The Hustle (Irreparable #4)

by KJ Bell

  How do you explain to a woman how her confidence and fierce independence saved you? That her not needing me, is ultimately what relieved the pressure long enough for me to love her? Peyton never needed a knight in shining armor. She was . . . I can’t help but smile—okay.

  Even when I broke her heart and I abandoned her, she was okay. I never defined her, and she didn’t need me to be happy, or for a better life or to save her. She simply wanted love and a partner to share her life with.

  For some baffling reason, she chose me. By her being okay, the chaos was finally tamed, and I fell in love with a woman who will always be okay. That means I can’t fail her. Not because I’m not capable, but because you can’t ever disappoint a woman who won’t allow you to.

  I tried many times. When she accepted who I was and the garbage left behind, I did everything in my power to force her to run, but she dug her heels in and refused to budge.

  Her hand trembles as I slide the ring up her slim finger, promising to love her forever. It’s when she slides the ring up my finger and promises to love me that my hand begins to shake. The ring represents an outward reminder of our internal devotion, but my runaway emotions are a result of knowing she is now my wife. That she’ll share my love and my life and my family.

  We’re one heart.

  After we’re announced as husband and wife, we make our way up the aisle through a long line of friends and family, wanting to wish us well. Before I start, a firm hand presses on to my shoulder. I spin to see my big brother. He pulls me into a bear hug and lifts me off the ground. When he lets me go, he says, “I love you, kid.”

  I let out a loud breath. I’m not going to cry. “Back at ya, old man.”

  He tips his head back with a boisterous laugh. “The age gap is closing now, little brother. It’s all downhill from here.”

  I know he’s joking but I shake my head. Peyton found me at rock bottom and took my hand. For me, life is all uphill from here.

  The next face I see is Alejandro. He slides his hand into mine and offers a firm shake. I smile, pulling my hand away, but he keeps a firm hold. “This, young man, is what Maria would have wanted. She has peace. I’m proud of you.”

  My eyes sting as I nod because if I speak, I won’t make it through the line. I hear giggling from Tori and Liv as they tell Peyton congratulations.

  I thank Alejandro and move on to Guadalupe. She throws her arms around my neck. “Oh, Mijo. I’m so happy for you. Peyton is lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hug Leti and Alex next and then move on to Rodrigo. He takes my hand, standing tall. After everything went down with my parents, he was the closest thing I had to a parent. He tried many times to talk to me, but I was too stubborn to listen.

  “You’re a good man, son,” he says, pausing to take in a breath. “You’ve done a lot to help me at The Center, but you know I think of you as family, and I’m proud of you.”

  I pull him in for a quick hug and thank him.

  Tears leak from Tori’s eyes as she waits for me. I’ve loved this woman most of my life. For so long, I held onto regret and resentment for that love. Sick as it is, I once believed Tori sabotaged anything good in my life. I knew she loved me too, and I honestly thought she didn’t want me to be happy. Like she wanted me devoted to her in case Brady broke her heart. Yes, we share a dysfunctional love, but it was never meant to be a romantic love. She knew that long before I did. And if not for Tori, I’d still be lost. It was her who forced me and Peyton together.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, holding her in a tight hug.

  She sucks in a ragged breath, releasing me. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve hurt you.”

  “No . . . stop,” I say caressing her cheek. “We’ve hurt each other, but that’s our past. Let’s leave it there.”

  She wipes her cheeks and nods. “I love you, Tuggy.”

  “I love you, too, Tor.”

  After another hug, my sister approaches me. Liv and I have a love/hate relationship, but at the end of the day, she’s my best friend. Before Peyton, she was the only one who could see through me.

  “Little bother,” she says, smiling.

  I laugh, remembering how she always used to call me bother, not brother.

  “Big sis.” I yank her in for a hug.

  When she pulls away, she hands me a folded piece of paper and says, “When you’re ready.”

  The way she smiles with concern, I know the letter is from my father. She leaves as I stare at the cream stationary in my hand, not certain I’ll ever be ready to read the words of the one man who failed his family more than I did.

  “Shall we party?” Peyton asks, looping her arm through mine. Our eyes meet and I frown. “What is it?” she asks, noticing the paper.

  “It’s from my father.”

  “Are you going to read it?”

  I shake my head. “Not now.”

  The thought of him stealing the happiness from this day makes me angry. I shove the note into my pocket, and then pick Peyton up in my arms.

  Aidan can’t pull me away from our friends and family quickly enough. That note from his father clearly bothered him, but I won’t force him to read it. I want this to be a happy day.

  He carries me to the limo and shoves me inside, ignoring my shrieking in protest. He slams the door shut and a fierce flash of lust bursts in the depths of his rich, brown eyes as he comes for me. His hands are under my dress and working their way up before I even have a chance to stop him and his lips cover mine before I get the opportunity to verbally protest.

  He kisses me like he’s never kissed me before, as if he needs me to breathe. His passion and intensity are hard to resist when my traitorous body begs me to allow him to continue. My silky lace panties are soaked and he knows he’s got me when he dips his fingers under the fabric. He groans, panting into my mouth about how I’m always so ready for him.

