Defiance of the Heart (Book 2)

by Monica James

  The man who stands near Laurence is who I’m presuming is Nix. He looks like a long-haired surfer god. I can only imagine how many heads he has turned. Chloe is one as she ogles him.

  But I can ask him to give me the dirt on London later because right now, it’s time to profess our love.

  London takes his time, weighing up what to say. “I spent all night trying to write the perfect vows, but I just couldn’t. No words I came up with could adequately explain to you how I feel. But I’ll try my best.”

  He smiles, lost in whatever he’s about to say. “I remember the first time I saw you. It was in kindergarten. You were holding a Barbie. Doesn’t sound too unusual, I mean, any five-year-old holding a doll is normal, right? But not your Barbie. You had her dressed in an astronaut suit.” I smirk, remembering how much I loved that doll. Her name was Donna. “I thought that was weird, seeing as all the other girls’ Barbies were dressed in pink.

  “So I asked why your doll was dressed as an astronaut. You looked at me with those big, inquisitive eyes and said because you wanted her to reach the stars. And that’s stuck with me because that’s how I feel when I’m with you. That anything is possible, even reaching the stars.”

  Goddamn, I’m trying my hardest not to cry, but for him to remember this, for him to remember what I said tugs at my heart.

  “By no fault of our own, we were kept apart, and every single moment I was away from you, I felt empty as though my bright star was missing, and I was alone. But standing here now”—he reaches for my hand, squeezing gently—“I know that I won’t feel that again.

  “You are strong. Brave. Stubborn. You are my heart.” I have been able to keep a lid on my emotions thus far, but his honesty is just too much, and I allow the floodgates to open. “And I promise to never break your heart. I look forward to spending every day of the rest of my life with you. And my daughter. Together, we will be a family, and nothing will ever tear us apart. I promise. I love you, Princess. To the stars and back.” Sniffles fill the air as his words are beautiful.

  I’m sure I’ve made a mess of Chloe’s work because my tears are running freely. London smiles, reaching forward, and wipes them away. I lean into his touch.

  “Holland,” Laurence says, hinting it’s my turn. London nods, tracing the back of his finger down my cheek. Taking a steadying breath, I smile.

  Truth be told, I haven’t written anything down nor have I recited what I wanted to say. I just knew that standing here, in front of London, proclaiming my love would allow the words to flow freely.

  “I…” I clear my raspy throat. “I remember that day. When we first met. I thought you were the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. I still think that now.

  “So many misunderstandings have shaped our past, but throughout it all, you’ve always protected me. You sacrificed yourself, time and time again and always put me first. I don’t know many people who can say that with conviction. Regardless of our past, I consider myself so fortunate because I have your love. I always have.

  “You have always, always been the one for me. My love for you grows every single day, and I am so lucky to call you my husband.”

  Even though my eyes are locked with London’s, I notice a small commotion to my right, but I continue. “I promise to be there for you and Emily. You are my family, and I promise to love and protect what’s mine. I love you, London Sinclair-Arrington.”

  The corner of his lips lift in an amused grin. Even though he goes by Sinclair now, I knew him when he was a hyphen, just like me.

  This moment is perfect…but fate has a funny way of proving us wrong.

  “Hi, Daddy. Your dress is so beautiful, Holland.”

  Time moves in what feels like slow motion as we turn to see where that voice came from. What we see…is truly a miracle.

  “Emily.” London gasps, appearing to be in disbelief that she’s really here. And she is. She looks so pretty dressed in a green dress. The nutcracker she holds tightly in her little hand has me holding back yet another teary mess.

  Belle stands behind Emily, hand gently resting on her shoulder. When we lock eyes, she nods once. I never thought a simple gesture could mean so much, but it does.

  Refusing to cry, I wave at Emily, who stands by my mom and dad. “Hi, sweetie. Your dress is so beautiful too.” She grips the hem and twirls happily before running forward and throwing herself in London’s arms. He drops to one knee and presses her to his chest.

