Page 190 of Rock Bottom Girl
“They’re either making up or breaking up.”
“It’s the perfect distraction,” he said, dragging me by the good arm toward the stairs.
We snuck upstairs, giggling. It was dark on the second floor, and Jake fumbled with the light switch as he pushed me into the bedroom. Our bedroom, I thought. He flicked the switch, and the sconces on the wall glowed to life. The bed was made with…were those new linens?
“What do you think?” he asked, rubbing my shoulder.
The duvet was a nice, manly navy. Plain, simple, and a thousand times better than the scratchy comforter he’d had before. The pillows, well, there was a mountain of them. In blues and grays.
I crawled onto the mattress and flopped back against them. “Ahhh. This is really nice,” I whispered.
He slid in next to me and carefully rolled me to the side so he could spoon me. His body against mine was the more I’d been looking for. This room. This bed. This house. This life. I was sure. And it had only taken a fractured radius, an honest sister, and a miserable nemesis for me to get the message.
“I love you, Jake Weston,” I whispered.
He brushed his hand through my hair. “I love you, Marley Cicero.” His lips tickled my ear. I felt him go hard against me, but he didn’t make a move to tear my clothes off. He just held me like there was nothing else in the whole world he’d rather be doing.
“Where are we going to put the Christmas tree?” I asked, staring out the still curtain-less windows.
I felt him smile. “I think one in the living room and maybe a small one up here.”
“I’d like that,” I confessed.
Jake kissed my neck softly, sweetly, taking his time.
And I sank into that love, that goodness, that anticipation of all good things to come.
“Have you given any thought to whether you want to be Mrs. Cicero or Mrs. Weston?” he asked, sliding his hand under my sweater to cup my breast.
Epilogue
Marley
“Are you guys getting up?” the long-suffering voice demanded through the door.
“It’s summer,” I groaned. Next to me, Jake pulled the comforter over his head and snuggled closer.
“It’s not summer. It’s graduation. Tomorrow it’s summer.”
“Being a teacher is hard,” I moaned into the pillow. I’d survived an entire school year as a gym teacher. Okay, admittedly, I had it easier than most of the faculty. But still. I’d been getting up early since August. I felt that I deserved a late morning with my handsome boyfriend.
“It’s noon. You guys have two hours to eat, shower, and make yourselves presentable.”
“She’s not going to go away,” Jake yawned.
“Do you ever feel like she’s more our legal guardian than we are hers?” I asked him.
“Only every day,” he said with a sleepy laugh before pulling a pillow over his head.
Grumbling, I stumbled out of bed, pulled on pajama pants and a t-shirt, and opened the door.
Libby smirked at me. “Look at you, all picture-perfect.”
“Shut your face, smarty pants. What are you so excited about, anyhow? You still have an entire year of the horrors of high school left.”
“My friends that you forced me to make are graduating today. So, really, my excitement and your 12:05 p.m. wake-up call are your own fault.” She pushed a mug of coffee into my hands.
“Bless you, child. You don’t by chance have five or six other siblings we could foster, do you? The lawn’s getting a little tall, and it would be nice to have a designated kid for garbage takeout,” I mused.
