by A. D. Ryan
Nah. We probably won’t do that last one. That just feels wrong.
I laugh quietly to myself, because the fact that I’ve got this going through my head is a little silly. I mean, Greyston hasn’t even proposed, and here I am, at someone else’s wedding, wondering about my own, even though it’s years away from happening. Is that normal?
As I’m looking around the room some more, trying to catch another glimpse of Greyston in his sexy tux, I spot Xander entering with a certain five-foot-tall, dark-haired co-ed on his arm. I wave at them from my aisle seat, and they make their way over, sitting in the two empty seats next to Daniel.
“Hey,” I greet happily. “How’ve you guys been?”
Now that school is out, Daphne and I haven’t seen too much of each other in the last two weeks. We talk and text all the time, but I’d been so busy trying to fit in as much quality time with my parents, Greyston’s parents, and—of course—Greyston, that we’d been unable to coordinate a proper girls’ day.
Not to mention, Daphne had been spending a lot of her spare time with Xander. A lot.
“Everything’s good,” Daphne replies in a chipper voice.
We sit and visit for a few more minutes before the music changes, and a hush falls over the crowd. One look behind me tells me we’re getting started as Toby starts to make his way down the aisle. Once he’s in place, the white-curtained French doors behind the seated crowd opens, and each groomsman steps out with a stunning bridesmaid, dressed in a flowing lavender gown, on their arm.
The blonde on Greyston’s arm momentarily brings out my inner green-eyed monster, but when I notice his eyes are locked on me, and he smiles my smile, I relax and wink at him. He chuckles lightly as he passes, and Josephine reaches across and pats my shoulder.
When the bridal party has reached their destination at the altar, Toby’s adorable five-year-old twin cousins emerge. The little girl is dressed in an adorable knee-length white dress, a blue satin bow tied around her ribs, and the little boy is dressed in a smaller version of the guys’ tuxes. They’re so cute, and it makes me wonder about our wedding again—there must be something in the air. Will we wait that long to get married?
The music shifts into the traditional wedding march, and all of the guests stand up, turning toward the French doors where Callie enters, her parents on either side of her as they make their way down the aisle.
The ceremony is beautiful, and I find myself unexpectedly emotional when they exchange their vows. I never cry at weddings, and here I am, trying not to snot-sob all over my new dress. Apparently falling in love has turned me into a bit of a sap—not that I’m complaining.
After the ceremony, Callie and Toby have a photo session lined up while the staff and her wedding planner transform the room into a banquet hall for dinner. I hang out with Daphne, Xander, and Greyston’s parents and watch as the wedding party is photographed. The minute he announces that the groomsmen and bridesmaids are free to go, Greyston finds his way to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me softly.
“Hello, handsome,” I greet, pretending to straighten his already-perfect blue tie.
He smiles. “Hello, yourself, gorgeous.” His hands grip my hips, his thumbs running over the smooth fabric of my dress, and he lowers his head, his lips brushing my ear. “I still can’t get over how amazing you look in this dress. It’s taking everything I have in me not to drag you back to the car and do ungodly things to your body.”
A shiver rocks through my body and goosebumps race across my skin despite the dry, summer heat. “That sounds kind of hot,” I whisper, trying to keep from laughing. “Especially with the weather the way it is. I can’t imagine it would be too comfortable. It’s going to be like an oven in there.”
Laughing, Greyston kisses my neck once more and stands up straight, looking me in the eye. “All right, well if you have any better ideas…”
I smile coyly. “There’s a pretty cozy-looking back room inside.” The look on his face tells me he’s seriously considering this, and while I would have absolutely no objections, given how unbelievable he looks in his tux, I shake my head. “Easy, stud. If we escape now, we’re bound to get caught, and I doubt Callie would be too forgiving.”
“You’re right,” he acquiesces. “Well, will you at least join me for a walk? We’ve got a bit of time to kill before the reception.”
“I would love that.”
For the next hour and a bit, Greyston and I walk hand-in-hand around the hall. There’s a little park nearby where a few of the kids from the wedding are playing, and Greyston and I stop there. I flop down onto an available swing, and Greyston proceeds to push me. I’m pretty sure he’s purposefully grabbing my ass every time he goes to push, but when I call him on it, he feigns innocence.
A squeal of delight catches my attention, and I see Toby’s twin cousins come running over with their parents hot on their trails. The dark-haired boy heads straight for the jungle gym, his mother yelling after him to be careful to not get dirty, while the little girl stops a few feet from the swings, the look on her face falling when she realizes they’re all full.
I drag my feet in the sand, stopping the swing and hopping off. When she sees me offering it to her, her smile returns, and she bolts toward me. “Thank you!” she exclaims, hopping onto the seat and holding on. “Will you push me?”
