The words aren’t even out of my mouth and Tyson is rushing toward me. The envelope is ignored as he gathers me in his strong arms. “Thank you,” he whispers, his lips against my neck. “I swear to God you won’t regret this.” Tyson’s voice is soft and shaky. “I promise you that I will be the best damn father that little boy could ever ask for, and I will love him just as much any other children we have together.”
My vision blurs, and when I blink, tears fall down my flushed cheeks. “You already are the best damn father,” I choke out. “I’m sorry I didn’t sign it right away.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says, his lips finding mine for several short kisses. “You’re giving me a son … our son. Since the moment I found out about him, Max has been mine. But now it’s official … and you did that.”
“Well,” I say, batting away my tears. “I am sort of fantastic.”
Tyson tosses his head back and laughs, the sound shooting straight to my core. I squeeze my thighs together to suppress the growing ache, because right now there is something much more important that we need to do.
“Let’s go tell, Max,” I say, pulling out of Tyson’s embrace.
If it’s at all possible, his bright smile widens even more, and he grabs my hand and rushes in the direction of the living room. He stops midway and I nearly slam into his back. “Wait,” Ty says, spinning around. “Should I tell him or should you?”
“You should tell him.”
“Thank you.” Tyson gives me a peck on the lips before turning toward the living room.
“What took you so long?” Max grumbles when we enter the room. He’s sitting on the floor, his foot propped up on some pillows. He picks up the Xbox remote and nods toward the TV. “Let’s finish our game. It’s been on pause forever.”
Tyson doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he sits down next to him. “Max, what would you say if I told you I was going to be your dad?”
Max laughs and scrunches up his nose. “You already are my dad,” he says.
“But what if I said it was going to be official?”
“I don’t understand,” Max says, setting his controller in his lap.
“I want to adopt you, Max.”
“Really?”
“Yes, real—oomph.” Not at all bothered by his ankle, Max throws himself into Tyson’s arms. Then he squeezes his eyes shut as Tyson wraps his arms around our son.
My heart swells with so much love that I’m afraid it may actually burst, and I cover my mouth with a shaky hand as I watch the two of them embrace.
“I love you, Max.” Tyson kisses the top of Max’s head several times as he repeats those three little words.
“I love you too, Dad.”
2 weeks later
“Hey, babe!” Harley bends down and kisses my cheek and then heads straight for the coffee pot. “What do you have planned today?”
“Nothing much,” I say with a shrug. “I think I might take Max fishing.”
“That sounds like fun.” Harley pours herself a cup of coffee and sits down next to me at the table. “Quinn will be here to pick me up in about ten minutes.”
“Ah, that’s right,” I say. “What are you girls doing again? Getting your hair done?”
“Not just our hair,” she says, blowing across the top of her mug before taking a sip. “We’re getting the whole shebang. Manicure and pedicure, too … oh, and Quinn’s trying to talk me into getting my makeup done. She wants us to go have drinks with her tonight at Blue.”
“You should do it. Although I think you look beautiful with or without your makeup.”
“You’re so sweet.” Harley leans forward and brushes her lips across mine in a gentle kiss. “That’s why I love you,” she mumbles before pulling back. A loud horn honks from outside and Harley jumps up, her coffee completely forgotten. “That’s Quinn. I better go.”
“Have fun!” I watch Harley grab her purse and walk out the door. As soon as it closes behind her, I fly from my chair.
“Get in here, Max!” I yell, running through the checklist in my head to make sure I’ve got everything I need.
Max runs into the kitchen. His feet hit the tile and he slides across the floor, coming to a stop in front of me. “Is she gone?”
“Yup. Are you ready?” I ask, picking up my keys and heading toward the door.
“The question is, are you ready?”
I stop midstride and turn to Max. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” I laugh when Max just shrugs, and then he follows me as I walk outside.
We drive straight to Quinn’s parents’ house. It’s a gorgeous Victorian-style home that sits on one hundred sprawling acres with a view of a lake that will take your breath away.
“Wow.” Max peers out the window as we drive down the lane. “This place is huge.”
“Wait until you see the inside.”
Both Harley and Quinn’s parents appear from the side of the house, and I throw the car into park, turn it off and climb out with Max following behind. They’re all walking toward us, and when I get within reach, Harley’s mom pulls me in for a tight hug. Her dad nudges Max in the shoulder before ruffling his hair, and of course Max bats his hand away.
“Thank you so much for letting us do this here on such short notice,” I say, shaking Quinn’s dad’s hand when Harley’s mom loosens her grip on me.
“It was no problem at all,” he says, glancing at Harley’s parents. “Harley has been like a daughter to us. We were happy to do it.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” I nod toward the back of the house. “I’m going to go see what else needs to be done.” I walk down the stone path, away from the group, and when the backyard comes into view, I nearly trip over my own two feet.
“Looks good, doesn’t it?” Levi claps a hand on my shoulder and I give him a sidelong glance. He’s one of Harley’s best friends—has been for years—and he has quickly become one of mine as well. “I don’t think ‘good’ is the right word,” I say, gazing out across the yard. My eyes scan the scene in front of me, pausing on Laney, who is tying a bow on one of the willow trees. When she looks over at me and waves, I return the gesture.
