by Anthology
He swipes at a tear, passing it off as dust, but I’m wise to his broken heart. Because old wounds just resurfaced for me too. I miss my mother—more so around the holidays—but Dad’s grieved and spent too much of his time lonely. This—although a red-stained shock—is a good thing. Marcus leans down so only I can hear and whispers, "She’s nice. Don’t judge a book by its cover. I’ve spent the last hour chatting with her and Dad. I think she’s good for him."
Dad clears his throat. "Care to fill us in?"
Inhaling a deep breath, my senses overload on the scent of pine from the large illuminated tree, the magic of the season, and the memory of my mother. "Hannah, Dad, come. Sit. Let’s turn this crap day into something to remember." I focus my attention on Hannah—did she really have to wear that?—and smile past my embarrassment. "Hi, I’m Riley. It’s nice to meet you. Why don’t you tell me all about how you whisked that impossible man off his feet?"
Dad’s face lights up brighter than Rockefeller Center in the middle of December. He places a soft kiss atop my head, like he used to when I was a little girl, and whispers, "Thank you, baby. I love you."
"I love you too, Daddy." The phrase pleases my lips and thaws my heart.
We spend the rest of the night by the fireplace, laughing, drinking, joking and Yule tiding. Although it isn’t how I pictured it in my mind’s eye, Christmas Eve didn’t turn out to be the disaster it could have been.
The following day, we each decide to go our own way. Marcus and Tessa spend the day at home with Luca and all his new toys. From what my brother tells me, Tessa is barely able to make it out of the bed to take pictures of her son opening presents. Their Christmas is a bust, but they’re together and that’s all that matters.
Dad and Hannah visit with her sister and her family. They welcome him with open arms—clearly not judgmental Graysons—and help them plan a last minute honeymoon that Marcus and I decide to gift them for the holidays. Our attempt to make up for a horrible first impression.
Beck, Claire, and I wind up at the firehouse. Beck is called in for an emergency –despite the fact he earned Christmas Day off by working on Thanksgiving. Nonetheless it all works out. Claire and I stay back and cook for the crew. When they arrive home from their run, the guys are so thankful for the makeshift feast I’ve prepared. It’s actually really nice.
Thanksgiving sucked, Christmas was a little better. Thankfully, there’s still another holiday to celebrate before we close out this year. One can only hope we’ll avoid ringing in the New Year with a destructive bang.
Chapter Three
New Year’s Eve
Marcus
It wasn’t too long ago that New Year’s Eve was the party night of the year for me. Bar hopping, multiple women vying for my attention, and enough booze to inebriate a moose. Damn, those days were fun. But that’s the past, and one of the main reasons I love New Year’s Eve is for its symbolism. Fresh starts. New beginnings. Clean slates. Out with the old, in with the new. And my new happens to be fucking glorious.
"How you feeling, pretty girl?" I adjust my bowtie and focus on Tessa’s reflection in the mirror.
She’s sitting on the bed, rubbing her temples. Even though she’s still not feeling tip top, she looks goddamn gorgeous. "I’m okay, baby. At least I’m not nauseous." She flips me a thumbs up.
I finish toying with my monkey suit and join my wife on the edge of our bed. Clutching her hands, I rest them in her lap and use my own to try to knead her headache away. "Listen, there’s nothing I want more in the world than to kiss my beautiful wife when the ball drops at midnight, but if you’re not feeling up to it you can stay back, you know?"
Her head jerks up, her eyes assaulting mine. "And miss your father’s wedding? Are you insane, Marcus? I would never do that."
"I know you wouldn’t and I knew you’d react that way, but we’re not just talking about you anymore, Tess." I place a hand on her belly. It’s still flat and sexy, but knowing my baby’s growing inside her makes my skin tingle as it touches that special spot.
"The baby’s fine. Believe me—the sicker I am, the more I know this kid is sucking the life right out of me." She’s right about that. This pregnancy has not been easy on her. In fact, it hasn’t been easy on any of us. Tessa’s not herself and I would never point that out at the risk of getting my dick shoved down my throat, but truth is—I miss my happy-go-lucky wife. Especially around this time of year when she usually acts like a certified North Pole elf.
