Love and Neckties (Rockland Falls Book 4)

by Lacey Black

  The former white walls are now a gorgeous shade of blue that continues to the ceiling, but it’s what’s stuck there that has tears burning behind my eyelids.

  “I know it might be a little cheesy,” he starts, his paint-covered hand messing with the collar of his T-shirt. “I remembered Marissa had these on her ceiling when she was younger, and I got to thinking, they would be perfect for here. For us.”

  I’m smiling as I look up at the dozens of stars on the ceiling. It’s not dark enough in here yet for them to shine, but I can picture it perfectly, the beautiful glow of the stars later tonight. “It’s amazing. I love it,” I tell him, noticing for the first time that the furniture isn’t pushed back against the walls.

  “Tomorrow we’ll move it all back to the walls, but I didn’t want to take the chance of the paint not being completely dry. I’ve never painted an entire room so fast in my life,” he confesses.

  Turning, I throw my arms around his neck. “You did this for me,” I whisper, nuzzling my nose against his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his soap.

  “Yeah, well, for both of us. That white was so…boring.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “It was,” I confirm. “But you’ve made great strides and stepped out of your comfort zone on a lot.”

  He nods in agreement. “I have, because the woman I love has made me see there’s nothing wrong with a little splash of color.” He runs his lips over my forehead and just breathes me in.

  We stand there for several minutes, soaking in the warmth of each other and the changes around us. So many changes, but when I’m next to Samuel, those changes don’t look so daunting. “Thank you for today.”

  He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into his chest, his front to my back. “Anytime, Freedom. You deserved a little pampering.”

  “And for this surprise. It’s my favorite room in the house,” I confess.

  He beams at me. “Oh, Marissa brought over some dinner. It’s in the oven.”

  “Well, I had a double scoop of ice cream not that long ago, so I’m not quite ready for dinner yet.”

  His eyebrows shoot up and a wicked grin spreads across his face. “No?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Whatever shall we do?” he asks, his hands sliding down my arms and drawing goosebumps in their wake.

  “Well, we could talk about our next color change,” I suggest.

  Samuel pauses. “What else could we possibly change? Every room in this place has color in it?”

  With my own wicked smile, I reach down and tug on his shorts. The elastic gives easily as they drop below his narrow hips and fall to the floor. His cock starts to harden right before my eyes, and I lick my lips as I gaze down at it.

  When my eyes meet his, I just smile. “Let’s talk about these tighty-whities.”

  Epilogue

  Samuel

  I’ve never seen the beach look so amazing. Freedom, Mom, and my sisters did an amazing job of setting it up for today’s festivities. There’s an arch along the shore that Latham built and a few rows of white chairs we borrowed from the funeral home. There are small handfuls of daisies tied to the end chairs, creating a sea of flowers on your way to the altar.

  That’s where I stand, with my brother by my side.

  My entire family is here. The Summer clan from Virginia drove in for the occasion, including my aunt and uncle. When we extended the invitation to them, we didn’t think they’d all show up. But they did. All six cousins, their spouses, and kids in tow. It’s a tight fit getting everyone a place to stay, but we’ve made it work. Thankfully, it’s the low season for bed and breakfasts in the area, so we were able to secure a few rooms elsewhere too.

  Whimsical music drifts from the speakers in back, and I can’t help but smile. It’s the same relaxing melodies she plays when giving a massage, which seems a little fitting to me because it’s just her. I’ll admit, I’m starting to sweat in my suit under the late afternoon sun, but I refuse to complain. We have perfect weather for a beach wedding in Rockland Falls.

  My family all files in, taking any available seat. The Hansons are here too, along with Bud and Kitty Douglas, and a few other friends. It’s a small affair, which is exactly what we both wanted.

  Mom is the last one to take her seat in the front row. Beside her is Kathryn and Max, as well as Latham, Marissa, and Rhenn. Everyone I love is front and center on the biggest day of my life. Well, the second biggest. Even though I don’t remember most of it, our Vegas wedding will still be the best day. That was the day I made her mine.

