She danced impatiently. “Mommy, what are you waiting for?!”
And just like that, my greediness vanished. Taking Luke’s last name didn’t mean she wouldn’t be my baby girl anymore. She would always play that role in my eyes. Even after she graduated and had kids of her own.
“Sorry sweets, let’s get this party rolling.” I pushed open the door and gasped. “Holy shit.”
“You said a bad word.”
Norma Jean’s wasn’t a construction zone anymore. Yes, the walls needed a coat of paint, but the crown molding flanked the room seamlessly. Matthew had managed to match the existing wood like he said he would. Along with having a voice of an angel, he was an incredible craftsman. Whoever managed to peg him down would be a lucky lady.
Camille came up behind me, stopping in her tracks like I did. Hard not to. Luke had managed to polish the house into a flawless work of art.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” My voice dripped with awe. “Matthew and Luke should own a construction company. They are a dynamo team.”
Camille shrugged. “I guess..”
Glancing to my left, I saw she wore a discernible expression. To my understanding, Camille and Matthew hadn’t met before, but she acted like they had a torrid past.
“I’m confused,” I said. “Do you know each other?”
Her eyes cleared of whatever had been bugging her. She smoothed her face into a mask of utter innocence. Best friends since elementary school, I saw beneath the cracks. Matthew wasn’t a stranger. Somehow, somewhere, they’d crossed paths. Nevertheless, my lips remained sealed. Camille had a right to stuff as many skeletons in her closet as she liked.
“Forget it. Where is my handsome husband?”
“The dining room.” Camille glanced toward the archway then morphed into wedding planner. “Wait for your signal. Nil will go first then me and Matthew….”
“Then the bride.”
She nodded. “Then the bride, along with your father and mother. They wanted to walk you down the aisle together.”
“You are the Best Thing” by Ray LaMontagne blasted over the speakers. The song that Luke had serenaded to me in the vacant art gallery as we’d danced cheek to cheek, his heartbeat matching mine.
Camille grinned. “Showtime!”
My grandmother handed me a bouquet of wild flowers wrapped together with a silk ribbon. “I’m so proud of you.”
Another round of tears welled. I blinked quickly so that my makeup stayed in tact. She grabbed Nil’s hand and led her to the archway that went into the dining room. They followed behind Camille and Matthew as they sauntered down the aisle first.
My father rounded the bend on the heels of my mother. His salt and pepper hair fell across his forehead in a hairstyle he has had since the nineteen nineties. Round spectacles were perched on the bridge of his nose.
“We are here!” My mother shot a glance over her shoulder at my father. “There was a slight incident with the tie.”
“I spilled wine on it,” my father confessed. “But stains are no match for your mother’s super powers.”
The song was thirty seconds in. Right now really wasn’t the moment to discuss anything. I ushered my parents to stand on opposite sides of me.
As my dad took my arm, he leaned down. “Luke is a lucky man. He may be the rock star but in my eyes, you are the rock star.”
Touched, I squeezed his upper forearm. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“You ready?”
I squared my shoulders back. “More than anything.”
“I, Luke, take you, Marlene, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.”
Beaming, Luke stroked my palm with his thumb. I recited the same vows without hesitation, overflowing with love for him.
“You may kiss the bride!”
The audience roared with applause as Luke and I shared our first kiss as a married couple. We floated toward the exit on a cloud of bliss.
The reception was done rustic style with one long table spanned from the fireplace to the archway. Bell jars held bouquets of flowers while tea lights flickered against the stucco walls. A cowbell chimed, announcing dinner was ready. The guests found their assigned seats and talked as they sat next to new and old friends alike.
Matthew and Camille conveniently ended up across from each other. I watched them avoid eye contact, but they were unable to do so for long. Their chemistry crackled in the air. They should sneak into a closet and rid themselves of the tension. Sex was a one step problem solver.
“Isn’t that right, Marlene?”
