Actually Love - Jessie & Zach (38 page)

“I love you.” Zach pulled her close and held her against him as relief washed over him.

“I love you, too,” she said. He felt the heat of Jessie’s breath on his neck as she spoke. As he ran his hands up and down her back, she began peppering his neck with kisses. “I missed you. I missed being in your arms.”

“I missed you being in my arms,” he said, holding her tighter.

Zach knew, better than most, that life was not always going to be easy, but he knew that, if he had Jessie in his arms and in his corner, he could face anything because he’d already won the greatest prize there was. He’d found his perfect person.

“W
elcome home, Mrs. Courtland,” Zach said as he pulled into the space behind their brownstone.

Jessie got butterflies in her stomach as Zach smiled over at her. Then he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the ring he’d placed on it a little over a week ago.

“We’re really married,” she laughed a little. It still seemed surreal. She kept saying it out loud and it still seemed like a fairytale to her.

They called Jessie’s parents and Anna before they’d gone to get the marriage license on New Year’s Eve, just in case the story got leaked by paparazzi since the media attention on Zach had been so intense. Their parents had happily given them their blessing, and by the time they’d said their vows, they’d gotten messages from all of Jessie’s sisters and cousins congratulating them.

The ceremony was quick. The clergyman said a few words and asked a few questions, to which Jessie and Zach both answered, “I do.” Maxi and Billy, who were their witnesses, signed a piece of paper, and that was it. They were married.

Saying “I do” to Zach had been the happiest moment of Jessie’s life. Then they’d gone to Hawaii for five days on an impromptu honeymoon, where they planned on going to the beach, hiking up to waterfalls, and zip-lining. But they never left the hotel room—or more specifically, the bed.

“Yep. We are really married.” Zach nodded as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. “You’re stuck with me.”

A loud knock sounded, startling both Jessie and Zach. Looking over, they saw Margie and Mabel waving wildly outside the passenger side window.

“Honeymoon’s over.” Zach winked at her as they got out of the car.

“Is it true?” Margie screeched.

“Did you two really get hitched?” Mabel exclaimed.

“Yes,” Zach said as he walked around the car and pulled Jessie to his side. She shivered against him. Chicago in the January was a lot different than Hawaii in January.

“For real. Not fake like when you said you two were a couple?” Margie asked excitedly.

“What do you mean fake?” Jessie asked.

“We mean when you pretended to be together so you could rent the place,” Mabel explained.

“You knew?!” Zach and Jessie said in unison.

“Of course we knew!” Margie threw her hands up in the air.

“We were born, but it wasn’t yesterday,” Mabel added.

Jessie and Zach looked at each other in shock.

Then Jessie turned back to the ladies. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Where’s the fun in that? You should have seen you two. It was hilarious.” Mabel cracked up, and Margie joined her. After she composed herself again, she continued. “And see? It’s a good thing we didn’t. Look how well it turned out.”

“That’s true. Thank you,” Zach said as he hugged both ladies.

“Yes,” Jessie said as she hugged them both after Zach. “Thank you.”

“Well if you really want to thank us, you’ll invite us to the wedding celebration,” Margie said as if she’d already rehearsed the line.

Jessie hadn’t even sent out invitations. Only her family knew about the party. “How did you know?”

“Facebook,” they both answered.

Oh boy. Grandpa J was not going to be happy about this.

Note: This is an unedited excerpt. It may differ from the final version.

“I
s that yours, dear?” Stella asked, pointing her wrinkled finger, topped with a long, fire-engine red, press-on nail, towards a huge, neon green and bright pink leopard print suitcase.

Really
?

Becca realized that she’d only known Stella a whopping grand total of the four hours that it had taken to fly from Los Angeles to Chicago, but she really would have thought that it was glaringly clear that Becca was
not
a flashy-colored leopard print girl. She
wished
she was a flashy-colored leopard print girl, but she
knew
she was a taupe luggage girl. Sure, she’d tied a purple band around the handle so that her plain-Jane baggage would stand out from the rest, but the luggage itself was still boring, safe, run-of-the-mill taupe.

But maybe this woman that Becca barely knew saw something in her that she herself didn’t see. After taking several psych classes over the years, Becca knew it was common knowledge that most people’s perceptions of themselves were drastically different than the reality of what others saw them as. Still, it was hard for her to believe anyone would see her as flashy or risk-taking which, in Becca’s opinion, was exactly what neon green and bright pink luggage screamed of its owner.

“Nope, that’s not mine,” Becca answered sweetly as her eyes followed the loud suitcase as it passed by.

Taking a deep breath, Becca tried to calm her racing heart as she stood in the baggage claim area watching the conveyor belt go round and round. Her mind was so scattered she wasn’t sure if she’d missed her plain-Jane suitcases or if they just hadn’t made an appearance yet.

She’d been standing here for at least fifteen minutes with the sole task of grabbing her luggage. Simple, right? Yeah, not so much.

Her mind kept getting sidetracked by the fact that any second now her ride would be here. Any second now, she would come face to face with her best friend in the whole world, whom she’d been having extremely inappropriate (naughty!) dreams about for,
mmm
, the past year, and with greater intensity over the last six months since her sister Haley’s wedding.

