Page 107 of Out of the Shadow

The host flips his card. “So tell me, Angie, how has your life changed since the show has aired?”

“Oh, wow! Where to start?” She pulls on the ends of her hair. “The agency has exploded, that’s for sure. We’ve added four new agents to help handle all of the new business.” She looks directly into the camera. “Thanks for that, everyone. Oh, and people line up around the corner to come into the office and look at the furniture.”

Truth is, I’ve come around to the way she and Juliana decorated the place. It’s unique—like her.

Angie winks at me. “And King.”

I squeeze her hand. “We try to convert them into clients,” I chime in to the delight of the people at the taping.

The host leans forward in his chair and motions for my fiancée to join him. In a stage whisper that we all can hear, he asks, “How’d he ask you?”

Angie sits back, smiling. She rubs her fingers over the ring, then traces her tattoo. My name now interweaves with Dante’s, a physical representation of the fact that we’re both in her heart. “We had just gotten home from dinner at my family’s. He brought out a notepad, and we started creating a Bucket List. He added this amazing item, and while I was absorbing it, he got down on one knee.” She pauses. “It was very romantic.”

The host looks out to the audience, grinning with his thousand-dollar smile. “Do you think we should film their wedding on the next season ofBattle of the Real Estate Matchmakers?” Applause rumbles through my body.

“Won’t be much of a battle, though.” I shake my head.

Angie places her hand on my forearm. “I don’t know, honey. We haven’t started working on our vows.”

Everyone laughs. Kaitlyn calls “Cut!”

Angie strokes my forearm while Milo comes up and disconnects our microphones. We went out to dinner with him, Blaine, Kaitlyn and the rest of the crew out here in LA before taping this “Behind the Scenes” episode—we hadn’t realized how much we’d missed everyone. Once we’re freed from our wires, we both stand and shake hands with the host.

Blaine comes over to us. He has the smile of a man who unwittingly hooked up two people who are wildly happy together. “Great job, guys. Everyone ate up what you gave them.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

“Let’s Do It!has scheduled taping for the next season for four months from now.”

“Perfect,” Angie says. “We should be settled into our new home by then, and taping will be wrapped well before our wedding.”

He focuses on Angie, then on me. “We really would like to incorporate your wedding into the season.”

Without hesitating, I reply, “No. That’s personal to us. Let’s keep the show about real estate, okay? I’d rather have you there as a guest.”

Blaine smiles, a bit sheepishly. “Told them that’s what you’d say. I’ll handle the studio, don’t you worry. I’m looking forward to the next season. And meeting your new agents. Who knows? Maybe another wedding could be in the offing.”

Angie snorts. “I’m not so sure about that. We have some clashing personalities on board.”

I lean down to her ear. “So were we, way back when.” I bite her ear to punctuate my statement.

We spend the next hour meeting everyone in the audience, accepting congratulations, and getting tons of stories about when people first suspected Angie and I had fallen in love. Some people said they knew right from our first meeting, while others said they were shocked to find out we were a real-life couple. It’s an enjoyable experience, if exhausting, and at the end we head to my LA condo.

Tossing my keys onto the kitchen island, I look around at the condo Dad bought for me all those years ago. Most of the personal items have already been put into boxes to be shipped out to Aroostook. Angie and I had a long conversation about this property, and we decided renting it out was the best course of action. The extra rental income will be a nice boon.

“LA is gorgeous.” She releases the curtain and lets it flutter over the French doors that overlook both the pool and the ocean beyond.

“It is. But it’s not Aroostook.”

She walks toward me, her hips swaying. My mouth goes dry. I force myself to stand still and enjoy the show. When will my desire for this woman stop driving me crazy? If I’m lucky, never.

Angie stops mere inches away. The air between us pops with electricity, heating up more than the weather outside. Because I have to touch her or I’ll die, I extend my right hand and wrap it around her waist, dipping my fingers under the waistband of her skirt. She shudders as my finger grazes her bare skin.

With only my finger connecting our bodies, I ask, “Are you ready to put in an offer on the house on Cannon Street?”

Her body rolls. She’s been pushing for the other house, the one on West End. Both properties are listed around seven-hundred thousand—a shocking twist for both of us for opposite reasons—have three bedrooms and two-point-five baths, with lovely almost-views of the ocean. Well, only in the winter, when no leaves interfere with the view. While the house she prefers is adorable, the one I’m pushing for isn’t quite as move-in ready. It’s larger, and I’ve been arguing we can put our own stamp on it. She seems to be slowly moving toward my point of view.

“We can use the money from this rental to update it. It won’t dip into our savings, or our wedding fund.” I unzip her skirt and lower my hand to the top of her ass.

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