Ten Thousand Words (57 page)

A day hadn’t gone by since where my world didn’t revolve around her in some fashion. Xanthe had become my everything—my muse, my mentor, my beloved, my lover, my roommate, my constant companion, my best friend.

As I stepped out of the jewelry store, I knew that, tonight, she’d become my fiancée, and one day soon, I hoped to make her my wife. If having my heart and soul wasn’t enough to entice the little weirdo hipster, then certainly the five-carat pear-cut diamond platinum ring I’d just dropped a shit-ton of cash on should. I’d had to tap into my resources for that one. Hell,
I
wanted to marry me after I’d found it.

Having stowed the ring deep in the pocket of my jeans, I pulled out my phone and dialed up the weirdo hipster’s father.

“Hello, Oliver,” David said by way of greeting.

“Hey, Dad. Listen…I just wanted to call to let you know—well, to ask really…for your blessing?” My tone inflected, revealing my nervousness. I shouldn’t be. The man liked me well enough. But still. “I’ve bought Xanthe an engagement ring, and tonight, I plan on asking her to marry me.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

David chuckled. “You have my blessing. Now, I suggest you give the boys a call. Somehow, I think it’s their blessing that actually holds any weight in this situation.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

Ricki, Ronen, and Rex were like brothers to me. This past year had brought us all so close. I still had no idea what they did, outside of their normal lives, besides an occasional murder, but I had just accepted it for what it was.

Trey, on the other hand…he wasn’t so accepting. He and Rex were still together, but there was a palpable strain put on their relationship.

“Okay,” I replied. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Just keep making her happy, and I won’t sic the boys on you.”

The image of Ricki unsuccessfully tackling me danced through my head, and I had to smile. “Sure thing, Dad.”

Hanging up with David, I called Ricki. I’d have called Rex, but he and Trey were out having brunch and an argument somewhere, and I didn’t want to get caught up in that.

“Hey, man,” he answered. I could hear tattoo machines buzzing in the background. “What’s up?”

“David told me to call you guys and ask for your blessing.”

“Oh, yeah? What for?”

“Seriously?”

“Ser—wait. As in,
our blessing
?”

“Yep.”

“Get your arse here pronto, douche bag,” he stated before hanging up.

By this time in our friendship, douche bag was a term of endearment—most of the time, at least.

The Inkwell was Ricki and Ronen’s shop. I had been here several times over the past year.

Ricki had given me my first tattoo, a feather identical to Xanthe’s, only mine had the quill point over my heart with
Xanthe
—in her actual handwriting—beneath it. I’d snagged that bit from a piece of paper I’d seen in her brown leather notebook with a doodle of our names with hearts and swirls, dated back to the first night we’d slept in the same bed.

In retaliation to that tattoo, Xanthe had gotten
Oliver
in a very swirly script on her inner left wrist. She’d thought I’d be put out by it, but I had been absolutely delighted. Then, she’d threatened me with laser removal, and I’d held her down and fucked her the way she loved it best until she promised she’d do no such thing. That had been fun.

The electric door chime cackled evilly—in honor of Halloween, of course—as I entered the shop. Ricki was taking cash off a customer and shoving it into the register. I recognized the man as one of his boys and received a chin tilt in greeting. I returned the gesture as he walked out.

“So…” said Ricki. “Our blessing is needed, eh?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask for it. Either way, I’m asking her to marry me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes,” I replied, wondering where this was headed.

“You get the ring?”

“I did,” I replied, swelling with something akin to pride.

“Let’s see it then.”

Like the douche bag he accused me of being, I walked behind the counter and pulled the velvet box from my pocket. I snapped it open and watched with a hint of smugness as Ricki’s jaw dropped.

“Damn. I guess you are serious,” he stated.

“Very.”

“What is that? Four? Five?”

“Five.”

“Nice. I only got Jaime a four.”

“Who’s the douche bag now?” I scoffed good-naturedly.

“It’ll always be you, man.”

“No doubt.”

Ricki’s eyes met mine head-on, and for a split second, his eyes looked weird to me, like they should be a different color than the dark brown.

“You know what this means, right?” he asked.

“Not really, no.”

“It means, you’re gonna be family. And family knows shit. You feeling me?”

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. “No shit.”

“I shit you not, brother. Xanthe would never tell because it’s not her story. If you’re serious, if you want her for the rest of your life, then you will have to know. But you can change your mind right now. You can still be with her—we’d never stop that—but if you want her for your
wife
, then you need to know what that entails. And once you know, there’s no going back.”

“I’m going to be her husband,” I told him. “She’s already told me she wants to be my wife.”

“Then, follow me,” he said.

I did. And I never looked back.

Thank you to my family. Espen and Makenna, you are my life.

Thank you, Em, for being my rock, my voice of reason, and for all the love and support you’ve given me. I’d be lost without you.

Thank you, Jaime, for telling me under no circumstances should I give this one up.

Thank you, Renee, for creating the gorgeous cover. You always listen to what is in my head and heart. And thank you for being such a great friend.

Jovana—I can’t thank you enough for all the magic you create. You take my words and make them shine.

To my street team! Where would I be without you guys? Thank you for all your hard work and encouragement!

A shout out to my COPA Cabana chicas. I’m honored to be a part of such an awesome group of women and fellow authors. Thank you for all the support and positivity. I love you gals hard!

Born and raised in Miami, Kelli Jean traded the tropical heat for the arctic. Now, she deals with twenty-four-hour daylight in the summer, zero sunlight in the winter, and believes the Northern Lights make up for the mind-boggling amount of ice and snow she has to put up with for seven months out of the year. She’s surrounded by mountains and ocean and sheep, and she claims her bizarre sense of humor is what keeps her sane.

The insane don’t know they’re insane.

Kelli uses her imagination to create worlds she can escape to from the mundane tasks of everyday life, such as washing the damn dishes and vacuuming up Legos off the floor—and don’t get her started on the mad amount of cat hair on the end of the couch. She gave up on that a long time ago. When the household goes to sleep at night, she writes down everything that happened in her head while doing such tedious chores. But she enjoys living in her own head, so that’s pretty cool.

Technology terrifies her. She can barely turn on a computer, and she was completely shocked when she’d actually written a book using one. To this day, she has no explanation for this baffling mystery. It took her three years to realize she can take screenshots of messages and pictures of bearded, tattooed men with her phone. Now that she’s mastered this task, her phone is slowly dying, and she’s nervous that she’s going to have to buy a new one, and it will take her another three years to learn how to use it.