My Always One - Aleatha Romig Page 0,27

squeeze. "Honey, you're a great lay."

Sami shakes her head as pink fills her cheeks. "You know, I'm not sad. I should be. I know my parents will be furious, but for lack of a better word, I'm relieved."

"Good. You should be. You were right about something else. You deserve better than that asshole."

"I do."

Sitting in the deli, Sami takes a drink of her sweet tea and leans across the table toward me. Unconsciously, I catch a glimpse of her tits from the neckline of her blouse.

"Eyes up here, friend," she says with a glint to her green orbs, emphasizing the last word.

Reluctantly, I lift my gaze. "I don't know how I've never really paid attention.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “They're fucking awesome."

"Well, I could say the same about your monster cock.” A cute hue of pink comes to her cheeks. “But I don't want to give you a bigger head than you already have."

I shrug. "It wouldn't be any different than the millions of other testimonials. I could pull them up for you on my website if you'd like."

"You're so bad."

I pull out my phone. "No, I'm serious. Let me show you."

Sami laughs. "You're a jerk and you already showed me everything in real life. I don't need to see the website, thank you very much."

I tilt my head to the side. "Yes, that's what they all say. Every one of the testimonials is a thank-you. A few are engraved."

“I could give you some flowers.” She shrugs. “I seem to have a lot of them.”

“I’ll pass.”

Suddenly, she sits taller. "I'm going to go to my parents' house tonight to tell them in person that the wedding is off. I think they deserve to hear it straight from me. I'm afraid it's not going to go well."

"Would you like some company?"

"Seriously?" Her tone lightens.

If I wasn't before, I am now. "Seriously," I confirm.

Sami

Back at my condo, after carting all the flowers down to the dumpster, I change out of the slacks and blouse I wore to work and into a pair of jeans, the kind that already had holes when I bought them. Just as I pull the bright green concert tank top over my head, a knock comes from my condo door. I'd told Marshal to meet me here before we went to see my parents. I'm not sure why I like the idea of having him with me to tell my parents, but I do. It is as if when he offered, another weight was taken from my shoulders.

Another knock.

"Just a minute," I call out as I get closer.

Sliding back the deadbolt, I open the door. Instead of baby-blue eyes and light brown hair, all atop of a kick-ass body, I'm met with darker hair, dark brown eyes, and a so-so body. All right, an okay body.

My gaze meets Jack’s. "Leave," I say, placing my hand on my hip.

"Samantha," Jack says as he glances over my shoulder into the living room of the condominium we shared a mere twenty-four hours ago.

"I'm not talking to you, ever."

"Where are the flowers I left you? Did you get the ones I sent to your work?"

"Just stop, Jack. I almost had to go to the emergency room from anaphylactic shock from so many flowers."

"Then maybe you'll like this better?" he asks as he pulls my ring from the pocket of his sports jacket. It wouldn't kill him to wear jeans and a t-shirt, but he rarely does.

My skin itches with irritation as I cross my arms over my breasts. "No."

"You can't throw us away. Not now. Not so close to our wedding. We have plans and people traveling. People who made reservations. You can't ruin it for everyone."

"She didn't, asshole."

My scowl turns to a smile at the sound of Marshal's voice.

Jack turns, coming nearly chest to chest with Marshal, who too has changed from work clothes into something more comfortable. I take a moment to appreciate the way his biceps flex under the tight Under Armour material of his shirt.

"This isn't any of your business, Michaels," Jack says. "Get lost."

I step back and before Jack realizes what happens, Marshal is inside, leaving Jack still on the outside looking in.

"Obviously," Marshal says, "Sami disagrees."

Jack's jaw tightens. "You know, I allowed the friendship thing between the two of you, but don't put your nose where it doesn't belong. Samantha is my fiancée."

“You allowed,” I repeat his word. “Well, I have news for you. I didn’t need nor do I appreciate your permission.