“Because everyone knows that Dottie considers herself Emma,” I say with a smile.
Dottie didn’t matchmake any of us, really, but she’s the kind of person who gives nudges—and crystals—at exactly the right time, and if not for her, I wonder if Adalia and I would be here today.
Addy looks up at me in a silent question.
“So, remember that one time I proposed to you?” I ask.
“Um, yes, obviously,” she says, her eyes shining with mirth and maybe tears. “You were covered in frozen peas. That’s not the kind of thing a woman forgets.”
“Captain Wentworth had to ask Anne to marry him twice,” I say, getting down on one knee. I retrieve the box from my pocket and flip it open, my gaze on her face. Maybe it’s my suddenly racing heart, but I can’t totally read her expression.
She has to say yes. Please God let her say yes.
I’m mostly certain she will, but mostly certain isn’t the same as all the way certain, especially when a man’s future is on the line. Because Adalia is my future. I know this as surely as I know the 2005 Pride & Prejudice will always be under the “Recently Watched” tabbed in our Netflix cue.
“I love you, Adalia Buchanan. ‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, and half hope…’” I swallow, trying to dislodge my heart from the vicinity of my throat, then add, “I borrowed the last two lines from Austen, but what can I say? That woman knew how to get a message across.”
“You know I love Austen,” Adalia says, then makes a wild gesture to the room around us. “Obviously.”
“Will you marry me, Addy?” I ask. Then, feeling the eyes of all of our friends and her relatives on us, I realize my gesture might be misconstrued.
Shit. What if she thinks I’m manipulating her? Trying to force her to say yes?
I wave toward them. “Is this too much? Don’t feel pressured by their presence. You can definitely embarrass me in front of them. We’re all used to that. I didn’t ask them to be here because I thought you’d be more likely to say yes in front of an audience. I just…I wanted them to be here, because I love your family…our family.”
A tear tracks down her cheek, and panic lights inside of me. I didn’t wait long enough. I shouldn’t have asked everyone else to come. I should have…
Before I can say anything, Adalia pulls me up, the ring clasped in our joined hands. “Yes, it’s absolutely too much. Come here, you big lug,” she says. “I love you, you know.” She kisses me, her mouth soft yet hungry, and I feel tears on her cheeks.
I pull back slightly and lift a hand to wipe away her tears. “To clarify,” I say, “was that a yes? I’m really hoping it was a yes.”
“It was a hell yes,” she says, grinning, and I swoop her into the air and twirl her around, because my heart is flying and it’s insisting I act on the impulse.
“Thank God,” Jack says. “That was about to get awkward.”
Maisie laughs but gives him a little shove.
When we stop spinning, Georgie is still holding the camera, being more open about her filmography efforts now, and River has his arm around her because she’s a bit teary-eyed. He gives me a slight nod.
Dottie, of course, is pouring the tea for all of us.
“Now, now, dears,” she says, grinning. “This was always going to happen. It was in the cards.”
She means this literally. Her friend, Lola, did tarot readings for both Adalia and me, and we had exactly the same spread of cards, something that’s extremely rare.
“What Dottie said,” I say, lifting Adalia’s hand and kissing it. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Thank God,” she says. “There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with.” Then she turns to Dottie and grins mischievously. “Are Lee and Blue also going to be stuck together?”
I laugh. “You know, Lee basically hijacked our engagement. I’m never going to let him live this down,” I say. “So long as they end up together. It would be kind of a dick move for me to remind him of it if they don’t.”
“Oh, they will,” Dottie says as if it’s a forgone conclusion. “Those two belong together, make no mistake.”
Her gaze shifts to Maisie and Jack, and she gives a pleased smile. “Yes, all is as it should be.”
“Almost,” I say, then I take the ring out of the box and hand it to Adalia.
“You know,” she teases, “it’s possible I only said yes because of the ruby.” It’s a family ring—a ruby bracketed by two diamonds, and she’s seen it before. Last time, she had no trouble saying no. Then again, we’d only known each other, really known each other, for a few weeks back then.
“Whatever it takes,” I tease back.
She slides the ring on, and it’s like something inside of me clicks into place.
This is how it’s supposed to be.
She takes my hand, and we join our family. We have tea and cakes, and we laugh, and we predict what’s happening with Lee and Blue. And I know, without a doubt, that the future holds something wonderful. Because we’re together, forever.
Maybe I’m luckier than I deserve, but hell, I’ll take it.