The same wedding that she only remembered bits and pieces of thanks to her good friend Jose Cuervo. What had begun as one shot to loosen up after finals had turned out to be a slippery slope of alcoholic consumption. After taking one too many turns on the slip-n-slide of shots, a lot of the evening was a total blank, or at least
really
fuzzy.

Except one moment. The kiss. Becca clearly remembered being lip-to-lip with her life-long best friend, the person who was picking her up today. Brian. At least she
thought
that’s what she remembered. She wasn’t sure what led up to the smooch or what transpired after, but that moment seemed as real as could be and she was having a difficult time erasing it from her memory.

Becca kept glancing over her shoulder, furiously scanning the sea of people that stood around her. Brian was hard to miss. At almost six-foot-four, he towered over most people. His height had always been a source of frustration for him, probably because he’d reached his current stature before they’d even graduated from middle school. Becca remembered him
literally
having growing pains through all of eighth grade.

Growing up, she’d always found his height comforting and endearing. And for the last year—she was embarrassed to admit—she found it hot, and sexy. Maybe it was because as an adult he’d filled out so nicely. Where he used to be tall and gangly he was now tall and oh-my-lord-fan-yourself-swoon-worthy
hot
.

Stop it!
Becca chided herself. She seriously had to lock that kind of thinking down before coming face to face to face with the unknowing, unwitting, unsuspecting recipient of her newfound appreciation of said panty-melting physique.

Focus
. She needed to get her luggage. Find Brian. Greet him normally. Then casually, in an oh-so-platonic fashion, catch up and visit on the ride back to Harper’s Crossing. That’s all. No biggie. Easy breezy.

Spotting a bright polka-dotted, rectangular, hardcover suitcase, she decided that it would be her starting point. If it came around again and she still hadn’t spotted her own bags then she would know she hadn’t missed them.

“Oh, look dear, isn’t that your boyfriend?” Stella’s hand rested on Becca’s forearm as she nodded her head in the direction of the ticket counters.

Becca’s heart was pounding so hard she feared that that there was a very distinct possibility it was going to pump right up her neck and out her mouth (luckily, as a pre-med student, she knew that was physically impossible). She turned her head, in what felt like slow motion, towards the area Stella had indicated. Sure enough, Brian was headed her way, easily navigating through the crowded airport in sure and confident strides.

As he made his way closer, everything stopped. Her world stopped turning. She stopped breathing. Where just seconds ago her heart felt like it was beating furiously, now it felt as if it had stopped all together.

After a few seconds she began detecting activity in her body. Her hands tingled as if coming back to life after falling asleep. Her stomach flipped like it was Jack and Jill tumbling down the hill. The area below her stomach was pulsing as fast as her heart had been moments before. In fact, maybe that’s where her heartbeat had migrated to.

Be normal. Act normal
, she reminded herself.

Becca watched as Brian brushed his light brown hair off his forehead as his head turned from side to side, searching the crowd. Where he was easy to spot, Becca was not. At five foot three—on a good day—and average dark hair covering her head, standing out in a crowd was not Becca’s strong suit.

Somehow, Brian always managed to find her, though. He used to joke that locating Becca in a crowd of people was like playing Where’s Waldo. To which she’d say it was probably an easy game for him to play since he was a giraffe. The ongoing joke had even inspired Halloween costumes their senior year of high school.

Becca still remembered how shocked she had been to open the door, dressed head to toe as Waldo on her way to the dance, to find Brian standing on her porch in a giraffe costume. They hadn’t planned it, in fact their costumes had been top-secret so that the other wouldn’t know. They’d both doubled over in hysterics, laughing so hard they couldn’t speak.

That’s how it had always been between them. In sync. Easy. Fun.

Which was why she’d felt so off-balance this past year since her feelings had evolved into something more. Not being on the same page with Brian had been a struggle. Every interaction they had, whether it was a phone call, Facetime, Skype, e-mail, or text she’d constantly second guess herself to make sure she was behaving the way she always had in the pre when-did-Brian-become-so-ridiculously-hot days.

The moment his search landed on her and their eyes met the tiny hairs on the Becca’s arms and the back of her neck stood tall at attention. When his lips parted, revealing perfect white teeth and the dimple on his left cheek, Becca’s knees weakened. When his deep voice greeted her, she grew light-headed with desire.

“Hey, Beckles,” Brian called her by the nickname he’d adopted for her in first grade as he pulled her into a warm embrace.

When Becca was young, she’d had her fair share of freckles sprinkled over her nose. She’d never liked them but Brian had done his best to convince her that they were cool. Part of his campaign had led to the nickname. Becca realized as she grew up, a nickname was the coolest thing ever for a six-year-old boy.

“Hey, Bri,” Becca tried to steady her shaky voice as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

His large hand threaded through her hair as he held her head against his chest. “I missed you,” he said as he kissed the crown of her head.

“Same here.” Becca hoped that he couldn’t feel her heart pounding like it was trying out for a drum line against his firm abs.

Arousal spread through Becca’s body like cream poured into coffee. Soon her entire being was filled with it. Obviously, her hormones were not heeding the pep talk she had given them on the plane ride. Logically, she knew that Brian’s outpouring of affection did not have any sexual undertones whatsoever. He’d always been very demonstrative and affectionate with the people close to him, the people he cared about. And Brian did care about her, love her even, as a friend.