  The one person absent is my father. I still haven’t reached out to him. I don’t know when I’ll be ready, if I ever will be. There’s so much hurt and betrayal there, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to let it go. No, I take that back. I will be able to, just not today. Today is for celebrating. Today is for Freedom and me.

  Everyone turns and looks toward the clearing in the trees as Harper makes her way to the beach. She’s wearing a flowy taupe dress and is holding a bouquet of white daisies. She even has one in her hair, which makes me smile. Harper walks to the front and takes her position beside the minister. My sister gives me an excited smile and a wink before turning to face the trees once more.

  When I turn, my heart stops beating. There, standing amongst the oak trees, is a vision in red. Yes, red. My wife is wearing a long flowy dress in a color as bold and vibrant as she is. It’s seductive, sexy, and dips low in the front. Her long dark hair is pulled up on her head with a halo of flowers surrounding her.

  She’s beautiful.

  Breathtaking.

  Mine.

  As she makes her way toward me, I notice her feet are bare, and I can’t help but grin. My eyes return to her face, and all I see now is her smile. It’s wide and full of happiness, and to see that look on her face, knowing I put it there, brings tears to my eyes. I don’t even care that I could cry in front of my family, in front of my brother who’d no doubt tease me mercilessly. I don’t care because I feel that same happiness too.

  Freedom stops in front of me. “Fancy meeting you here,” she says, making those around us laugh.

  I shrug. “I had nowhere else to be,” I tell her with a wink as I reach for her hand.

  “Damn right, you didn’t.” She shifts the flowers to her left and takes my hand with her right, and together, we turn to face the minister.

  The ceremony is quick, but it feels amazing to repeat our vows, especially in light of the fact, I don’t exactly remember them the first time. Even though I listen to what he says, my eyes are only for her. She truly looks stunning today, on our wedding day.

  Rewedding day, as Freedom likes to call it.

  The moment the minister pronounces us man and wife, I pull her into my arms and kiss her. It’s probably not a church-appropriate kiss, but I don’t care. She’s my wife, and there’s nothing I want more than to seal this moment with a kiss. As I pull away, my left hand, the one with my wedding ring, drops to her belly. It’s still flat, but we could see in the ultrasound we had three days ago that our peanut is getting bigger every day.

  Freedom hasn’t had any more episodes of passing out or getting dizzy. We make sure she’s well hydrated, and thanks to only minor nausea, she’s eating like a champ. She still works too many jobs, I’m just happy to report she has scaled back on them. She still massages a few of her regular clients, as well as continues to be a Reiki practitioner (still don’t really know what that means), but she’s stepped back from Kiss Me Goodnight, only working as a backup for the backups. She’s also still working part time at the funeral home, which I love because then I can keep an eye on her. And besides the times she completely disorganizes my filing system (which she does regularly), I love working beside her.

  We make a great team.

  After the ceremony, we take a few pictures on the beach, but we’re both anxious to go up to the backyard of the bed and breakfast. There, we have tables and chairs set up and enough food to feed half the tow
n. When Mom and Marissa begged to make the meal, we had no idea they’d go all out. They even whipped up a big selection of desserts in place of the traditional wedding cake. Freedom’s eyes glazed over as she saw the spread, so I’m happy.

  Happy wife, happy life.

  It was laid-back and casual, but most importantly, everyone who means anything to us is here, celebrating right alongside us. “Ready to eat some food, Mrs. Grayson?”

  “Hell to the yeah,” Freedom bellows as she eyes the varieties of food laid out for us.

  I lead my wife to the tables of food, grab two plates, and watch with delight as she starts piling on the food. I’m surprised as she takes a small scoop of beef tips, mainly because she doesn’t eat meat. She must see the shocked look on my face because she holds the spoon up and says, “Baby wants beef.”