“Dude, don’t flirt with my girl.”
“Really?” I ask incredulously. “You really want to go there? You do realize that you’ve seen parts of my fiancé that you should’ve never seen, right?” Levi blushes—actually fucking blushes—and I shake my head before looking away. Then I take a deep breath, pushing all thoughts of the past out of my head. “This looks fantastic. Thank you so much for helping me out.”
“You don’t have to thank me, bro. It was my pleasure. You and Harley are two of my best friends, and I was happy to do it. So was Laney. Plus,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I feel bad that I’ve been so absent recently.” Levi’s face turns serious, and I look over to see him staring at Laney with glassy eyes.
“You’ve had good reason,” I say, nodding toward his beautiful girl.
Levi swallows hard and blows out a long breath before taking off toward Laney. “Come on, dude,” he says. “There’s more work to be done.” I follow behind, my eyes roaming over the stunning decorations. What else is there to do?
Turns out there was a lot more to do. After two and a half long hours of continuous work, everything is finally ready. Standing back, I once again look out over the yard.
It’s just as I’d pictured it—like something out of a book. White lights are woven into the trees, which are accented by dozens of hanging lanterns. Two rows of white wooden chairs are arranged on either side of the makeshift aisle, and hundreds of white rose petals line the path leading to a large wooden archway. Closing my eyes, I picture Harley walking toward me, her beautiful smile on display, and my heart swells inside of my chest.
I hope she says yes.
Opening my eyes, I look over to the left side of the yard and a wide smile splits my face. Levi and I spent the better part of the morning assembling a large wooden floor that Quinn had rented from s
omewhere. Putting it together was bitch, but I’m glad we did because it looks awesome. There are several round tables covered in white linen cloths, and the chairs are accented with light purple bows. A band is warming up on a small stage, and the caterers are working diligently to set up the food. It all looks so perfect.
The perfect wedding for the perfect girl.
“She’s here!” Max yells, barreling through the yard toward me. “She’s here!”
“Thanks, Max,” I say, patting his back as I walk toward the driveway with my heart on my sleeve.
This is it.
“Tell me again why we’re going to your mom’s house?”
Pulling down the sun visor in the car, I admire my hair in the little mirror. The stylist didn’t do anything special, just touched up my highlights and put some loose curls in my already wavy hair, but I have to admit it looks damn good.
“Because I have to get my heels for tonight,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Okaaaay. But why does your mom have your heels?”
“Why do you have to ask so many questions?” she says, sounding less annoyed than her words might indicate. The drive to her parents’ house is short, and I smile when it comes into view. But that smile quickly fades.
What is Tyson doing here … and my parents? Is that Max?
My head snaps toward Quinn. “What is this? What’s going on?” Quinn stops the car in the middle of the lane and puts it in park. I glance at where Tyson is standing and watch him take a hesitant step forward. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, and he looks nervous. Quinn throws up a hand and Tyson’s steps falter. I look back at Quinn, eyebrows raised, silently begging her to tell me what’s going on.
“You know I love you, right?” she asks.
“Of course I do.”
“You deserve the best, Harley. You deserve everything in life that you’ve ever wanted—plus some—and I just want you to remember that when we get up there, okay?”
I nod and glance toward the house. Everyone is now standing in the front yard a few steps behind Tyson, and I can’t help but feel like this is some sort of intervention.
What in the hell is going on?
I swallow past the lump in my throat as Quinn drives the rest of the way up the lane. After she parks, she immediately pushes open her door and climbs out, but I’m frozen in place. In a matter of seconds, Tyson is opening my door. He offers me a hand and I allow him to help me out of the car.
“Hey.” Tyson cups my face in his hands, his brown eyes roaming over my face. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” I should probably come up with something better to say, but I’m a little confused—okay, more than a little confused. My eyes drift over Tyson’s shoulder and I notice that everyone is gone. It’s just the two of us.
“Hey, pretty girl. Up here.” Tyson snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I look up. His eyes are filled with so much love that I feel myself start to relax.
“What is this?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”
“Well…” Tyson slides his hands down my arms and links his fingers with mine. “I was hoping we could get married.”
“I—I don’t understand,” I stammer.
“Harley”—Tyson drops to one knee and a hand flies to my mouth— “I know we’re already engaged, but I’m tired of waiting. You’re it for me, and I want to make it official. Will you marry me … today?”
I don’t even bother answering him. I throw myself into Tyson’s arms and he topples backward but somehow manages to keep us from both hitting the ground. “I love you,” I say, right before I fuse my mouth to his. Our tongues intertwine in an age-old dance, and we only pull away when loud catcalls catch our attention.
My cheeks burn with heat and I bury my face in Tyson’s chest. “Is that a yes?” he asks, pulling back. I peek up at him and give the answer he’s been waiting for.
“Yes.” Tyson’s blinding smile causes my heart to explode, and I can’t help but wonder how I got so damn lucky. “What are we waiting for?” I ask. In the blink of an eye, he stands up, tosses me over his shoulder and walks toward the house.