  “I missed you, baby.” He inhales, as a certain scent can evoke the strongest emotion within. I can imagine this one is his most favorite of all.

  “I missed you, too.”

  The sight is everything and so much more, and I wipe away a stray tear. Now, everything is perfect. Everything is where it should be.

  Belle smiles proudly while my mom stares at her. I believe this is the first time Mom’s seen her in over ten years. This is the first step to redemption, and it was made possible because of the man I’m about to marry.

  I allow him all the time he needs.

  He kisses Emily’s forehead, then stands. She turns to go back to Belle, but I gently touch her arm. “Would you like to stay up here?” Her gaze bounces back and forth between Belle and me. I hope I haven’t overstepped any boundaries, but when Belle nods, I exhale in relief.

  Emily grins, her rosy cheeks rivaling the brightest sunset.

  London peers at me, and just when I think I’ve done something wrong, he draws in his lips, as if attempting to hold back his tears. “Thank you,” he mouths, holding Emily’s hand.

  Laurence looks down at us with nothing but a genuine smile spreading wide across his lips. Just when I think I’ve got these tears under control, Emily timidly reaches for my hand. The nutcracker sits on the sand beside her. I gasp, feeling the emotional seams slowly coming undone.

  Here we stand as a family with our hands linked, and I’ve never felt happier than I do right now. London and I face each other while Emily stands with her back facing the crowd, holding our hands with pride.

  “Let’s get you married,” Laurence says, asking Chloe and Nix for the rings.

  Chloe’s makeup resembles mine, but there is nothing shameful in opening your heart. I pass Chloe my bouquet. London reaches for my hand while Emily watches on, eyes wide. She has the best view from where she stands.

  “With this ring, I thee wed, and with it, I bestow upon thee all the treasures of my mind, heart, and soul,” London says, repeating after Laurence as he slips the white gold band onto my finger.

  I can’t help but marvel at it. It’s perfect.

  When it’s my turn, my trembling fingers alert London to my nerves, but the moment I slip the matching ring onto his finger, the noise calms because this vision cements what we just did. The white gold contrasts his tanned skin. It was made for him, just as we were made for one another.

  As the sun begins to set, my heart flutters, and my soul comes alive. The sun has settled in, allowing the sparkle of the moon to light our path. “You may have kissed a thousand times, but today is new. You are no longer simply partners because you have just become husband and wife. So, let’s seal the agreement with a kiss. You may kiss the bride.”

  London doesn’t need to be told twice as he swoops forward and presses his lips to mine.

  We kiss, but Laurence is right. This does feel different as our love, our forever love, has just been sealed with a kiss—our first, at sunset, as husband and wife.

  There are wolf whistles and howling catcalls, alerting me to the fact that a lot of people have just witnessed us getting married. I didn’t even notice because the entire ceremony was spent looking at London.

  Chuckling, I pull away, wiping at my lips bashfully. London laughs, clutching my hand in his. When we look out at the masses, I see that the small crowd has actually turned into a group of about fifty.

  When I peer into the distance, I’m certain I see a figure watching us. The person looks familiar but is gone before I can question it. I soon forge
t about my mystery stranger because the faces of other strangers all display happiness and love as they hurry over to congratulate us. It’s a crazy rush, but London and I are on cloud nine, thankful for their kind words. Emily’s hand is fastened in London’s. She seems happy to be a part of something magical.

  My parents warily walk over, and I instantly hug my mom. She looks so beautiful in her silver gown. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Oh, sweetie. The ceremony was beautiful. You were glowing.” I don’t remember ever hugging her this tight, but I promise myself it’ll be the first of many.

  Breaking apart, I decide to lay all my cards on the table. “You being here means so much to me. I know how difficult it must have been—”

  “Not being here was far more difficult,” my mom interrupts. “It’s very clear…London,”—she still clearly has issues saying his name—“loves you. And anyone who loves you is someone your father and I are willing to accept into our lives.”

  I never thought I’d hear the words, but hearing them now, they are far sweeter than I ever expected them to be.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, sniffing back my tears.

