Tangled Games (Dating Games #5) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,5

eligible bachelor. But Izzy’s never cared what anyone thought of her. Although she’s adopted, she grew up with the unwavering support of two loving parents. They never berated her or made her feel like she’ll never measure up. Like she’s a complete failure at everything she does.

Like my mother has always made me feel.

“All that matters is that he chose you,” Evie adds. “That he loves you. That he wants your pussy for the rest of his life.”

I burst out laughing.

This is one of the many reasons these girls are my family, my soul mates. No matter what happens in my life, they have my back.

When I told them I’d agreed to marry my now-ex, Jeremy, after only a few months, they offered their unwavering support, once they made sure it was what I wanted. It wasn’t, but that didn’t make them turn their backs. It only made them support me even more.

When I told them I’d discovered Jeremy in bed with another man, they helped me drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine. Not once did they question what I did to make Jeremy stray, like my mother did. They happily helped me navigate my divorce.

And once my divorce was finalized, they threw me a party to celebrate the next stage of my life. It was at that party they opened my eyes to the fact I married Jeremy to try and patch a wound that still hadn’t healed.

That I was still holding onto Hunter.

That I needed to let him go in order to find the happiness I deserved.

So I set out to do just that. Never did I expect to meet a man like Anderson along the way.

I truly believe some higher power played a hand in our meeting. Knew that we were two lost souls in need of something… In need of each other.

When I glance across the room to where he laughs and jokes with Lincoln, Asher, and Julian, my heart expands. Over the past months, they’ve welcomed him into their fold, treating him like he’s just one of the guys, not the heir to the throne of the European Nation of Belmont.

I hope that doesn’t change.

As if able to sense me staring, his eyes find mine. Every time our gazes lock like this, it feels like the first time I glanced up in a Downtown Chicago diner to see him staring at me. I still feel my surprise when I left the pool at my motel on Route 66 and ran into him…literally. I still feel the awe and wonder when he told me I was beautiful the first time.

It’s these mundane events that will always hold a special place in my heart. The foundation of who we are as a couple. I have to believe these building blocks of our relationship are strong enough to help us navigate the uncertainty of our future.

At least the uncertainty of my future.

Anderson’s future has been written since he was born. I just hope there’s a place in it for me, too.

“Can I have your attention please?” Evie calls out.

I snap my gaze to where she stands in the center of the room, the picture of the perfect hostess.

“It’s not an engagement party without a toast.” She nods at Izzy, who walks around with a tray, offering a glass to everyone, specifying which ones have alcohol and which don’t.

Anderson approaches with two flutes, extending one toward me. “One tiny sip won’t hurt,” he murmurs so no one can hear as I wrap my fingers around the flute.

I nod in agreement. He isn’t a big drinker these days. Not after his doctors recommended avoiding alcohol to help prevent any multiple sclerosis flareups.

“Okay, you love birds,” Chloe teases. “If you can keep your hands off each other for a minute or two, I’d like to say a few words.”

He pulls away, but keeps me in his embrace, a finger tracing a light circle on my bicep. It’s a simple gesture, but it still lights me on fire. It doesn’t help I thought we’d be having sex once we got back here, not walking into a surprise engagement party. Talk about being cock blocked. Or, in my case, clam jammed.

“I met Nora during our freshman year of college,” Chloe begins, a nostalgic smile on her face. “We were both scared. Both in a strange place. Both forced to grow up pretty damn quickly, although the jury’s still out on whether we’ve succeeded in that.”

“Growing up is overrated,” Anderson states with

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