He pulls a small velvet box out of his pocket and opens it. Inside is a beautiful antique platinum ring with a delicate diamond in the center.
"This belonged to my mother and her grandmother before her. It's not much, but I always thought it was pretty. And if you prefer we can get the diamond reset into a band you like better. The point is—” He clears his throat. “This ring is a part of who I am, and I’ve never offered it to anyone before. And I know you want to focus on your business right now, and I just started school. But I want us to plan our lives together because I am completely, now and forever, in love with you. So, Andie Fiarello, will you marry me?"
And it's the simplest, clearest decision I've ever made in my life. I make him wait for it though, until after I kiss those soft lips.
"Yes. One hundred percent, yes.”
Bonus Material
Can’t get enough of Seth and Andie? Me neither! I created a bonus chapter ofHomewreckerfrom Seth’s point of view and would love to share it with you. Pleaseclick here to receive chapter 15.5, told from Seth’s perspective during the time he and Andie were apart.
Want to know what’s in store for Dr. Jordan Chu and Seth’s fiddle-playing friend Eli? Turn the page to read chapter one ofControl Freak, the second book in the Nasty Woman romantic comedy series…
Control Freak
Chapter One
Arriving at least ten minutes early for meetings and appointments is my power move. I need that much time to get the lay of the land and choose the best seat at the table, preferably one looking out at the room. If this makes me sound like a paranoid mafia boss, so be it.
I check my watch and see that I’m eight minutes early to meet my little sister Olivia for lunch. Two minutes later than I’d like to be, but that’s okay. There will be plenty of time to peruse the menu and make a mental list of benign conversation topics while I wait for her. I’ve already mentally noted a few, such as tips for avoiding skin cancer and anniversary gift ideas for our parents.
As I walk past the window of the restaurant I chose for our meet-up, I see someone inside who resembles my sister with straight black hair, graceful neck, and the devil’s mark on her forehead. I’m kidding about that last bit—there’s no way to see this woman’s forehead because she’s bent over her phone. It can’t be my sister though. Olivia is habitually late, sometimes even a no-show—that’sherpower move—which is why I texted her a reminder this morning about our lunch date. I’m sure she was annoyed because chronically late people hate being reminded of their failings.
The hostess greets me, and I smile back at her.
“I have a noon reservation for Dr. Jordan Chu,” I say.
“Your party is already here.” She gestures across the room. “I’ll show you to your table.”
I peer across the restaurant and, sure enough, Olivia has looked up and is smiling at me. My face flames with irritation, even though I know it’s ridiculous to be annoyed with her for being punctual for possibly the first time ever.
When I get to the table, she stands and kisses me, European style, on both cheeks. This pretentious show of affection takes me by surprise. It’s the first time we’ve touched in years. I inhale the delicate hints of orange blossom and jasmine on her skin, a far cry from the noxious celebrity-of-the-moment perfume she drowned herself in as a teenager.
“Hey, Jordan, how are you?” she asks.
“I’m fine. Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Traffic was awful.”
I don’t know why I’m apologizing for being eight minutes early, except that she’s thrown me off my footing by being on time. I take the chair across from her, bristling with irritation as I realize I’m right below a vent that’s spewing ice-cold air. Fortunately, I have a light cardigan packed in my bag because I always have a backup plan.
“Thanks for coming to Durham.” She settles back into her chair with an ease I’ve never mastered. “I could have come to you.”
She’s traded her New York City pallor and saggy, black wardrobe for what must be her Los Angeles look—tan, toned, and chic. The soft, white jersey shirt she’s wearing plays beautifully against her golden skin.
“No problem. I know you don’t have a car here.”
Olivia flew in from Los Angeles two days ago to visit our parents, and she shocked the hell out of me by asking if we could get lunch while she’s in town. We don’t usually hang out, certainly not just the two of us, and I can’t help wondering what’s on her agenda today.
“How is life in Foster’s Creek?” she asks.
She’s referring to the small town I moved to three years ago when I got my position at the county hospital.
I unfold my napkin and place it on my lap. “It’s still mainly tractors and flannel. My drive to work is ten minutes though so it’s convenient.”
“Really? I hear it’s the hip, new place to be. Mom was talking about it last night, the cool restaurants and shops downtown. She was raving about the yarn store.”
I think back to the two-stoplight town Foster’s Creek was when we were kids. It has changed tremendously over the years, especially since a tech company set up headquarters a half hour away. Olivia hasn’t been around to see its slow transformation.
“It’s not exactly Brooklyn, but we have a microbrewery and a yoga studio. There are some cool places to hang out.”