  As the limo pulls away from the curb, I move my head to the side to break the kiss, panting about how I need a minute.

  “No way. I’ve been hard since I first laid eyes on you in this dress.”

  My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but my pussy heats with desire. Still we’re in a limo with a driver, who may or may not be able to see through the glass. His lips continue kissing along my jaw and my neck as two of his fingers push inside, stretching me. A moan leaves my lips and I feel him smile against my skin. Bastard.

  “You know the consummating traditionally happens after the reception, in private.”

  He groans pushing his fingers deeper. I whimper in agony as the pressure intensifies. “Fuck tradition,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers. When he puts them in his mouth and sucks my desire from them, I’m no longer able to deny him.

  Who cares about the driver? He’s probably seen his fair share of X-rated peep shows. An instant later, my panties are gone and my husband is deep inside of me.

  My husband.

  I’m still weak in the knees when we make our way up the steps to the front door of the reception hall. If I’d known married sex was so mind-blowing, I would have forced Peyton to elope the day after I asked her to be my wife.

  She takes a moment to straighten her dress, and I wipe a streak of mascara from her cheek before opening the door. We’re greeted by our friends and family as well as a sour look from Barbara. Apparently we were supposed to arrive with the rest of the wedding party. If I didn’t think Peyton would deny me married sex, I’d fill her mom in on what held us up.

  We take a seat at our designated bride and groom spots at the wedding party table. I laugh as we spot the glasses of water at the same time. Married sex makes you thirsty. We drain the glasses before dinner is served. After dinner, we cut cake and apparently, I’m the only one who didn’t expect Peyton to mush it against my face.

  After a few dances, where I keep her all to myself, she’s called away for a dance with Rodrigo.

  I watch her and then hear Brady from behind. “Are you going to read it?”
<
br />   Liv must have told him about the letter from Nate. I haven’t been to see my father in years. Liv goes more than any of us. While I don’t talk about it much, I may have more hatred for my father than I did my mother. Only recently, after making many of my own catastrophic mistakes, have I given thought to forgiving him.

  “Not yet,” I answer, spinning to face Brady.

  “You should.”

  “Not here.” He presses his lips together. “What? Say it . . . You think I should?”

  “I think today’s a day to let go of the past, and Nate helped me do that once.” He walks away, leaving me to decide.

  Fuck it! Let’s see what my father has to say. I sit back at the wedding table and unfold the letter.

  Aidan,

  I don’t blame you for not coming to see me. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. I want you to know how sorry I am for not being a better father. Of the three of you, I know it was you that discovered the truth. I should have come clean. Instead, I let you carry the burden and that was wrong. I failed you and I hope one day you can forgive me.

  Liv tells me you’re getting married and you have a son. You were always a kind and thoughtful child, and I know despite everything, you’ll be a great husband and father. I’m proud of you, son. You’re a better man than I and you deserve happiness.

  Take care,

  Your father, Nate

  I wad the paper in my hand, fisting it tight. Anger and hurt, combine with a genuine sadness I hate feeling. I want to hate my father and hold an eternal grudge, but I can’t. After everything that I’ve done, I finally understand my father. I know why he covered up for my mother, why he couldn’t tell her no. He loved her. Right or wrong, foolish or not, it didn’t matter. Loving her was insanity, but we don’t get to choose. Once love latches on, we will do anything to keep the person of our affections. I did.

  “You okay?” Liv asks, filling the seat next to me.

  I nod. “Yeah. Thanks for this,” I say, holding the balled up letter.

  “Thank him, someday . . . when you’re ready.”

  “I love you, Livvy.”

  She lowers her head on my shoulder. “Love you too, bother.”

  The Hunter children are survivors. Brady and I found love, and I hope one day, my sister can too.

  “Here comes your bride and I have to find Tori,” Liv says before kissing the top of my head.

  I round the table and pull Peyton into my arms just as the announcer calls for a father/daughter dance. Phil whisks Peyton away from me. I can’t hear what Phil says to Peyton while leading her across the dance floor, but the smile on her face assures me whatever it is makes her happy. Once the song ends, Peyton returns to my side as the DJ announces it’s time for the mother/son dance.

  How the fuck can I dance with my mother? And how in the hell did the wedding planner screw up the details? The stab of anger through my chest has me balling my fists, but then the DJ requests Peyton join Javier on the dance floor. The anger transforms to pride. Thanks to Peyton, Javier won’t ever know the pain that crushed me moments ago. He’ll have all the mother/son moments he deserves.

  “Did you plan this?” Peyton asks, her eyes welling with thick tears.

  I shake my head. “No. I assumed you arranged it.”

  “Mom.” Javier pulls on Peyton’s arm. “May I have this dance?” he asks all gentlemanly, as though he’s been practicing.

  Those tears now race down Peyton’s cheeks as she takes Javier’s hand and follows him to the dance floor. Javier performing the waltz perfectly tells me he’s definitely been prepped for this moment. I turn my head in time to catch Liv and Tori huddled together slapping fives. I’ll have to remember to thank them later. Of any gift we’ll receive today, this is the one we’ll always remember.

