Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

In other news, Brett finally proposed to Jesse. A few weeks ago, he surprised her after her college graduation by renting out an entire bowling alley. It was adorable. Not as sweet as my surprise wedding and crib, but hey, not everyone can land their very own Caleb Jones. However, I think Jesse is still extremely lucky. Brett is a great guy, and no one in the world can miss how much he loves her.

Everyone was there when Brett finally got down on one knee—her family, his family, all of Jesse’s friends, and surprisingly enough, Hunter Coy. It seems he has taken quite a liking to our resident vegetarian. He’s been up here almost every other weekend for the last two months. He claims that it’s just to visit me, but Kara is never far from his side.

Eli was even there too, but not surprisingly, Casey was absent. She and Eli are still dating—or something like that—but she never hangs out with us. I guess I can understand why. This group is a constant reminder of what she lost. It can’t be comfortable to hang out with the men who used to love your best friends and the new women who have filled their lives while you’re two best friends are gone completely. Hopefully Eli is understanding and doesn’t give her crap about it. I’ve only heard from Casey twice since I ran into her at the coffee shop all those months ago. Once she called, but when I picked up, she said that she had the wrong number. We talked for a few minutes and she asked about Sarah. Call me Dionne Warwick, but I have a feeling it wasn’t such an accident at all. A few weeks after that, Eli stopped by with his truck to pick up some barstools Caleb had made for a mutual friend. Casey waved but never even got out. Manda used to live here with Caleb, so again, I can’t even blame her.

“You going to be away this weekend?” Caleb asks while we sit at the dinner table on Thursday night.

“Yes and no. Sarah asked if she could just be alone on Saturday night. So I was thinking maybe we could do like an old-school date night. I’ll have to sleep at her place, but maybe you could pick me up, take me to dinner, make out in the truck for a little while, and then you can drop me back off afterward. Kiss me on the front steps then go home with blue balls. It will be just like high school again.”

He barks out a laugh. “Wow. You even planned my blue balls. You’ve thought of everything. How could I possibly turn down an offer like that?”

“Okay, okay. Fine. If you take me to a fancy restaurant, I’ll give you a hand job in the truck. But only because I love you and not because I can be bought with food right now.”

“Oh God, please tell me you didn’t give hand jobs after dates in high school.”

“Caleb! Don’t be ridiculous. You know I was a complete virgin when we met! I have never even laid eyes on another man’s naked form other than yours,” I lie innocently, batting my eyelashes. .

“I love you, Emmy, but I don’t believe that for even one second. I’m getting hard just thinking about the way you expertly rode me that first night.” He walks around the table and kisses my mouth before carrying my plate to the kitchen. “All that matters is that I’m the last naked man you ever see.”

“I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore,” I announce as he walks away. I want to have sex with my husband. The kind where it’s rough and deep and you can’t walk the next day. But the watermelon I’m carrying is not exactly conducive to sexy time.

“You’re beautiful, so stop. There is plenty of time for dirty sex in the million years to come.”

“Oh all right, I’ll stop complaining. Does that mean we have a PG-13 date planned for this weekend?”

“PG-13?” He asks in horror. “You just offered me a hand job. Thank God we aren’t having a girl, because I’m starting to worry about the credibility your rating system.” I start giggling and stand to slide under his arm. “Yeah, babe. A date sounds great.”





“SARAH, WHERE is your curling iron?”

“I don’t have one. Why?

I walk out of the bathroom and into the den, where she is sitting watching some trashy reality TV.

“You don’t have a curling iron?”

“Just use the straightener to curl the ends under.”

“That won’t work! I was going for sexy wind-tousled curls.” I shake my head like a shampoo model.

“Oh good Lord. You are pregnant and going out on a date with your husband. Just don’t wear yoga pants and I think he will be impressed.”

“This is probably true, but I at least want to try and look nice. I’m going to run back to our place and grab mine. You need anything while I’m out?”

“Nope.” She looks up with a smile.

“Hey, I’m really glad you’re feeling better. I love having you home again.” I pause at the door and look at her just casually sitting on the couch.

She looks so peaceful, not at all like the woman I saw in the counselor’s office a few months ago. It’s a shame that it took her this long, but I feel like she is finally finding herself again.

“Yeah, me too,” she softly answers.