  London has listened and given us the time we need, but now it’s time to mend bridges. “Thank you for coming. It means the world to us.”

  We’re not expecting to be one big happy family come nightfall, but this is progress.

  My mom looks down at Emily who holds her nutcracker with pride. “Hello,” she says, dropping to a crouch. “My name is Delores. I’m Holland’s mom.” It can’t be helped. I can see my mom comparing the similarities between Emily and Lincoln. But soon enough, she will view her with new eyes and see her for the unique individual that she is.

  “Hi, I’m Emily. This is Charlie.” She holds up the nutcracker. “Holland bought him for me when she took me to the ballet.”

  “Did she now? Did she tell you when she was your age, she always wanted to be a ballerina?”

  Emily spins to look at me, eyes wide. I can’t help but laugh at her reaction.

  “Too bad she has two left feet.” A grunt leaves London when I elbow him in the ribs.

  When my father’s lips twitch, I almost prove London’s theory correct as I stumble a fraction to the left.

  “Mommy!” My mom instantly looks up and comes to a slow stand when Belle nervously approaches. “Did you know Holland wanted to be a ballerina, just like me?”

  Belle obviously hasn’t told Emily she and I were once best friends because she already knows this information firsthand. And that’s okay. She will do so in her own time. Her being here is enough for now.

  “Hello, Mr. Ferris. Ms. Brooks.” London and I watch on because it’s taken balls for Belle to say hello to my parents.

  She waits, understanding that this is awkward and if they don’t want to reciprocate, she seems fine with that outcome. But I know my parents. They aren’t innocent in this. None of us are. “Hello, Belle. Your daughter is beautiful.”

  “She is,” Belle replies, stroking Emily’s hair.

  There is a moment of silence, but it’s not awkward; rather, it’s reflective of what we’ve all experienced in the past ten years.

  “Let’s go say hi to Sienna,” my mom finally says, understanding Belle and I need a moment alone. “It was nice seeing you, Belle.”

  Tears well, but she holds it together. “You too.” My parents make a beeline for Chloe and her mom, leaving us alone.

  “Daddy, it’s Jesse, our neighbor, and his mom. Can I go play with him?” Emily interlaces her fingers while I look at who she is referring to.

  Jesse turns out to be a cute little dude who seems to have a thing for our beautiful ballerina. He waves eagerly, and his Jack Russell yaps happily as well. London doesn’t share the sentiment however.

  When he folds his arms across his chest, eyeballing Jesse, I burst into laughter. Protective father mode is put into overdrive, but he eventually caves. “Fine, but he’s not coming over to watch TV again. He has his own TV.”

  Emily giggles, hugging his legs. “Thanks, Daddy! Bye, Mommy. Bye, Holland.” She bounces off, none the wiser her father is about to burst a blood vessel. It’s true love as they hug, but I dare not tell London that.

  “The wedding was really beautiful. I’m”—Belle takes a deep breath—“I’m really happy for you both.”

  Her confession has us focusing on the magnitude of her being here. “Thank you for coming.”

  Belle nods, clearly uncomfortable as she digs at the sand with her toe. “You’re right, Holland. I do owe you. I owe you both.” She looks at London, biting her lip. “I will do what you asked, but I’ll do it my way.”

  There is no need to ruin a perfect day by saying his name. “If he doesn’t agree to my terms, then I will threaten to take him to court and force him to take the paternity test. He won’t want that as it’ll tarnish his precious name,” she says bitterly. “I will reach an agreement with him. I won’t make him pay the years of child support he owes if he gives up…”

  We don’t need her to spell it out. What we all want is clear. I hate to use the word blackmail, but that’s what Belle intends to do.

  I was proposing to do this the right way, by the law, but Belle seems to have other plans. Could it be her revenge for all the shit he’s put her through over the years? That’s her prerogative, and I’m certainly not one to judge. Whatever rids this asshole from our lives works for me.

  “Thank you, Belle.” It’s London who speaks as he wraps an arm around me.