  I hold up the hand not holding the plate in surrender. “Sweetheart, you eat whatever you want, though I do have to say, I’m worried your system might not like it since you haven’t had it in forever.” I actually read an article online recently where a woman took several years off from eating red meat and then the moment she did, her body rejected it. Violently.

  She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t care. I’ve been smelling these bad boys for the last fifteen minutes. Besides, if I get sick later, you’ll be there to hold my hair again, just like last time.”

  I stop and look her way. “You got sick last time?” Since I barely remember anything about our first wedding, I had no idea she was ill.

  “We both did, Sammy. Why do you think we ended up in the shower?”

  I pull a face, but she doesn’t seem to care, just continues to place food on her plate. I follow behind, taking a little bit of everything, since my mom and sister are the best cooks I know. “To answer your question, yes, I’ll hold your hair later.”

  She stops at the front of the line, not even caring that she’s holding everyone up. “What if I don’t actually get sick? Will you still hold my hair?” Freedom wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, which makes my cock jump in my pants.

  “Nothing beats a good hairpulling from behind, right?”

  I gasp and turn, noticing for the first time Aunt Emma standing right behind me.

  “Oh, wedding nights are special. Everyone thinks you need sweet lovemaking with missionary positions.”

  “Stop talking,” I beg, but Freedom leans forward, all ears at whatever Emma is about to say.

  “But that’s not true, right, Orvie? On our wedding night, he took me hard from behind with his hands pulling my hair like he paid for it.”

  I gasp as Freedom chuckles.

  “She kept that long hair for decades for a reason,” Uncle Orval says loud enough to draw the attention of half our guests.

  “Anyway, my point is, we all know it’s not your first time having the sex, because you’re already knocked up, but just because it’s your second wedding night doesn’t mean you can’t get dirty and have some fun,” Emma says, nodding along as if giving the world’s best advice known to man.

  “Please, stop,” I beg, but my wife steps in front of me, her plate overflowing with food.

  “No, I totally want that. Sammy, you’re pulling my hair later!” she hollers, making Emma smile widely.

  “Good,” Emma replies, grabbing her food and heading toward their table. “Oh, and, Samuel?” I’m almost afraid to look her way, but I do. “You can thank me later for the wedding night gift.” With a wink, she turns and walks away, leaving us standing at the food table and wondering, what the hell they bought us.

  “Come on, Sammy. Baby and I are starved,” Freedom says, pulling my thoughts away from what is sure to be a completely inappropriate gift from my aunt and uncle.

  After dinner, Jensen stands up and toasts us as husband and wife, even though we’ve already held those titles for two months. My family has done everything to make this the wedding we missed out on and the celebration we deserve, including stringing white lights from the big oak trees and playing music. All and all, it’s the perfect day.

  I’m standing off to the side, chatting with Levi, Linkin, and Ryan when Freedom comes up and wraps her arms around my waist. My own arm instantly goes to her shoulder, pulling her to me and breathing her in. “Hey, holding up okay?” I ask, always worried about her overdoing it.

  “I’m great,” she says, holding up a cannoli. “I was able to snatch the last one of these bad boys before Max got to it.”

  I laugh, picturing her grabbing the treat before our nephew. “I’m glad you were able to steal it from the clutches of a five-year-old.”

  She snorts. “Right?” she says, as she drops it on the ground. “Shitballs.” Freedom drops to her knees in the grass and scoops up the dessert. Before she stands back up, her eyes lock in on my shoes.

  “What? Did I step in something?” The thought makes me cringe.

  Freedom reaches over with her cream-cheese filling covered hands and grabs my pant leg, ripping them up and exposing my socks. “Oh my God! You’re wearing the socks!” she bellows with a huge smile on her face.

  I glance down, trying to shake my leg, much like I did all those months ago in the funeral home. “Get up, Freedom. People will get the wrong idea,” I tell her, noticing how everyone is smiling over at us. Freedom is on her knees in front of me, and I can only envision the image it creates.

  “You love me,” she coos, smiling at the sex position socks she got me for my birthday last summer.