Pulled from my thoughts, Luke stared at me with a wicked grin, aware that my attention had been diverted. Bastard. My great aunt waited for an answer to her question.
“Yes, that is correct,” I replied smoothly.
Obviously, it was the wrong answer because she blanched and sharply turned her chin away.
Lowering my voice, my palm smacked Luke’s knee. “What the hell?”
“She wanted to know if we were planning to raise our kids Catholic. I told her that you didn’t want to.”
“You made me a sinner in her eyes.”
“That’s ok.” His mouth brushed my ear. “I like sinners.”
“Of course you do. You are a sinner yourself.
“Damn right and a proud one too.”
A smile broke free as I looked at my husband. Husband. The word felt like chocolate silk on my tongue, luxurious. The first course of baked mac and cheese bites was presented on white china plates. Our guests fell silent as they dug in. Sharp cheddar mixed with goat cheese added a pleasant tang. By tomorrow, my pants wouldn’t be able to fit, but you only get married once. At least, that’s the hope.
The contentment lasted until a frazzled waiter bustled into the dining room. His black pants cuffed at the ankles were stained with water. His eyes were as big as saucers. He didn’t seem as if he was rushing to deliver good news. I mentally braced myself for whatever catastrophe awaited me.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner, Mrs. and Mr. Anderson, but there is a situation in the kitchen,” the waiter said.
Luke’s mouth thinned. “What kind of situation? Not enough mushroom caps situation or the oven broke and there is twenty pounds of food that can’t be cooked situation?”
The waiter grimaced. “Worse.”
“Worse?” I echoed.
“Yes, Ma’am.” His hazel eyes churned with fright. “A pipe broke and if we don’t stop the water soon, the house is going to flood.”
“Shit,” Luke and I said at the same time.
We excused ourselves from the dining room table. Luke, having longer legs, beat me to the entrance of the kitchen. He uttered a string of curse words that would make a priest’s ears bleed. I peeked around his shoulder and gasped. The kitchen staff was all hands on deck of the sinking ship. No, that wasn’t a pun. It was literally a sinking ship; three inches of water had accumulated and was rising fast. The young waiter hovered behind Luke and me, biting his fingernails. Luke whistled loudly to catch the catering staff’s attention. They froze in action, panic etched onto their faces.
“Listen up,” Luke boomed. “Move the prepared food to the front of the house. I’ll turn the main water valve off and call a plumber.” He glanced at our caterer, Lacy, who held a large bucket. “Is there any way to salvage the dinner?”
“We prep the ingredients in advance, but without a stove, you are looking at raw meat and cold mashed sweet potatoes. Although, we can serve the rolls with whipped honey butter.”
“Mac and cheese and rolls are a carb fest, not a gourmet feast,” I mumbled.
While the busted pipe wasn’t anybody’s fault, the old plumbing could have waited until tomorrow to crap out on us. Luke had planned our special night so that there wouldn’t be any stress involved. However, it seemed as if stress followed us around like a stray dog
. My foot itched to kick an inanimate object hard and with great conviction.
He spun around and faced me, dejected as I was. “I’m sorry. Everybody warned me about buying a fixer upper but I didn’t listen.”
Luke had managed to throw a picture perfect wedding. It was up to me to salvage it. Putting a hold on the pity party, I racked my brain for a Plan B. Water soaked the hem of my wedding dress. First things first, though.
“You need to shut the valve off,” I said to Luke. “Like, now.”
A trickle of water ran into the hallway from the kitchen. If we didn’t hurry, the whole house was in danger of some serious damage. Damage that we couldn’t afford. Luke hightailed it to the basement while I returned to the dining room. The guests, none the wiser, were enjoying glasses of mahogany colored wine. Reviews were mixed on whether you could enjoy alcohol during pregnancy. I leaned toward the cautious side but the urge was especially strong tonight.
Camille, her gaze bright with interest, mouthed. “What’s wrong?”
