Page 53 of Ambrosia Kisses
Trevor and Gracie both laugh quietly as Lucy turns to me, sliding an arm around my waist.
"You realize this means we're going to be sisters, right?" she asks, resting her head against mine.
"I did consider that," I say. "But I was kind of hoping you'd be my Maid of Honor first."
"Really?"
"Uh, yeah! Are you kidding me? Who else would I ask? I have like one other friend, and I don't think Oliver would look good in a dress."
"Hey, I might," he protests.
"Get your own role," Lucy grumbles at him. "I'm her Maid of Honor."
"So…I take it that's a yes, then?"
"Are you kidding me? Of course it's a yes!" she cries, flinging her arms around me in a tight hug.
I squeeze her back just as tightly, meeting Ridley's gaze over her head. He grins at me, his eyes shining with happiness, and my heart turns a flip in my chest. My eyes sting too.
This is… God, this is the dream. It's everything.
I wish like hell that Pierce could be here to see it. He'd be so damn proud of me. I know he would. But I kind of think maybe he already knows. He's probably been up there the whole time, trying to push us back together. It took a few years because we're both stubborn, but better late than never.
This was worth the wait. It was worth the tears. It was worth every damn minute because it means more now. We know what we're fighting for now, and what's at stake. We know what it's like to lose what matters, and how fucking hard it is to go through the motions, pretending you're fine when you aren't. We know what we're willing to sacrifice…and what we aren't. It takes some people a lifetime to figure that out.
"You okay, Dimples?" Ridley mouths.
"Perfect," I whisper, and for the first time in a long time, I mean it. Regardless of whether I get the job tomorrow or not, I'm perfect. I have him. I know exactly what I want and where I'm headed. And God, it feels so damn good.
Chapter Twelve
Ridley
"Lucy told me thatI'm supposed to tell you that we need to release Ambrosia Kisses," Oliver says, staring at me from across my office.
I grunt in response, turning to resume pacing.
"Apparently, Paisley asked her to help convince you."
"The wine isn't for the public."
"Why not?"
"It's special," I mutter. It's the only explanation I feel like giving. No one else needs to know why I poured my soul into trying to get it just right. That's for me and Paisley to know.
Oliver doesn't say anything for a long moment as he watches me pace. "Then release it as a special addition to the line," he suggests. "Mark it up, sell limited quantities."
"I don't want to sell it at all."
"Why the fuck not? That's what we do around here, brother. We sell fucking wine."
"Because it's her," I growl, turning to glare at him. "I made it for her. To taste like her."
"You mean her…?" His brow rises.
"Jesus Christ. No. What the fuck?"
"Thank God," he breathes. "Because this conversation was about to get awkward as fuck if that's what you meant."
