by Holly Rayner
“You have taught me how to find the joy in life and how to love. You are my best friend in the entire world.”
“Yes, Andreas,” she said, nodding her head.
I smiled and held up a finger. “Be patient.”
She laughed, tears running down her cheeks.
“You are my best friend in the entire world, and I would love nothing more than to spend every day of the rest of my life with you. Would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”
She wiped away her tears, though they were coming so fast now, it didn’t matter. “Yes, of course I will. Yes!”
Epilogue
One Year Later: Maxine
The cake was too tall to fit through the front door, so I asked the delivery guy to take it around back. I was still getting to grips with the Greek language, but I felt pretty confident I’d said everything correctly, so I couldn’t understand why he was staring at me like I’d just offended his ancestors.
I called Andreas and repeated what I’d said to the delivery man.
“You told the poor guy you want the cake up his butt,” he said, laughing so hard he was snorting into the phone. “Put him on the phone; I’ll sort it out.”
I handed the phone to the delivery guy, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment, and walked back into the kitchen.
“Everything is going perfectly, Max, so please don’t panic,” Katie said, pinning flowers in her daughter Maizie’s hair. “I put enough flowers in here that no one will ever know your flower girl cut her own hair three hours before your wedding ceremony.”
Three hours before my wedding. I took a deep breath and dropped down onto one of the bar stools around the kitchen island.
“Come on, girl, chill out,” Katie said, sending Maizie upstairs to find her brother. “You opened this bed and breakfast while taking care of an infant. Getting married will be a piece of cake.”
“Oh, the cake!” I said, jumping up and running to the back door.
I’d forgotten all about the cake debacle, but Andreas must have sorted everything out because when I opened the back door, the delivery man was coming around the corner of the B&B, my wedding cake balanced in his arms. I helped him load it into the industrial-sized fridge in the storage room and then reclaimed my seat at the island.
“Listen to me,” Katie said, apparently still able to see the strain and stress written all over my face. “If everything goes wrong today—”
“Gee, thanks Katie,” I said, interrupting her.
“Listen to me,” she commanded, narrowing her eyes at me. “If everything goes wrong today—if the cake collapses and your dress rips and it rains during the vows and Theo poops in his tuxedo—will you still wish you got married?”
I didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course.”
“Then, don’t stress,” she said. “You are marrying the man you love, the father of your son. Today should be the happiest day of your life. Enjoy it.”
So, I did my best to do just that.
Andreas had offered to buy me the best hairstylists and makeup artists on the island, but I’d refused, deciding I’d much rather do my own hair and makeup and look like myself on my wedding day. I wrapped strands of my hair around a curling iron until my blond hair was nothing but long, beachy waves. I dabbed rosy blush on the apples of my cheeks, swiped on black mascara, and wore Andreas’ favorite shade of pink lipstick.
Then, I stepped into my wedding dress.
It was the one thing I’d allowed Andreas to splurge on. It was a strapless white dress with a trumpet silhouette that clung to my body and then flared out at my knees. A layer of lace rested over the bodice, with crystals sewn into the delicate fabric. I felt like a princess.
“You’re basically a princess now, right?”
I turned to find Katie leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, smiling broadly.
“He isn’t royalty, Katie. His family was royal once, but he was never in line for any throne.”
“Like that matters?” she said, rolling her eyes. “You are way closer to being a princess than most girls will ever get, so just accept the compliment.”
Just then, the nanny, Noura, came in, carrying Theo in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” she said, doing her best to hold on to my squirmy one-year-old. “I’m trying to get him down for his nap, but he just keeps screaming for his mama.”
I laughed and held my hands out to him. Theo practically leapt into my arms and nuzzled his head against my shoulder.
“You have to nap if you’re going to be ready for the wedding,” I whispered into his curly blond hair. He got his hair color from me, but had the same heart-melting, caramel-brown eyes as his father.
He pulled back and smiled at me with his two bottom teeth. “Mamamama.”
“Mama” was my baby’s favorite word, so he often liked to string it together into long sentences. Andreas was more than a little jealous that he hadn’t taken a liking to “Papa” yet.
Eventually, I rocked him to sleep and handed him back to Noura, who whisked him away to one of the guest rooms so he could finish his nap before the ceremony.
The next two hours passed in a flurry of last minute details—bouquet, photographs, makeup touch-ups, putting down a rug in front of the bed and breakfast door so that I wouldn’t lose a heel in the mud puddle that had formed in front of it overnight.
“Are you ready?” Katie asked, squeezing my fingers.
I nodded. I was ready. More than ready, while also feeling like I could pass out at any moment. I hadn’t seen Andreas all day because he’d insisted it was bad luck to see each other on the wedding day, and any day when I didn’t get to see him felt a little off to me. So, I was beyond excited to finally step out of the front door of the bed and breakfast and walk down the hill to our ceremony on the beach.