It wasn’t her problem, but being the maid of honor, this kind of fell into her role of duties. Not really, but in times of peril, every man counted. I jerked my head toward the hallway. Getting my message, she rose from her seat and followed me away from prying ears.
“Those mac and cheese bites better have fulfilled your hunger because there is a busted pipe in the kitchen,” I said as she stepped into the hallway.
“No!”
Her horror somehow made me feel marginally better. “Yes. Luke is turning off the water valve as we speak but without an oven, our caterer can’t cook anything. There are fifteen people waiting for steak and brown butter whipped sweet potatoes.”
“Damn, that sounds good.”
“I know. Yesterday, I had an out of control hankering for meat. The only thing that got me through the night was visualizing a steak.”
Camille snickered. “That’s what she said.”
Rolling my eyes, frustration nipped at my nerves. “Camille….”
“Sorry!” she said, clearly the opposite of apologetic. “Why don’t you order a pizza? Go gourmet with the toppings and throw in an order or two of salad.”
“Isn’t that tacky?”
“Only if its Domino’s.”
Mulling over her idea, it wasn’t half bad. Luke had gone low key with the reception and dress code, which meant the food could be laid back as well.
“Where I would get gourmet pizza though that delivers?” I asked.
“You need pizza?”
I jumped at the sound of Matthew’s voice. He’d snuck up on Camille and I with the skills of a ninja. He looked at me with concern as I placed my hand on my racing heartbeat.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you but I overheard the word pizza.”
Camille sneered. “So? That doesn’t give you free range to interrupt a conversation.”
Ignoring her attitude, he flashed her a panty-dropping grin. “Pizza is a subject I’m an expert on. Thought you might need my help.”
“We don’t actually….”
Whatever Camille’s problem was, it had to be tucked into a drawer. I cut her off. “Do you have any pizza connections?”
“I do. My old buddy owns Pies for Miles. It was voted the best pizza in Seattle, in case that matters.”
“It does. Can you order eight pizzas? You choose the toppings.”
“You got it.”
With that off my shoulders, the stress bearing down on me, eased. “Thank God for that man,” I said to Camille as he walked outside to make the phone call.
She looked after Matthew with a pensive expression as if he was a mystery she couldn’t solve.
Luke and I were supposed to be on a plane to Paris right about now. Instead, we were mopping the kitchen floors while a small portable radio blared pop music. Nevertheless what mattered was that our guests had gone home fat and happy. On the way out the door, some even praised us on going non-traditional. Food wise, the disaster turned into a blessing in disguise.
Luke swiped at his brow. “Is it weird that I’m hungry again?”
“You didn’t eat much.”
You would think eight extra large pizzas would serve fifteen people, but our guests had bigger appetites than we realized. Luke and I managed to grab a slice each while everybody else got three. My stomach grumbled loudly, evidence we were in desperate need of a real meal. Luke chuckled while a blush heated my cheeks. While pregnant, you could forget about being a lady. The sounds your body makes borderlines on unnatural.
He propped the mop against the wall. “Go sit. I’ll make us something.”
Looking around the water logged room, the hours of work we had in front of us added up like dollar signs. The plumber wasn’t due to come in until tomorrow morning but I had a feeling that whatever news he delivered, it wouldn’t be kind to our wallets. The dream of eating croissants in Paris floated further and further away. Sighing, I hoped onto the metal island while Luke investigated our options in the fridge.
“We have raw steak, cold mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and rolls,” he said.
“The last three sound fine. I’m past the point of caring whether food is warm or not. The baby is demanding a meal of any sort.”
Luke piled the stack of containers onto the island and popped off the lids. Sixteen Candles style, we sat crossed legged on the island, facing each other. Although the air smelled like damp mold and there wasn’t a birthday cake between us, it was just as romantic.
“I’ve been dying to know how you pulled this whole thing off.” I pointed a floppy carrot at him. “You have the skills of a secret agent, Sir.”
