Meet Cute, Elise Faber [audio ebook reader .TXT] 📗

the last thread of my control. I scooped her up, carried her to the bathroom and made quick work of removing our clothes. A few moments later, we were in the shower—or attempting to, anyway.

Because it was truly tiny.

And try as we might, two grown-ass adults couldn’t properly fit.

One of us always had an arm or leg out the top or side, and it was a struggle to stay warm and not flood the bathroom, let alone wash ourselves.

But then with some sheer determination on Tammy’s part, she managed to get us clean enough that we could stumble out, use towels to wipe up most of the water, make our way to the bed, and flop down. We were both laughing so hard that it was impossible to do anything but cling to each other and wait until we’d found some semblance of control.

Eventually, I managed, rolling her to her back, holding those gorgeous hazel eyes in my gaze. “Thank you,” I murmured.

Her hands cupped my face. “I love you.”

“You’re my heart.”

The smile she gave me patched over all those empty spots, filled me with so much joy and hope that I didn’t care about my father and all the answers I didn’t—and probably would never—have.

My childhood had been a mess. My parents hadn’t been good.

Those were facts.

But I had something more now.

I had Tammy and Maggie and Aaron, Eden, Pierce, and Artie. I was building a family that was my own, one that was healthy, that I could rely on.

And whatever happened with the man who’d fathered me wouldn’t change any of that.

Because my family had my back.

And while the giant gaping holes inside me weren’t completely gone, they were getting smaller, filling in, and I knew that eventually they might disappear altogether.

Until then?

Tammy’s lips found mine.

I had this, had her.

And that was so much more than enough.

Epilogue

Talbot, Six Months Later

“We don’t have to do this,” I said when I felt Tammy trembling next to me.

We were standing backstage, listening to the rumble of voices just beyond the curtain of the daytime talk show that saw millions of viewers a day. It was the feel-good capital of the world, the one telling everyone to be kind to each other, and it was the perfect place to get the real story out.

It was also part of Maggie’s plan.

Tammy swallowed hard, looking fucking beautiful in the slacks and button-down that she’d picked out from the rack of clothes Maggie had brought by the house that morning. Her hair was down, flowing in a shining sheet beyond her shoulders, and the makeup people had made her approach supermodel beauty.

She’d probably say I was biased.

And I supposed I was.

She was fucking gorgeous made up like this, and also amazingly beautiful with her hair pulled back, nothing on her face.

I was whipped.

After six months. Well, it had really only taken a few days before I’d gotten to that state. Okay, no, I suppose I’d been lost for her from the moment she’d started stripping down in front of me in that tiny, walled garden. Regardless of the exact timing of this woman stealing my heart, these last months had been the best of my life. As the cliché went, I fell more in love with Tammy every day, and life was smooth and easy and peaceful, especially since we spent the vast majority of our time in Darlington.

Now, however, with her terrified and looking pale enough to topple over, I took her hand, started tugging her back toward the green room.

We didn’t need to do this.

It took a few moments before she realized what was happening.

“What are you doing?” she said, dragging her heels, scrabbling at my hold.

“You’re terrified. You don’t want to do this.” I wrapped my fingers around her wrist when she slipped free. “So, you’re not doing this.”

“I’m fine,” Tammy said, breaking my hold. “I told you, I want to do this.”

“I’ll go out and talk to everyone.”

She lifted her chin. “It’s my charity,” she said, moving beyond the bemused production assistants in the hall. “So, I’m the one talking about it.”

“Tam—”

A girl with a clipboard stepped forward. “We’re ready for you both.”

I lifted a finger, took Tammy’s hand again. “Just a second.”

“Of course, Mr. Green.”

“Tammy,” I began, leaning over to whisper in her ear.

“I love you,” she whispered, “but if you don’t let me do this, so help me God, I will make you play Munchkin with me.” A beat. “Twice.”

I shuddered, not because the game was bad. It was actually really fun—except when someone was playing against Tammy, who took absolutely no quarter and destroyed me every single time.

It was on our banned games list.

Along with Uno because of my tactics—since I was a master with the Skip and Draw Four cards.

I looked forward to adding to the list, because it would mean more time together, more memories and moments with our family and friends and just each other. But right now, I didn’t want Tammy to do something she didn’t want to do.

“I’m just—”

“Looking out for me,” she whispered. “I know, baby. But I need to do this.”

“Mr. Green?” came a tentative voice, more urgent now.

Tammy took my hand this time and led me to the stage entrance. “We’re ready,” she said.

A moment later, the music blared, and we walked out to greet the host, to wave at the cheering audience, to talk about our relationship and my movies, and, most importantly, to tell everyone about the charity that Tammy had started.

WorldCare.

Whose first goal of operation was to connect kids with caring adults. Next would be the isolated elderly.

Such a simple concept, and so perfectly encapsulating this woman.

Later that week, when we were back in Darlington, cuddled on the couch as we watched the show air, and WorldCare’s website crashed from all the donations, Tammy glanced at me with tears in her eyes and just whispered my favorite phrase of all time, “I love you.”

And I’d be damned if I could find any holes inside me.