While I won’t deny I’m anxious about tonight for a multitude of reasons, I’m still looking forward to a good time. I rustle a few last minute scenarios in my head that might help Tessa feel less like a mommy with another bun in the oven and more like my hot, fun, lively escort to this wedding. "You sure you don’t want me to call Trish to tag along and help us with Luca?"
"I already did." She frowns and slumps against me. "Busy having fun. Like everyone else will be tonight."
"Hey," I interrupt her pity party. "We’ll have fun."
"Says the man who can still actually drink his champagne tonight."
Oh, shit. I almost forgot she can’t drink. "How about we make a deal?"
"Enlighten me." Who the hell is this snarky, gloomy version of my wife and what has she done with the real one?
I brush off her cynicism and surprise even myself with what comes next. "Since you can’t drink, I won’t either. Not one single ounce. We’ll be sober-for-a-cause together."
"And what exactly is this cause?"
"The knocked up and miserable cause. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?" I wiggle my brows to try and make light of the situation. It doesn’t work.
Tessa’s face drops as she pouts. "So you do think I’m acting as miserable as I feel? God, I’m the worst! I’m so sorry, Marcus. I never meant to put a damper on any of this. I’m just so—"
Pregnant. She’s pregnant and not herself and there’s nothing she can do about it. I can’t fault her for it. I can only make her feel better. That’s my job, isn’t it?
"Stop right there," I intervene as I rub the nape of her neck. "No apologizing. I’ve been working like crazy, you’ve been feeling like crap. Add to that the constant commotion of the holidays—I get it. You’re pregnant and miserable. There’s no crime in refusing to be all I love everything about being pregnant. It can’t be easy, Tess. Can you imagine if it were me?"
That gets me an adorable smirk and an exaggerated arched brow.
"Exactly. I’d be the whiniest bitch in the fucking world. So, don’t apologize for anything. We’re going to this party, dressed to impress, ready to celebrate Dad and Hannah—who I still don’t have the best read on yet, by the way—and it’s gonna be a blast. Like New Year’s Eve always should be. Get it? Got it? Good?" I wait for her to agree, with my nose inches from hers.
"Well, when you put it like that," she finally says, dipping in for a kiss.
And just like that my pretty girl is back. "I love you, Tessa Grayson. You know that, right?"
She smiles and bats her eyes. "I’ve never doubted it for a second. I love you too. Thank you for putting up with me."
"Pssh! You can’t be serious. Even though you’ve felt crappy this past month or so with all your overactive hormones, you’re the one who deserves the medal for putting up with me."
She tugs at my shirt collar and winks. "Sounds like there’s a New Year’s resolution in the making there."
I lean in to nibble her ear and joyful laughter erupts from her red-stained lips. "The only resolution I’m making is to get me a little more of this next year." I paw at her curves, accentuated beautifully by the black lace number she bought for the wedding.
"Relentless. It should be your middle name," she jokes with a smile.
"Gorgeous. That should be yours."
She bends with my touch, deepening our kiss and driving me wild. I take advantage of my wife’s good mood and our son’s long nap. Kneeling on the floor in front of the bed, I hike Tessa’s dress u
p to her thighs and lick my way up her legs, following the delicious scent of her arousal. It’s somehow sweeter now that she’s pregnant.
"Now? Seriously? We have to be on the dinner boat in—"
"Shhh. There’s always time for this, pretty girl. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."
But it’s me who relishes in the ride of my life. Her hips jerk forward each time my tongue pushes deeper. Her soaked pussy bucks against my mouth; my lips suck every drop of her sweet, syrupy release. I may not be able to imbibe on a certain addicting liquid tonight, but this will definitely quench my thirst for a while.
* * *
Beck
If at all possible, Riley’s body became even more insane since having Claire. She’s still slim and sleek, but now her curves are fucking addicting. I love to sink my fingers into the flesh of her perfectly rounded ass when we fuck. She likes it rough—always did—but now every time I slap her ass, she screams for more. I’ve heard them say that sex fizzles out after you’re married. Whoever "them" is, is an asshole.