The orchestra started up, playing the song Andreas and I had heard after we’d ridden the donkeys to the top of the mountain to eat lunch, and Katie gave me one last hug and then walked out the door. A few moments later, it was my turn.
The door opened and the small crowd of friends that were gathered in the sand below stood up and turned towards me, but I didn’t even notice them. My eyes were locked on Andreas.
He was standing under a canopy of peonies and hydrangeas, the deep blue water of the Aegean behind him, and I knew in that moment that I was marrying the most handsome man in the world. Andreas cut a fine figure in his tan linen suit. His white shirt was unbuttoned a little, showing off a flash of his tan chest, and his sleeves were rolled up to the middle of his forearms. He’d gelled his hair back into place, but it still had the beachy wave I loved, and I relished the idea of a lifetime of getting to run my fingers through it.
When I finally made it down the aisle, he grabbed my hands, and we vowed to love each other forever. Through good times and bad times. In sickness and in health. For richer, for poorer.
On that last one, I gave his fingers a special squeeze. I meant it. I loved him now, and I’d love him if we lived in a cave by the sea. No amount of money would ever change my feelings for him, and I wanted him to know it. He smiled at me and winked, and I knew he trusted me.
He tipped me backwards for the kiss and hooked my leg around his torso. The crowd clapped and cheered and blew bubbles as we ran down the aisle and up the hill towards the bed and breakfast.
String lights hung from the roof of the B&B to the trees in the backyard, and a dance floor with tables and chairs around it had been set up in the grass. Large bouquets of peonies filled every table. It was beautiful, but we ran right past it. Andreas had a tight hold of my hand and he pulled me across the grass until we were hidden by the trees, cool in the dark shade.
“Are you trying to make me late for my own wedding reception?” I asked, reaching up to run my finger along the exposed skin of his chest.
He pushed me back until my spine was pressed against a tree trunk and placed his hands on either side of my head. “Maybe.”
He bent down and kissed along my collarbone and my shoulder, up my neck and across my earlobe. I ran my fingers along the backs of his arms and smiled every time I remembered he was my husband. After a while, I heard the music from the party drift up to us and I pushed on Andreas’ chest.
“We’ll have to resume this later tonight,” I said, stretching up on my tiptoes to kiss his pouty mouth. “The party is starting without us.”
“Let it start,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of the party and planting another kiss on my lips.
“Theo has been excited to see you all day,” I said.
Immediately, Andreas grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the trees.
“I miss him so much. He did such a good job as the ring bearer during the ceremony.”
I knew that mentioning our baby would get him to moving toward the reception. Andreas had stayed in his old villa at the resort the night before the wedding to be sure we wouldn’t see each other at all before the wedding, but it meant he hadn’t seen Theo all day.
Before we even made it to the reception, I could see Theo thrashing in Noura’s arms. He could see us walking through the grass and he was desperate to get to us. We waved at him and blew kisses, but still he thrashed. Finally, Noura sat him down in the grass, tired of being kicked in the ribs by a squirmy one-year-old.
Andreas knelt in the grass a few feet away from him, arms wide. “Come to Papa, Theo. Come to Papa.”
“Mama!”
Andreas laughed and shook his head. “No, come to Papa. Papa.”
“Mamamama.”
“You stubborn boy,” Andreas said, laughing harder.
Theo lifted himself up to a standing position, and then, for the first time, he took a step.
Everyone watching gasped as he took a second step and then a third until he was safely in the arms of his papa.
“Way to go, son,” Andreas said, nestling him into his neck and kissing his cheek. “Your first steps!”
I ran my fingers through my little boy’s hair, happy tears streaming down my cheeks.
Katie held up her phone and waved it wildly in the air. “You’re welcome, Max. I just got that wonderful moment on camera!”
“You have to send me that video!” I said, laughing.
“I’m sending it to everyone,” she said. “It was adorable!”
She winked at me and then disappeared to go find Greg, who was already making a move towards the dance floor. They were living together in Madison, now, but Andreas flew them out once every couple months in his private jet, so there was no need for me to find “an island best friend,” as Katie liked to call it.
Truly, I didn’t want for anything. I had my own business on a beach the way my mom and I had always wanted. I had the most supportive husband, who was also the best dad to our healthy, happy baby boy. I had everything I had ever wanted in my life, and I was perfectly, completely happy.
We were still cuddling Theo at the edge of the party when the music slowed and everyone began cheering.
Andreas handed Theo off to Katie and extended his hand. “I do believe it is time for our first dance, Mrs. Stanis.”
I placed my hand in his and he led me to the dance floor where we twirled and dipped to the music. When we were all danced out, having chatted with and thanked each one of our two-dozen or so guests in between songs, we made our way to the back of the party.