“She said yes!” he hollers. I push up from where I’m draped over Tyson’s shoulder to see several heads poking out from behind the house.
Everything that happens after that is a complete blur. Quinn, Laney and Mom whisk me away into the house, where I’m presented with my mother’s wedding dress.
“It’s your something old,” she says, gathering me in her arms. “I’m so happy for you.” She sniffs several times, and the sound of her crying brings me to tears.
“Thank you, Mama.”
“No crying!” Quinn chirps, clapping her hands. “You’ll ruin your makeup. And I’ve hired the best damn photographer that I could find, so we can’t have tearstains or raccoon eyes.”
Mom and I both laugh as we pull apart. “Yes, ma’am,” my mom says, saluting Quinn just as Max pushes his way into the room.
“Tyson wants to know if you’re ready. Oh, and I’m supposed to give you this.” Max holds out a plain white envelope and I take it from him. Slipping my finger under the lip, I lift the flap and pull out a bright pink coupon. My jaw drops when I realize it’s one of the blank coupons I gave Tyson a year and a half ago. I can’t believe he kept it.
“What’s it say?” Max says, pulling on my arms to get a better look.
I hold the piece of paper close to my chest. “Happily ever after.”
“Good God that man is amazing,” Quinn says, dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex. “You are such a lucky bit—girl,” she says, thankfully correcting herself when she looks over and sees Max still standing there.
“Can we do this now?” he whines. “This suit is hot.”
“Let’s do this.” I walk out of Quinn’s old bedroom and through the house, and then stop at the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. I register the beautiful decorations and handful of guests, but that isn’t what catches my attention.
All the breath is robbed from my lungs when I spot Tyson standing at the altar. To put it simply, the man looks sexy as hell. He’s shed the coat and removed the tie, and he’s standing there in black pants and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his elbows.
“Ready, sweetheart?” my dad says.
“More than ready.” Dad slides open the door. Mom and Quinn step out first, followed by Max and me. I watch Quinn take her place near the altar next to where I’ll be standing, and Mom sits in a chair up front.
“I’ll see you up there. Dad needs me,” Max says proudly. He gives me a quick hug and then takes his place next to Tyson, who holds out his fist for Max to bump it. Then Max laughs at something Tyson says, and the sight of the two of them together causes warmth to radiate throughout my body. Suddenly, I feel the need to get up there with them as fast as humanly possible.
“Let’s do this,” I say, slipping my hand in the crook of my dad’s arm. I lock eyes with Tyson from across the yard and allow my feet to follow my heart straight into my forever.
Tyson’s gaze doesn’t waver. The closer I get, the wider his smile grows. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of my best friend, the father of my children, the love of my life.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers.
His words wrap around my heart like a blanket. Tears form in my eyes, but I’m determined to keep them in. “Thank you. You don’t look too shabby yourself.”
The pastor clears his throat and we both look up at him. “Who gives this woman away?”
My dad looks at me and smiles. “Her mother and I do.” Pushing up on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck.
“I love you,” I tell him.
“I love you too, baby girl,” he says, tightening his hold for a brief second before pulling back.
I turn to Tyson and he takes my hands in his, skimming his thumbs across my knuckles. His eyes are shining with so much love, and my knees actually go weak at the thought of becoming his w
ife. It takes everything I have not to blurt out ‘I do’ and kiss him right then and there.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
Tyson steps toward me until our chests are touching. The pastor clears his throat again, but that doesn’t deter my man. Bending down, Tyson kisses my cheek and then his lips find my ear. “I’m beyond ready. This is our forever, Harley,” he whispers. “You and me … we’re standing on solid ground.”
I push the door open and a small bell signals my entry. At best, InkSlingers is a complete dive, not near as sleek-looking as some of the newer tattoo parlors. But they have one thing—one person, really—that sets them above all the rest.
Connor Jackson.
Not only is he one of the most highly recommended tattoo artists in the city, but two years ago he won top prize on the reality show Inked. If I recall, the grand prize was two hundred thousand dollars to be used toward the establishment of his own parlor. So why in the hell he works in this dinky building off the corner of Hampton and Third, I have no idea. And to be honest, I don’t really care.
“Hello …” I say, looking around. The place is eerily quiet, not a soul in sight. Glancing down at my watch, I check the time. Sure enough, it’s fifteen minutes earlier than my scheduled appointment. That’s me … Miss Punctuality.
I spend the next five minutes pacing across the waiting room area of the shop without a seeing a single person, all the while wondering who in the hell leaves their shop unattended?
Just when about I’m about ready to say screw it and walk out, the front door opens and once again the bell dings. I spin around on my heel, prepared to chew someone’s ass for making me wait, and then I nearly trip over my own feet when I see the behemoth of a man standing in front of me.
Without permission, my eyes rake him over from head to toe. His dirty blonde hair is shaggy and clearly hasn’t been trimmed for months. He could probably pull it into one of those man-bun things that seem to be all the rage, but instead it hangs loose with the stray strands tucked behind his ears.
On Solid Ground (A Touch of Fate) Page 7