"Yes, baby! Yes! Harder."
My hand flies over her mouth to keep her quiet. Claire’s napping in the other room and she usually sleeps like the dead, but I don’t want to risk finishing this before we actually . . . finish. I’m certainly no teenager, but with Riles I could go all night.
But we don’t have all night, so I thrust in and out of her warmth as she claws at my back. My own fingers dig into her ass again. At this rate we’ll be bruised, but it’ll be totally fucking worth it.
After a few deep plunges, Riley’s body stiffens, her pussy clenches my cock and milks it dry. We lay there catching our breaths in between mewls and moans.
"And that’s how everyone should ring in the fucking New Year!" Her breathless proclamation makes me chuckle.
"Glad we could start things off right." I spring off the bed then lean down to tap a kiss on Riley’s nose.
"The year’s not over yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself. That counts toward this year."
"What, are you keeping a sex tally, or something? ’Cause if you are, sweet thing, you’re sure to be out of numbers."
Her head falls back, long raven-colored hair cascading down her bare back. "We do fuck a lot, don’t we? Even if we have spent the better part of this year apart."
She doesn’t have to remind me. In fact, I hate that she does. We’ve spent too much of it on opposite ends of the country, or the city for that matter. If I’m not at the firehouse, she’s at the office or away on business. It seems this was the year of conflicting schedules. I’d like to fix that. "Yeah, about that."
"What? All the fucking?"
"No. That, my beautiful girl, is perfect. I’m talking about putting an end to all this distance. I’ve missed you, Ry."
"Aw, B. I’ve missed you too." She scoots across the bed on her knees. She’s still gloriously naked, her skin flushed from our lovemaking, nipples tight at attention. I want to go in for round two, but we’ll wind up late for her father’s wedding.
"Get dressed," I snap as I ignore the blood pumping to my dick—again.
I feel her presence behind me before she even touches me. With slow, languid motions, she caresses my arms, my cock now throbbing. "Ry, come on. I’d love to bury myself inside you again. But we have to get ready and you’re avoiding the topic. I was telling you how much I miss you. Don’t try to divert my attention by flaunting those sexy fucking tits."
I untangle myself from her grip and make my way to the closet.
Her feet pad against the carpet as she follows me. "If my tits can get me out of being reprimanded, then by all means, I’m gonna shake what my momma gave me."
"I’m not reprimanding you. I’m simply telling you this year was a little much. Don’t you think?"
I can’t ignore the long huff that leaks from her lips. Feisty Riley is out to play. "Yes, I wish we didn’t have to be apart as much as we were, but no, I don’t agree that it was too much. I love what I do, B. I don’t intend to give it up. I thought we talked about this. You know how much my career means to me."
Same fight every time. I hope this is something that won’t be reappearing in the New Year. "I do know. I get it. Forget I said anything. Now’s not the time." Sue me if I sound a little clipped. I’m more than clipped, I’m fucking frustrated. I don’t expect her to quit her job and become a barefoot and pregnant housewife, but I do wish she invested as much time in Claire and me as she does her business.
"Don’t be mad, Beck. I’m sorry." She half means it because she knows I can’t stay mad at her, and it’s really a dick move of me to make her apologize for being successful.
Before I can answer, Riley’s phone rings. The loud ringtone instantly wakes Claire from her nap. She never wakes up quietly either—always a dramatic sob fest. Today, I welcome it so we can put this conversation on the back burner.
"I’ll get Claire. You get the phone," I say. But she doesn’t hear me because she’s already deep in conversation on her cell.
I jet into my daughter’s room and creep up to her crib. "Hey, little mama. Have a good nap?"
Claire whines, rubbing her eyes. "Out, Daddy."
I do as I’m told—seems I take lots of orders from women these days—and proceed to coax my daughter out of her after-nap grogginess to get her ready for her grandpa’s big day.
When I return to our bedroom with Claire in my arms, dressed in the beautiful white dress Hannah sent over for her to wear, Riley’s zipping up her gown and applying makeup at the speed of light. "What’s the rush? And look how gorgeous our girl looks."
