Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) Tara Wyatt (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📖

of the Duane Reade on the corner that they’d just passed, completely ignoring them. “I want you to know that if it does, I’m not going anywhere. No fucking way. I would be there for every single treatment. Every single appointment. Every single test. Not only that, but I’d make sure you had the absolute best of everything—doctors, treatments, hospitals. Whatever you needed would be yours, and I’d be there right beside you the entire way. I’m not some punk ass twenty-three year old who’d bail on you when things get hard. I’d be there, Willa. I promise.”

She arched up onto her toes and pulled him to her for a long, sweet kiss. The city buzzed and hummed around them, matching the vibration in Max’s blood at the feeling of Willa’s mouth, her body pressed to his. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with emotion, and she stroked her fingers over his cheek.

“I don’t think you know what that means to me.” She sighed and they continued walking. “The fear is always there, way in the back of my mind. Not just that the cancer will come back, but that it’ll drive away people I care about if it does.”

“Anyone who’d bail on you because you got sick and that was inconvenient for them doesn’t deserve you in their life, angel.”

She squeezed his hand and looked up at him. “I love you, Max.”

He pulled her into his side and kissed the top of her head. “Love you, Willa.”

The idea of her getting sick again was terrifying. It made his stomach heave and cold sweat prickle along his hairline. But he was telling her the truth. If they ever had to face that, he’d be right there, by her side, looking after her.

And if he ever met the guy who’d bailed on Willa six years ago, he’d probably punch him in the face.

“Tell me about your brother,” he said, leaving his arm around her.

“Elliott’s three years older than me and lives in Brooklyn, where he makes custom furniture. He’s also dating my friend Brandon right now, which is a little weird for me. They’re so, so different that I kind of keep expecting them to break up, but they’ve been dating for weeks now and it seems to be going well, so…” She shrugged. “Elliott has always been kind of a lone wolf. He’s quiet and can come off as standoffish, but really he’s just kind of shy and doesn’t people well.”

“And Brandon?”

“Lauren, Kayla, and I have been friends with him since college. He’s an aspiring writer who works at Saks. Max, I read his book and it was so beautiful. I cried so many times while reading it, not just because of the story, but because I was so proud of him and what he’d achieved. He just signed with an agent and they’re getting the book ready to submit to publishers, so it’s all very exciting.”

As they walked the remaining couple of blocks to the pub where they were meeting Elliott and Brandon, Max couldn’t help but feel that today was a gift, and not just because it was a gorgeous May day in Manhattan, with the sun shining and a light breeze blowing and the city alive and vibrant around them. Willa was letting him into her life—taking him volunteering, introducing him to her brother and her close friend.

The pub was on the corner of 1st Ave and East 63rd, and they were greeted by the welcoming smells of French fries, searing meat, and beer as they stepped inside. The pub was brightly lit, with large windows that looked out onto East 63rd, giving everyone a view of the steady stream of pedestrians and traffic. An impressive bar lined the wall to the left, heavily stocked with bottles of Jamieson and decorated with little Irish flags and Guinness logos. Booths sat tucked against the opposite wall, separated from each other with dark wood dividers topped with shamrock green glass. The atmosphere was casual and homey with a soccer game playing on the TV above the bar. It was nearly full with the lunch crowd, the sounds of conversation and clinking dishes mingling with the rock music playing from the speakers.

Weaving their way through the pub, they found Elliott and Brandon already seated in a corner booth at the back, where it was a bit quieter. When they spotted them, the man Max assumed was Elliott slid out of the booth and pulled Willa in for a hug. He could see the family resemblance between them. They had the same shade of light brown hair with subtle bits of gold mixed in, the same enormous hazel eyes. Apparently Elliott had gotten all of the height in the family, though, because he was nearly as tall as Max, towering over Willa.

“Elliott, this is my boyfriend, Max Prescott. Max, my brother Elliott and his boyfriend—and my good friend—Brandon Abrams.”

Max shook both of their hands and could already see what Willa meant about the two of them being very, very different. Where Elliott was dressed in a gray Henley and worn jeans, Brandon was wearing a silk shirt with a busy blue and white print on it. A beer sat in front of Elliott, while Brandon sipped on some kind of brightly colored cocktail. Elliott’s hair was short where Brandon’s was longer and meticulously styled on top of his head.

“Okay, I can see why you were losing your mind over this man,” said Brandon, giving Max a thorough once over. “Good for you, honey.”

Willa’s face turned the most adorable shade of red and she cleared her throat. “I’m just going to go use the ladies’ room. If the server comes, order me a Coke, okay?”

Max nodded and slid into the booth opposite Elliott and Brandon, two pairs of eyes locked on him.

“So,” said Elliott, taking a sip of his beer and then crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re Willa’s boss.”

Ah. So it was time for the brotherly interrogation. Fine.

He