  It was hard enough holding back tears when my wife and son danced together for the first time as mother and son, but when Tori and Liv stand to give a shared toast, I know I’ll be reduced to a blubbering mess.

  Tori starts. “Tug, I mean Aidan. On behalf of your family, we want you to know how proud we are of you. We always knew you’d find someone willing to put up with your crap.”

  The crowd erupts into hysterics and I release the breath I’d been holding. Maybe I can escape without crying like a baby.

  Liv continues, “But Peyton is so much more than your wife. We’ve also fallen in love with her. You gave us another sister and we just want you both to know how much we love you.”

  Ah . . . fuck, here come the waterworks. Thankfully Tori rescues me when she adds, “And by the way, if you screw it up, we get to keep her.”

  Laughter resumes and I’m able to smile, knowing I won’t screw it up.

  I finally reached a place where I understand that everyone feels broken at some point in their life. All the cracks and fine lines that remain molded me into a man capable of loving Peyton. Without my flaws there would be no reminder of the man that doesn’t deserve her, and I need him to remember why I do.

  One Year Later . . .

  Deeply satisfied eyes stare up at me as I descend from the sky. No longer able to control my shaking arms, I deflate next to Peyton. Married sex never gets old. It only gets better, and I can’t wait to experience what baby-making sex feels like. For some reason now feels like the right time to broach the subject.

  “Peyton.”

  “Hmmm . . .”

  “When should we make Javier a brother?” She rolls to her side to face me. My spirit deflates at her expression as I consider we’ve never talked about having children. It doesn’t look as though Peyton’s too eager to get started. “You don’t want any more kids?”

  “No . . . I mean . . . yes.”

  “But?”

  She sighs. “Javier’s nine.”

  “You do realize he has no role in the baby-making process, right?”

  “Yes . . . boob, I do.” I laugh. I’m always referred to as a boob when I use humor inappropriately, which basically amounts to me being called boob frequently. “But he does have a role in our family. It could take me awhile to get pregnant and then nine months before a baby comes. He could be ten or eleven . . . twelve even.”

  Clearly I am a boob because I have no idea what the age difference has to do with anything. “Is there a time limit on becoming a brother?”

  She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t call me boob, so I’m not totally off base. “No, but I worry about the age difference. What do you remember most about your siblings growing up?”

  “Playing games, going to school together, especially Liv. And Brady taking us to senior parties when we were underclassmen. We were friends as much as we were siblings.”

  “Exactly. If let’s say, Javier is twelve when we have a baby, then they won’t exactly be hanging out together.”

  I’m sure she has a point and she’s dropping these little nuggets in hopes I’ll figure it out, but I still feel clueless. “So?”

  “So, they’ll both still feel like only children and I don’t want Javier to think he has to take care of his little sister or brother when he’s approaching his formative years.”

  “Formative years? Have you been talking to your mom?”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point.”

  If she’s spoken with her mother, then she’s considered having more children, which is a start. However I’m still confused. “Okay, so we have two children, say a year apart and we hire a nanny so Javier doesn’t feel like a caregiver. Now can we get down to baby making?”

  She rolls her eyes again, and I know I’m behaving impossibly, but I just don’t see the issue as clearly as she does. “You know if you want to have sex, there are less complicated avenues which generally allow the experience to be more enjoyable.”

  “No way. I hear couples trying to conceive fuck like rabbits.”

  I nibble on her ear, causing her to giggle but she still pushes me away “Boob . . . Maybe, but quantity isn’t quality. A friend back home told me baby-making sex usually re
volves around an ovulation schedule and loses all its fun because it’s all about fertilizing an egg and not satisfying her.”

  “Oh, is that what you’re worried about, Mrs. Hunter? I promise to make you come each and every time we attempt to fertilize an egg.”

  She just laughs as I lower my head and kiss the spot behind her ear that makes her squirm.

  “I have a better idea. You make me come each and every time we have sex. And we go another route to make Javier a brother.”

  She has my full attention as I lift my head. “I’m listening.”

  The loud sigh she exhales worries me. Whatever her alternative route is, she’s nervous about sharing.

  “Okay so I’ve done a little research into adoption. I know it’s not biological children, but we could adopt children close in age to Javier and in the process give two kids a home that need one and love like our own, like we love Javier.”

  While Peyton still contracts interior design jobs, she spends most of her time volunteering with Liv at The Center. She’s shared with me how she never expected to share a bond with any of the children. Only as the months passed, she grew increasingly fond of Camilia and Paco. She talks about them all the time and I have a feeling her looking into adoption has something to do with them, which if possible makes me love her even more. Knowing she may end up extremely disappointed guts me, but she has to know what adopting in Mexico entails.

  “I love you and I love that you love Paco and Camilia as much as I do. But, there’s a ton of red tape involved, Peyton. Believe me, I’ve looked into it myself.”

  Blush sweeps over her cheeks as she nibbles on her bottom lip.

  “I might have already had Rodrigo file the necessary forms and as long as we’re willing to move to Mexico, and take temporary custody, he doesn’t see any reason the government will deny the application. Although it will take time, but no more than conceiving a child of our own.”