Riley spins around to take a look at our daughter and smiles brightly. "Wow! Look at you, Claire Bear. You’re too pretty for words."
"Thanks, Mommy." Claire beams as she rocks from side to side.
Kissing our daughter on the cheek, Riley rises and narrows her gaze on me. "B, I have to meet Marcus. He can’t find the rings. Can you and Claire go with Tessa and Luca to the dock?" We both dart our attention to the clock on the nightstand.
"We’re cutting it close, you know?"
"Exactly. So why don’t you go ahead and I’ll take care of my numbskull brother before he ruins Dad’s whole day." Riley’s brain’s going a mile a minute; I can tell. There’s no time to argue with her now. I know she wants the best for her father after so many years of being miserable and lonely.
"You got it, sweet thing. Go do your thing."
We go our separate ways—again—on the supposition that we’ll be back in each other’s arms in less than thirty minutes.
Yeah, or so we thought . . .
* * *
Riley
"I swear on everything good and holy, Marcus, I am going to kick your ass if we miss the ship’s departure. We can’t not be there!" My eyes practically twitch as I stare at the digital clock on Marcus’s dash.
"Would you just shut it already? I’m driving as fast as I can. It wasn’t my bright idea to book a dinner cruise, in the city, on the biggest tourist night of the year."
"But it was your dumb idea to hide the rings so they wouldn’t get lost. And we both know how well that turned out." Idiot forgot his own secret hiding spot. We had to turn the place upside down to finally find them in his sock drawer. Don’t know why we didn’t look there to begin with. Maybe because it was way too obvious.
Marcus disrupts my mental berating with a question I didn’t expect. "What do you think of her, Ry? She good for him? You know, like, as good as Mom was?"
Whoa. "No one will ever be as good as Mom, Marcus."
"I know that." He shrugs, serious again. "But do you think he’s being too hasty? Irrational? I don’t know. I’m so bad at this shit, Ry. I want to be sure he’s making the right decision, and isn’t just lonely and marrying the first hot piece of ass who got his wanker working again."
"Ew! Marcus, really?"
"See, I told you I’m no good at this." He smirks and then slaps himself on the forehead.
"You definitely don’t have a
way with words, but if you can believe it, I understand what you mean." Marcus and I have always been close, even back when he was an insufferable man-whore before Tessa came into the picture. When our mom died, our bond grew stronger because Dad became so closed off. We found a way to rely on each other—me as an older sister/caregiver who replaced the mom he missed; him protecting and loving me in a way my father was too weak to do once he lost his soul mate.
"Well, then, stop beating around the bush. Tell me what you think of Hannah. Are you okay with this?"
My knee bobs as I stare out the window at the stalled traffic. If something doesn’t give, we won’t have to worry about our feelings towards Hannah. Dad will wind up marrying her without either of his kids as witnesses. But I don’t want all the pressure of approval solely on me, so I poke for more of Marcus’s opinion before he forms one based on mine. "I’m okay if you’re okay. What do you think?"
Thankfully, he doesn’t catch on to my use of reverse psychology and spills his guts. "If I’m being fucking honest—and I’m always honest as fuck—I actually really like her, Ry. I know we only met her, like what, seven days ago, but she’s pretty cool. She and Tessa have been talking a lot, mostly wedding planning stuff, but Tessa can’t stop raving about what a sweetheart she is. Hannah must’ve confided in her about how she and dad met on some dating site. Seems she’s a widow too. Even lost her husband to cancer like Mom died. Well, obviously not like Mom because it wasn’t breast cancer, but you know what I mean—"
Marcus babbles on and on about all the things he’s learned about Hannah that I’ve yet to discover. I’m instantly jealous that she didn’t confide in me—her soon to be stepdaughter—about all this stuff. But, like Beck pointed out earlier, I haven’t been around as much as I should. The week after Christmas is always a busy week for clients because they all have holiday bonuses to blow and fresh decorating ideas for the New Year. I never imagined being successful at something I love would wind up being a cross to bear.