No sooner is he cross-legged on the floor than I’m gently putting his Christmas gift in his lap. Where it wriggles and squirms and leaps up to lick his face. Josh’s eyes pop open to take in the fluffy chocolate brown labradoodle.
All he can do is laugh as the puppy leaps at him, madly licking his face, as not just its tail, but its whole back end, whips back and forth.
“I can’t believe you got me a dog.” He rubs the puppy’s head, already totally in love. “Apart from you, this is the best gift ever.”
Hours later, when everyone is conked out in a food coma—most especially the as-yet-unnamed puppy, who is sprawled on Ty’s lap—Josh finds me admiring my new earrings in the ensuite mirror.
“They’re all asleep.” He presses into my back and kisses my neck, right below where my beautiful gift sways. “Maybe we could have a nanna nap too. A naked nanna nap.”
“I like the way you think.” I rub my arse over his ready and willing erection. “How about you lock the door.”
And I can’t decide which present is best. The earrings or the orgasm. But at the end of the day, neither of them compares to the gift of Josh.
“I think you might need to draw up some more blueprints,” Josh says as we lay sweaty and exhausted. “That dog’s going to need a pretty special kennel.”
“Lucky thing blueprints are my specialty then, isn’t it?”
“Very lucky. If it wasn’t for your blueprints, who knows how long it would’ve taken me to pull my head out of my arse?”
Before I can answer, there’s a whining and scratching at the door. We look at one another and laugh. Josh lets the puppy in, and it makes a valiant attempt to jump up on the too-tall bed. Josh settles him at the end, and he immediately wriggles his way up till he’s between our bodies.
“Yep. Looks like you’ve got another badly behaved male on your hands.”
“What’s one more to add to the list?”
Epilogue Two
Josh
GunnersBarracksisabeautiful place for a wedding. All sandstone and chandeliers and harbour views. No. Don’t get excited. We’re not getting married. Yet. Nick and Lulu are. Although, if we’re being technical, they’re already married.
I finally met Lulu, the woman Will tried to set me up with, when she and Nick arrived back in Sydney a couple of weeks ago for their ‘Australian’ wedding. Baby in tow. And I can see why Will might’ve thought we would be a good match because she’s stunning. Beautiful and vivacious. Talented and funny. A lot like Greer, in fact.
I knew there was something up with Nick that day at the sailing club. Turns out, he and Lulu had already embarked on a secret whirlwind romance. It’s always the quiet ones.
Lulu and Greer hit it off immediately, and along with Lulu’s friend Rosanna, and Nick’s sister Claire, have already formed a tight little posse. Which is no surprise, I guess, all being artists of a sort.
The music starts, and we all turn to watch Lulu walk down the garden. Her dress is a work of art, designed and made for her by Rosanna, who is a costume designer. In a departure from tradition, it’s the colour of crushed raspberries. Nick’s one and only request, apparently. Which was a surprise to me. The Nick I knew back in the day wouldn’t even have noticed the colour of a dress, much less cared. There’s a story there, I suspect, and one day I’ll find out what.
People throw the term glowing around a lot, but Lulu really is. As beautiful as her dress is, it’s her face you notice, alight with love as she walks down the garden towards Nick, who is also, well, glowing. And who is holding the cutest little redheaded baby I’ve ever seen, all kitted out in pale pink satin and tulle. All of which goes to show how much he’s changed. I can identify.
I glance over at Greer, who is simultaneously dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue and beaming from ear to ear. Beyond her is Ben, who for some reason, looks like he’s been hit in the side of the head with a cricket bat. If we were in a cartoon, his eyes would be spinning around in their sockets and musical notes and hearts would be floating out the top of his head. Weird. I’ve never seen that look on him before. But I recognise it from my own face in the mirror. I follow his line of sight. Ahhh. The maid of honour.
Standing next to the raspberry confection that is Lulu, is Rosanna. In a cream satin dress that hugs her fantastic curves. She’s a beautiful woman alright. It’s a shame for Ben, she has a boyfriend.
Their vows are lovely. Funny and heartfelt and mercifully short.
The ceremony ends with cheering and rose petals. Laughing and kissing. The baby, aptly named Isla the Wonderchild, is passed from person to person, giggling, pulling hair and depositing smacking wet kisses on any cheek she can reach. There is so much joy in this garden I almost let out a tear or two myself.
In all the excitement, I take a moment to slip the photographer a fifty to make sure he takes a few special shots of Greer and me. Every now and then, I like to put something up on the @joshlovesgreer account. Gotta keep our fans up to date on what we’re up to. It’s no longer trending, of course, but we still have followers, and Greer gets a laugh out of showing them bits of our life. The G-rated bits.
By the time dinner is over, baby Isla is asleep, bum up, thumb in mouth in her pram in the corner. I’ve been joyfully interrogated by Lulu’s wild-looking father about my grand gesture and survived a lecture from Nick’s mother about Lulu’s inappropriate wedding dress.
Nick and Lulu’s in-laws are about as badly matched as mine and Greer’s will be. When I’m finally allowed to propose. I would’ve done it months ago, but Greer insisted I wait until after Jess and Ethan have had their big day. Once that’s done and dusted, all bets are off and I’m down on one knee.
Nearly a year down the track and we still can’t get enough of each other. Life with Greer has been nothing like I ever expected a relationship to be. No dramas. No angst. And certainly no boredom. Just lots of laughter and the best sex I’ve ever had. Daily.
If you’d told me two years ago I’d be happily settled with the—excuse the corny-ness—love of my life, in a house of my own, I would have laughed. Oh. And a dog. We can’t forget the dog.