Andreas bent down and whispered in my ear, “Are you ready to go?”
I looked up and nodded. We slipped away from the party, stopping only to hug and kiss our baby, who would be staying with Noura for the night while Andreas took me to whatever wedding night destination he had planned for us. It was a secret that he refused to share.
“Well, what now?” I asked, sitting in the passenger seat of his sports car, our fingers interlocked over the center console.
Andreas picked up our hands and kissed the back of mine tenderly.
“The rest of our lives, my love. The rest of our lives.”
The End
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Single Dad, Billionaire Boss
Time for a tease!
Up next is the first chapter of the previous book from my Billionaires of Europe series, Single Dad, Billionaire Boss
Happy reading!
Holly x
Copyright 2018 by Holly Rayner
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Harper
“I’m back!”
The elderly woman’s voice surprises me. Only moments ago, she’d squeezed past me, with her knitting in hand, to go “stretch her legs” by walking down the airplane aisle. While she was gone, I slid over into her window seat.
“Oh, goodness… Sorry!” I say, embarrassed to be caught in her place. “I just wanted to peek.”
I take in one last view out the plane window. The snow-capped Alps pierce the blue sky like meringue peaks on a lemon pie. Then, I shift over, the blue pleather seat cushions squeaking beneath me.
As I move, she speaks again. “You know what? You stay there, dear. You like the view. I’ll take your spot.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’ve had the window shade closed the whole time, and you probably would have loved to be looking out. It gives me vertigo, if you must know—looking out windows from way up here. You stay.” The woman slides past our fellow traveler, a man with a potbelly whose snores occasionally interrupt our conversation.
“Thank you!”
I look back out. I’ll be skiing on those mountains soon. I’ve always wanted to and now my dream is becoming a reality.
Not exactly in a way that I’d ever wanted, but it’s happening, nonetheless. Doesn’t matter why, or how.
It’s happening.
I have to stay positive.
“Is this your first time seeing the Alps?” the woman asks, settling into the seat I had occupied since we departed Boston Logan International Airport.
“Yes,” I say, drawing my eyes away from the stunning view just long enough to glance at the woman and nod. She’s back to knitting, her fingers working furiously fast though her words are slow.
“Visiting family?” she asks.
“No… A vacation.” I look back out the window to try to hide any shame-filled blush that might bleed through my cheeks.
“All on your own?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“No family? No friend to travel with?”
“Nope, it’s just me!” My voice sounds more clipped than I intended, but I can’t help it. I’m tired of everyone—from the travel agent to the hotel clerk—noting my solo status as if it was something I should feel bad about.
“Well… I’m sure you’ll have fun anyways,” she says, reaching out and patting my arm. Then, she returns to her knitting. The needles click against each other, accentuating the drawn-out pause when I don’t respond.
I try to focus on the view outside the window instead of her pity. The dramatic, rocky peaks are so much sharper and more rugged than the mountains I’ve become used to in New England. The mountain tops stand tall, and I realize they’ve never been bulldozed into submission by moving glaciers, like the rounded peaks I’m used to.
Looking at the towering, jagged mountains makes me feel a little more unyielding. I refuse to feel sorry for traveling alone
.
“I will,” I say. “Have a good time, I mean. A great time. A fabulous time.” I accentuate the word “fabulous”. It’s not a word I usually use, but as it rolls off my tongue, I decide that I’m going to say it more often. It’s the kind of word a woman who solo-travels to the Swiss Alps would use.
I continue. “I’ve wanted to ski in Europe for my whole life. And now, I’m going to do it. Cross it off the bucket list. I’m excited.”
“That’s wonderful, dear,” the woman says. “Why now? You’re so young… Most people think about bucket lists when they’re old and soon-to-expire, like me.” She gives a self-depreciating chuckle.
“I just… I found myself with a little extra time on my hands, and extra spending money too.”
I don’t go into exactly why my schedule has opened up, or where the money came from, and thankfully, she doesn’t ask.
“A good combination,” she says. “Time and money. Good for you.”
She settles into silence, leaving me time to stew over my own predicament.
Yes, time and money go well together, and I know that I should be grateful. But it’s hard to feel grateful about losing your job, with six months left of the school year.
I still can’t believe I was fired.
“Harper, you’re an excellent teacher,” my principal said. “If it weren’t for these budget cuts, I’d be promoting you. But the school board’s decision is forcing my hand. I have to let you go.”
“Now?” I remember asking in disbelief. It was just before winter vacation. My students were going to perform their holiday concert for parents that very afternoon. I was wearing my goofiest holiday sweater, and reindeer antlers on my head. After the meeting, I was supposed to return to my classroom and host the celebration, full of holiday cheer.
“I’m sorry, Harper. We’ll keep you on for another two months, so that you can help to merge your class with Mr. Murphy's.”