Page 157 of Only Mine
“That tracks,” he says.
Noa hooks her arm through his and kisses his cheek, and both of them appear genuinely delighted with each other.
While they’re canoodling, Rome steps onto the last green, lines up, and taps the ball in without breaking stride.
He turns, stretches his arms over his head, and says, “I’m done. Someone hand me a drink.”
“You’re not even going to ask your score?” Noa asks.
“I already know I won,” Rome replies, grabbing the beer Stone hands him and taking a long pull.
Saint mutters next to me, “God help the woman who ends up with that one.”
I laugh and elbow him playfully. “That can be said about all three of you men.”
Rome’s date finally emerges from the snack bar, all legs and sequined top that catches the mini golf course’s carnivallights. She’s his third this month. Or maybe fourth, I’ve lost count.
She munches on popcorn while pressing herself against his side.
“Anyone keeping score?” she asks.
“Only the losers,” Rome says with a wink, his arm sliding around her waist. “Winners focus on more important things.” His fingers brush against the exposed skin of her midriff, and she giggles.
Saint rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re drenched,” Rome counters. “Seems like the clown made its choice.”
I grab Saint’s putter before he can weaponize it. “How about we finish this round and head to dinner? I’m starving.”
“Good idea,” Noa says, hooking her arm through Stone’s. “Stone’s jet lag is hitting, and I promised him decent food if he went on this triple-date.”
I stifle another smile. Noa took her double-date threat and multiplied it, adding Rome and his flavor of the week solely to irritate Saint. She got my stamp of approval because Saint’s grumpiness is my favorite kind of foreplay.
I lean into Saint’s side, savoring his warmth in the cool evening air on the last day of fall. It hits me that I have no plans to move back to the city. Falcon Haven is my home. This is my new life, surrounded by real friends and loved by a man who once scowled at the very idea of a happily ever after. I don’t think I’ve grinned around a bunch of people as much as I have with this group, and while my cheek muscles ache, I love every minute of it.
We’d taken Ivy to the yearly carnival earlier in the day, then decided to come back at night for some adult time. About a month ago, we found and hired a new nanny, Francine. So far, she’s great at handling both IvyandSaint.
“I wish you could film Saint,” Noa says to me as she breaks away from Stone and walks up to us. “The look on his face when that clown sprayed him would have broken the internet. Again.”
“Absolutely not,” Saint says, steering me toward the exit. “My humiliation is not for public consumption.”
There’s no real heat in his response. He’s gotten used to the idea that parts of my life will end up online, though he still draws hard lines around Ivy and himself, which I respect.
“What about a cooking challenge?” Rome suggests, his date now perched on his hip like a glamorous accessory. “Saint versus Stone. Battle of the millionaires.”
Stone looks horrified. “I don’t cook. Ask Noa. I have people for that.”
“Yes, he only joined me in the kitchen initially to get into my pants,” Noa says, yelping when Stone pokes her side.
“It worked, though,” he says, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.
Rome’s date giggles at their banter. I think her name is Amber? Scarlett? She pulls at his arm, pointing toward the Ferris wheel. I still can’t place her name, but her bouncing breasts suggest she really wants on that ride.
“I’m starving,” Stone announces, loosening his tie. “Please tell me Maisy’s still running the barbecue stand.”
“Same spot as always,” Saint confirms.
Though he wouldn’t be caught dead running a food stand at a carnival, the only reason I was able to drag him back here after dropping off Ivy was the promise of Maisy’s home cooking and the line of food trucks that drive into town specifically for the carnival. He plans to taste everything on offer and I’m more than happy to sample every bite of what he wants to feed me.
