AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why?” I choke out, voice wrapped in emotion. I turn the Faberge egg in my hand, the diamonds glistening in the glow of the tree lights.
This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Poppy brushes her soft hand over my cheekbone, following it with a small kiss.
“Because, like an old teacher once said to me, even the most broken things can be beautiful. They just need a little love.”
Powered by a sudden surge of love of my own, I sweep her into my arms and crush my lips against hers. I wrap my hand in her hair, drawing her closer, until there’s not even a millimeter of air between our bodies. “I love you, Poppy Valentina.”
“And I love you, Lorcan Quinn.”
Epilogue
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
LORCAN
“My name is Lorcan Quinn and I’m an alcoholic.”
The sea of people in the church hall is unfamiliar to me. This isn’t my usual weekly AA group, but the faces are friendly and welcoming as they all murmur a chorus of greetings.
Poppy had two conditions when she agreed to stay with me. The first was easy. I’d send Orna to school to study whatever she wanted.
The second was a lot harder to stick to. I’d get sober.
But like I said, I’d move mountains for my China Doll.
Forty minutes later, I’m walking down the steps of the church to the Bentley, early morning sun beating down the collar of my shirt.
It feels like I’ve driven down this road leading up to Stanford University a million times since last January, but in reality, it’s been only every other weekend. I go from the jet to the Bentley to her dorm room—the one she insisted on keeping with Nellie despite me demanding that I buy her a house with full security detail. I’ve learned that being in love is all about compromise. Wecompromisedby her having two security guards that keep a ten-foot distance at all times. I wanted her to come home to the estate every weekend—instead, wecompromisedby alternating between me coming here, entwining our bodies in her tiny single bed with her best friend feet away, and her coming home, where we spent those precious twenty-four-hours sprawled out in my California King.
Today is different from my other visits. In fact, it’ll be my last.
I follow the signs to the Stanford Stadium and pull up into the parking lot. Sliding on my Cartier aviators, I stride out into the sun and follow the crowds through the entrance gates, and take my seat, front row center, on the bleachers. Yeah, I would have broken bones and snapped a few fucking necks to get this spot.
All for the perfect view of my China Doll’s graduation.
I’m impatient, strumming my foot against the grass, waiting for the graduates to file in and fill the row of chairs in front of us. When they do, I rise to my feet and crane my neck to find her. It’d be impossible not to spot Poppy amongst the sea of identical black gowns and square caps. We lock eyes and my heart beats three times faster as she blows me a kiss.
Yeah, Poppy only has to breathe to have that effect on me.
I stick my fingers in my mouth and whistle the loudest when the Dean calls her name. I cheer and clap as she walks across the stage and gives the crowd an awkward wave, scroll in hand. As the caps rain down onto the pitch, I fight my way through the crowd towards her, sweep her up into my arms and crush my lips against hers.
“I could hear you even if you were still in Boston,” she laughs, melting against my chest.
“Good. I want the whole world to know that my girlfriend is a Stanford Business School graduate,” I say, swinging her around like she weighs nothing. “And that I’m the luckiest man alive.”
She laughs and wraps her arms around my neck.
“You two make me sick. Where can I get me one of you?”
I look up from Poppy just long enough to see Nellie popping her gum and rolling her eyes. Poppy’s best friend is a wild child with a smart-ass mouth. I wasn’t a fan at first, but her quick wit and sarcastic retorts have grown on me over the last eighteen months, and now, we have quite the fiery relationship.
“Congratulations, Nellie,” I say, bringing her in for a one-armed hug. “Although it’s not a requirement for hookers to have degrees, let alone from Stanford.”
She laughs and slaps me with her graduation cap. “Yeah, fuck off, Lorc. Hey look—” She nods to a seat halfway down the third row. It hasn’t been touched, and there’s a place card still sitting perfectly neat against the backrest. “Looks like old Sammy-boy got cold feet. Must have known you were coming.”
“Good,” I grunt, turning my attention back to my girl. In all honesty, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about Poppy’s ex-boyfriend now. We’ve come so far and no past relationship would ever match what we have. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kick his ass—again—behind the bleachers if I saw him here today. I twist my hand into Poppy’s and bring it to my mouth to kiss the back of it. “I’m taking you to dinner.” Then, I turn to Nellie. “Would you like to join us?”