  Belle nods once, but her hurt can be seen as she’s once again come in second best. “It’s the least I can do.”

  There is nothing left to say.

  She steps forward, stands on tippy toes, and places a soft kiss to London’s cheek. There is nothing romantic about it, and if I was honest, it seems like a kiss goodbye. “I’m glad you’re finally happy, London.”

  She hurriedly pulls away, while London stands rigid. The tears in her eyes can’t be hidden even under the cloak of dusk. She discreetly wipes them away, looking for Emily, who is happily playing with Jesse.

  It’s not London’s night to have Emily, but it’s evident she is quite content where she is. “You can leave her here,” I suggest nervously, as I have no idea how this is going to go down. I don’t want to step on Belle’s toes.

  She looks at London who nods. He tightens his hold around me. “Okay, thanks. She seems to be having fun with Jesse anyway.”

  “Don’t remind me,” London utters, exhaling loudly, breaking the ice.

  Belle seems to want to say something, but she eventually walks away, leaving us with a new sense of hope. When we can no longer see her, London draws me to his chest. We stay quiet, needing the calm to clear our heads.

  “Hello, wife,” he eventually whispers, my skin responding in tiny goose bumps.

  “Hello, husband,” I reply, savoring his scent. It should feel weird to refer to him this way, but it doesn’t.

  “So, it looks like our wedding night is going to be spent watching Disney with fucking Jesse.” I burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  “It’s okay. The anticipation is half the fun. Besides, I don’t want you getting bored.”

  He holds me out at arm’s length, arching a brow. “Bored? With you? I don’t think so.” He leans in close, skimming the shell of my ear with his sinful lips. “It’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to throw you over my shoulder and strip you out of that dress. You look beautiful.”

  My body warms with the thought.

  An accidental hum escapes me, and London growls low. “We have plenty of time to do that…on our honeymoon.”

  “What?” I almost give myself whiplash as I yank back to look at him. “Honeymoon?”

  He nods, a smirk tugging at his bow lips, but he doesn’t divulge what or when or how.

  We agreed to take a honeymoon when shit settled, but it looks like London had other plans. I attempt to ask more, but he places his finger to my lips. “The anticipa
tion is half the fun.”

  I really don’t have a comeback as he’s used my words as ammunition.

  A giddy ball of excitement wells within because the prospect of going away with London, on our honeymoon nonetheless, is exciting. I begin to speculate where we’re going and if clothes are optional.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, Princess, don’t stop.” I melt into a pool of goo as he kisses my lips.

  If this is what married life entails, bring it on.

  However, when Emily screams, “Daddy, can Jesse come over and watch TV?” and London comically curses, I know that married life comes in all different shapes and sizes…and I can’t wait to experience it all.

  “Just a few more steps,” says the husky voice of my husband of two days. I trust him completely because I’m blindfolded, but I went into this with eyes wide open.

  Two days ago, I married the man of my dreams, and it was everything and so much more. Once we put Jesse and Emily to sleep—Emily asked to have a sleepover, much to the dismay of London—we walked into our bedroom, absorbing everything that just happened.

  We really did it. We got married. I became a Sinclair-Arrington. I asked London why he didn’t go by his father’s surname, and he said it was because he’s been a Sinclair for as long as he can remember. Besides, his father was fine with it, or so London said he was. He probably couldn’t be bothered with dealing with his privileged wife.

  I’m still undecided whether I will change my surname, and London is okay with that. Like my mother, I’m proud of my roots. They shaped me into the person I am, and I don’t take that lightly. Besides, I don’t know how I feel being called Ms. Sinclair. There is already one of them, and I don’t like being reminded that we share the same name. Besides, legally, I would be Holland Brooks-Ferris-Sinclair-Arrington. What a mouthful!

  Early this morning, London woke me up, showering my body with kisses. Once he was done ensuring every single inch was well loved, he told me to pack a bag. I didn’t ask questions, too excited at the prospect of leaving my troubles behind.