Laughing, Luke shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard. Your grandma and mom handled the logistics while Lacy managed to squeeze us into her calendar. If it was up to me, I would’ve married you two weeks ago, but I was told multiple times by multiple frantic women that wasn’t feasible.”
“And the house? It looks incredible.”
“I offered to double Hendro’s bonus if he got the downstairs in working order. The upstairs is still a mess of wires and exposed walls.”
He relayed this information with a nonchalant tone as if it wasn’t a huge deal that he orchestrated a wedding in a mere twenty days. My heart burst at the seams with love.
I gazed at his handsome face. “You need to learn how to take credit when credit is due.”
Luke smirked. “Only if I get a kiss.”
Leaning across the table, I planted my mouth against his. He tangled his fingers into my hair, deepening the kiss and sending a heady need to course through my body. Luke had the unique ability set me on the edge with a simple caress. It was the way he did it with such breathtaking gentleness, yet unbridled passion.
Pulling back ever so slightly, his hands moved to my waist. As we locked eyes, restraint glimmered in his gaze. “You deserve more on your wedding night than getting fucked on the island of a kitchen. You deserve champagne, rose petals, the whole nine yards.”
I cupped his cheek. “That’s a sweet sentiment but frankly I don’t care where we have sex as long as you’re naked and between my legs.”
Luke’s eyes darkened to a navy blue. “Is that so?”
I nodded.
“Then lie down and take off your underwear.”
“I’m not wearing any.”
A growl escaped his lips as his willpower unraveled, exactly what I wanted to happen. Since finding out about our unborn child, Luke had been extra gentle during sex. While that was all fine and dandy, I missed the sensation of him filling me to the very brim until my lungs begged for air. Complying with his orders, the cold metal met my bare thighs as I bunched my wedding dress around my waist. Luke bore down upon me as his heated gaze caused anticipation to flutter in my lower stomach. I snagged my lip between my teeth, waiting for him to speak.
“I’m going to take my time with you until you’re begging for release.” Luke’s velvet coated voice teased my nipples to a peak.
Stayi
ng true to his promise, his finger dipped inside me and before I could gasp, a second finger was added. My back arched off the table as Luke’s thumb kneaded my pulsing clit. He swallowed my moans of pleasure. A fierce and furious need built, lifting me the very heavens. As I was about to tip over the edge, Luke’s touched ceased. A thousand curse words were on the tip of my tongue. The look in his eyes killed them in their wake. I wasn’t the one in charge. He was and he would do with me as he saw fit. Luke continued his relentless assault with his tongue and hands, bringing me to the brink and back again. By the time his hard thickness got positioned between my thighs, I was delusional with desire. Pinning my hands above my head, Luke took no mercy. He thrust, hard and deep in one single stroke that stole the air from my lungs.
“Is that you want baby?” Luke pulled out and thrust again. “Tell me. Is that what you want?”
“Yes! Don’t stop.”
Finally, the orgasm I’d been chasing crashed down upon me. I cried out and threw my head backwards as tremors racked my body.
My hands smoothed my dress to its former state. “This is defiantly the weirdest place we have had sex.”
“You don’t remember Halloween of 2010?”
I frowned slightly; attempting to latch onto the memory he was referring to. When I did, a laugh bubbled free.
“That’s right. We had sex against that old creepy tree in the cemetery.”
“It ripped your dress.”
“And my stockings.”
“And your underwear.”
“YOU ripped my underwear.”
Luke flashed me a wicked grin. “I know.” Playfully swatting his chest, he grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I’m glad to see our sense of adventure hasn’t died in our old age.”
“We are in our twenties—hardly old.”
“Speak for yourself. When I get up in the morning, my knees creek.”
“Well, for an old man you are a fantastic lover.”
Our food sat on the island, untouched. What a shame. I grabbed the container of vegetables and dug in. They were lightly seasoned with salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon. Surprisingly delicious, even cold.
To Cherish and To Hold (Love of a Rockstar #1.5) Page 7