Page 129 of Big Dick Energy

“I'll fly back with you to Tampa for the meet-and-greet, and then we’ll go to Ireland together.” He said it easily. “No more separate schedules. No more watching you leave in one direction while I go in another.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “We go together from now on. That's the only timeline I'm interested in.”

He kissed me, and I melted into him.

Behind us, Marcus cleared his throat.

We ignored him.

He cleared it again, louder.

“In approximately forty-five seconds,” he said, his voice thick with what was absolutely not emotion, “the curtain goes up and my collection, which I spent fourteen months and the entirety of my sanity building, needs its designer standing in the correct position. So if the two of you could wrap up the romantic reunion, that would be…” He stopped.

I looked at him.

Marcus was pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his jaw working.

“Marcus,” I said. “Are you crying?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Your eyes are…”

“It's the hairspray. There's an obscene amount of hairspray in the air, and it's affecting my tear ducts.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders. “It's time.”

Dallas squeezed my hand, pressing a final kiss to my temple. “Go,” he murmured. “I'll find my seat.”

He stepped back, and I watched him go, navigating through the chaos backstage.

I turned to Marcus. “Well,” I said.

“Well,” he agreed, his voice still rough around the edges.

The music reached its peak.

The announcer's voice filled the hall: “Mesdames et messieurs, welcome to the most anticipated debut of the season…”

Marcus met my eyes. “Go put on a hell of a show,” he said.

I went.

CHAPTER 39

THE WEDDING SHE DESERVED

DALLAS

5 months later…

I stood at the front door of Brooke and Davina’s Podcast office.

I knocked.

“If you're a delivery guy, leave it by the door!” Brooke's voice carried through the wood. “If you're selling something, I have a dog, and I'm not afraid to use him!”

“You don't have a dog,” I called back.

A pause. Then footsteps, quick and curious, before the door swung open.

Brooke stood in the doorway wearing an oversized sweater, holding a mug. “Dallas?” Her eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing here? Davina's not…”