  When she stands up, I take her in my arms, careful to avoid the cream cheese mess she has made, and place my lips to hers. It takes all the control I possess to not deepen the kiss the way I want to. The way I intend to later this evening when we’re alone.

  I look down at my wife, and feel the waves of contentment and joy wash over me. “And you love me.”

  If you were to tell me I’d someday find myself married to the one woman who has the ability to drive me mad, I’d have argued you were a liar. But here I am, against all odds, married to the woman who completes me, who drives me crazy, who sees my flaws and loves me despite them. The woman who carries my child, and will, hopefully, one day give me more. My polar opposite.

  Freedom.

  My love.

  Another Epilogue

  Mary Ann

  “Good evening, Mary Ann.”

  I turn in my seat to find Stan Phillips, the minister who married my son just a few short hours ago, standing behind me. “Stan, so good to see you again,” I tell him, taking his offered hand.

  I’ll be honest, I’ve only seen the man a handful of times in the last few years. Word on the street was if he wasn’t at the church with his congregation, he was home, taking care of his ailing wife. Grace Phillips passed away last year after a lengthy battle with ovarian cancer. Her story actually reminds me of my niece’s story. Even though I didn’t know Trish, Orval and Emma have shared enough to create a lasting, loving impression of their daughter in my eyes.

  He points to the chair beside me. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” I tell him before taking a nervous sip of the red wine in my glass.

  “You look well,” he says with a small smile, and I’m suddenly grateful for the darkened backyard to help hide my blush.

  “Oh, uh, thank you.”

  “You have a beautiful home here,” he adds, looking around and smiling as we watch my children visit and carry on with their cousins.

  “Thank you. I apologize for not coming to church lately. I don’t get away from the house often.”

  Stan chuckles. “Mary Ann, you haven’t been to church in about fourteen years,” he says, his eyes dancing with delight.

  His eyes. I don’t know why I’ve never really noticed them before. They’re this beautiful shade of hazel. A mix of green and gold that makes my heart skip a beat. And his dark hair has definitely grayed since the last time I saw him. He has that whole salt-and-pepper thing down, and all I can think about is how handsome he looks in his pressed shirt and black
dress slacks. I glance down, feeling that blush spread up my cheeks. “Oh, uh, yeah. It has been quite a while.”

  Stan waves his hand dismissively. “I didn’t come over here to badger you about coming to church, Mary Ann.”

  The way he says my name, it does weird things in my chest. Things I haven’t felt in…well, forever. Clearing my throat, I ask, “Oh? Why did you come over here?” Then I feel like a real heel. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” I insist.

  Stan just smiles at me. “Would you like to have coffee with me sometime?”

  Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.

  I sit up a little straighter in my chair as I gaze back at him in surprise. “Yes,” I tell him before I even have time to really consider his offer. The truth of the matter is I do want to have coffee with him. I’d love to catch up and have adult conversation with an individual of the opposite sex, who isn’t someone I’m related to or a guest in my home. Stan’s smile is warm and friendly, and when flashed my way, makes me feel like a young schoolgirl again with a crush.

  He leans forward in his chair. “Is tomorrow too soon? I have a luncheon after church, but then I’ll be free around two. We could meet at the café on Main Street?”

  “Sounds perfect. I’d like that.” And I realize I would very much enjoy a coffee date with Stan Phillips.

  Wait. Is this a date?

  “Perfect. I can’t wait,” he says as he reaches out and places his palm on my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. All sorts of heat rushes through my body. It’s foreign, yet familiar, and makes me feel so very alive.

  “Me either,” I confess with a smile.

  He clears his throat again and glances around. “So, did I hear you made all of those treats on the table?”

  Smiling proudly, I reply, “I did, with the assistance of my youngest daughter. She’s more of the baker than I am, but together, we make a great team.”

  “Care to escort me up there? You can show me which ones are your favorites.” Stan stands up and extends his hand. There’s no hesitation as I place my palm against his and rise.