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The Last Phone Booth in Manhattan(3)

Author:Beth Merlin & Danielle Modafferi

“Good morning, fiancée,” Adam said, and enfolded me more tightly into his broad chest.

“I love hearing you say that,” I said, and lifted my chin to press my lips hard against his. Pushing up, I rolled myself on top of him, his body warm and inviting beneath me.

He reached up and played with the hair at the nape of my neck, drawing me down to him for another kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, and between kisses, I stroked his face and he nibbled at my neck.

Mid-nibble, he eyed the clock and groaned. “Ugh, I didn’t realize how late it was. I have an important meeting with some investors who are only in town for the weekend. I told them we could meet today since yesterday we were kinda busy.” He smirked at the understatement.

“Seriously?” I pushed off his chest to sit up, my legs still straddling him, and puffed out my bottom lip. “But it’s Christmas. How long will you be gone? All day?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll try to scoot through it as fast as I can, okay? We can celebrate all the holiday festivities when I get home and allllllll day tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that . . . I mean, we have forever,” he purred in an attempt to assuage the disappointment growing across my face.

But my expression remained unchanged—pouty and frustrated. “I don’t understand. You really have to do this now?”

He sighed and hopped out of bed. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” he said, darting from the room. Moments later, he returned, pouncing into the plume of sheets. “I wasn’t going to give these to you until tonight, but I think I need to pull my ace in the hole now,” he teased. “I planned us a little New Year’s Eve getaway across the pond to celebrate our engagement.” He flashed two paper tickets like a magician showcasing his latest illusion.

I popped up to my knees. “London?! For New Year’s?! Are you serious?” I squealed until I realized that we had made yet another set of plans we’d need to reschedule with my parents, a trend that was unfortunately all too familiar. But they’d understand. I mean, it was London for New Year’s!

“Annnnd, there’s more.” He knelt to face me. “We have box seats for New Year’s Day to that hit show Marley Is Dead playing on the West End. You wanted to see that one, right?”

I pulled my hand away from over my mouth. “But how?! The run has been completely sold out and is rumored to be so for months.”

“I called in a few favors,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, like it was no big deal that he managed to score tickets to the hottest show in London. Marley Is Dead was a modern take on A Christmas Carol, featuring a female lead and a revolutionary score. The rumor was that the musical would be making its way to Broadway, but nothing had been announced yet. It was the type of show I used to dream about performing in, but that was before I set my acting career aside to settle into my amazing life with Adam.

“I don’t deserve you.” I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Right back at you, kid.” Bringing his mouth down to mine, he tightened his grip on my waist and drew me close. My heart pounded against his chest as I melted into the kiss, his hands making their way into my hair and trailing electrical currents along my body. All too quickly, he pulled away, settled one last kiss on my tingling lips, and then climbed out of bed. “I’m going to hop in the shower. The faster I get downtown, the faster I can get home.”

My eyes trailed his footsteps, the swirls of flurries in the gray sky behind him flashing into my line of sight, reminding me just how cold it was out there and how lucky I was to be staying in here. “Want me to make you some coffee before you go?” I offered.

“No, it’s okay. Go back to sleep. Enjoy a lazy Christmas morning in bed. I’ll grab coffee on my way. We can open all the presents Santa brought when I get home.” Adam smirked and disappeared into his walk-in closet to pull out a suit still draped from its hanger. He placed the clothes on a wall hook by the bed.

“My God, there’s more?” I called after him. Even after almost six years together, I still couldn’t get used to Adam’s over-the-top generosity. But Adam felt he worked hard to provide us with a certain lifestyle. He was proud of his success and could never understand why I was still sometimes overwhelmed by that level of extravagance.

I lay there admiring my engagement ring as it winked at me in the morning light. The platinum band spun around my finger with a bit too much ease, and out of an abundance of caution, I slipped it off and into a glass on the nightstand. Better to get it resized than to, God forbid, lose it.

Hearing the ring clink into the glass, Adam turned, his expression sour. “What’s wrong? Don’t you love it?”

“Of course I love it! Are you crazy? The band’s just a little big, and with the cold, I should probably go get it sized so it doesn’t fly off into the snow.”

“Oh, huh. Well, Marco only works by appointment. I can reach out to him to set something up,” Adam offered.

“I’m sure I can take it anywhere in the Diamond District, right? It just needs two of those little balls attached to the bottom part of the band. When we have kids, my fingers might swell like Jimmy Dean sausages, and then I can just have the little ball thingies removed.”

“Jimmy Dean sausages? Really?” He laughed. “Either way, I’d prefer if Marco took care of it. That ring cost almost as much as the down payment on this apartment.”

“You’re joking.”

“I never joke about money,” he said through a grin and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

I beamed up at him. “Just so you know”—I stuck one index finger in the air and the other to my ear, doing my best Mariah Carey–vocal run impression, and sang the famous chorus from “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” my morning voice not quite able to hit those super-octane high notes.

His handsome face lit up. “Very cute.” He kissed me one last time, withdrew into the bathroom, and as thick steam from the shower billowed into the bedroom, snapped the door closed behind him.

Chapter Three

After Adam padded off to the bathroom to shower, I checked my phone on my nightstand and cursed myself for once again forgetting to plug it in to charge overnight. After the barrage of engagement selfies with all the celebrity castmates, videos of the spectacle, and texts sent to everyone I knew, my phone was deader than dead. I plugged it in, turned it facedown, and rolled onto my side, pulling the covers up over my shoulders and tucking a pillow between my knees.

Curled in a little ball and wrapped in the most luxurious thousand-thread-count linens, my body became heavy with fatigue. Maybe it was all the excitement of yesterday finally hitting me. Or the exertion from the sexy all-nighter I had with Adam, a several-hour-long, post-engagement romp. Either way, I didn’t fight the sleepiness that was washing over me and allowed myself to sink into the bed, the scent of crisp snow still fresh in my mind.

Finally, when I was almost lulled back into a hazy, dreamless sleep, a heavy pounding on the front door practically startled me into a heart attack.

“Adam?” I called from underneath the covers but could still hear the water running in the shower. Frick.

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