“Jilly,” her mother says sternly.
“Please,” Jilly amends apologetically. “Will you push me, please?”
I look to where her mother stands, and she smiles, nodding, and I grip the chains at Jilly’s hips. “I would love to.”
Greyston stays nearby while I push Jilly on the swings. She’s absolutely loving it, laughing and squealing happily as her dark brown curls fly out behind her. “Higher! Higher!” she requests, and I oblige only too willingly.
When her mother tells her and her brother, Justin, that it’s time to head back, she isn’t shy about letting the world know she’s disappointed. In an effort to save her mother the temper tantrum, I lean down to her level and say, “You know, I’m a friend of Toby and Callie’s, too. Maybe you and I could play later. What do you say?”
This seems to make her happy, and she throws her arms around my neck unexpectedly before chasing after her parents and brother. When I stand up, Greyston takes my hand and he draws it up to his lips. “You were really sweet with her.”
We head back to the hall, and when we walk in, the place is almost unrecognizable. The chairs now surround tables that weren’t there before, and new lights and drapery adorn the tables and walls. It’s so whimsical and romantic.
It’s no surprise that the dinner is as elegant as it is delicious, and the wine is amazing—maybe even more-so since I’m very newly twenty-one and can legally drink it now. I raise my hand to the diamond necklace Greyston gave me that gorgeous day in February and smile fondly. He’d gone above and beyond to make my twenty-first birthday special.
We’d begun our day with a morning swim before getting ready for the birthday dinner he had planned. Our parents and friends had come over to enjoy a delicious meal and cake. Then came presents—even though I told everyone that they weren’t necessary. Mom and Dad got me a new laptop for school after hearing that mine was out of commission—I chose to leave the rest of the story about how I found out it was broken out of the conversation, naturally. Daphne took me for lunch and shopping a few days later, and she helped me pick out the dress I’m wearing now. Greyston’s parents bought Greyston and I tickets to Vegas. I know. It was extravagant and generous, and while I felt like it was too much, I admit, I’m excited for us to go in just a few weeks.
Then there was Greyston. He’d actually given me my necklace that morning. He said he just couldn’t wait the rest of the day—he’s not usually so impatient. The large square-cut stone is set in a white gold setting and hangs from a thin chain, falling delicately in the hollow of my throat. It’s the most beautiful piece of jewelry I own, and I wear it every chance I get.
When dinner concludes, the dance begins. Callie and Toby look so undeniably in love as they dance around the floor, and it stuns me how light Toby is on his feet, because he just doesn’t strike me as the ballroom dancing type.
Soon enough, the dance floor is full, and I think Greyston is about to ask me to dance when I feel a tiny hand wrap around my wrist. Looking over, I see the big brown eyes of one Miss Jilly. She’s got the biggest smile on her face, and it’s hard not to mirror her expression.
“Hi, there,” I say, leaning over.
“Will you come dance with me?” she asks sweetly.
I look over at Greyston, who’s grinning broadly, and he nods. “You don’t mind?” I inquire.
I can tell by the gleam in his eyes that he doesn’t, but I just want to be sure. In fact, not only does he seem to not mind, he seems amazed and full of admiration and wonder. Jilly leads me to the dance floor, and soon her brother and several other children join us. We’re dancing away—and I use the term loosely, because none of us are really dancing. I don’t know how long we’re on the floor for, but several other kids and adults have joined us including Callie, Daphne, Toby, and Xander. I look around, wondering where Greyston is, when I feel his arms around my waist and his lips next to my ear.
“Mind if I steal you away for a minute?” he asks, and I nod.
I tell Jilly I’ll see her later, but she’s having so much fun that she doesn’t seem to notice. I leave the group, Greyston taking my hand and pulling me from the dance floor and toward the main entry. It doesn’t surprise me that he turns right instead of left, pulling me into the back room I mentioned earlier, because I sensed the heavy sexual undertones in his request a moment ago.
The second the door is closed, Greyston leans me against it, pressing his body to mine until not even a whisper of air can be found between us. The warmth of his lips as they kiss their way up the column of my throat makes me moan, and I twist my fingers into his recently-cut hair to draw his mouth to mine. Our kiss deepens quickly, the passion in the room thick, and his hands start to roam over the soft blue fabric of my dress until he’s palming my breasts. His fingertips curl just over the plunging neckline until they brush my skin, and I arch into his touch.
Frantically, I begin to force his tux jacket over his shoulders, and he breaks contact with my chest only long enough to remove the jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair. His right hand finds my breast again, while his left one wanders down the length of my body and grabs my knee. He hitches it up over his hip until I can feel how aroused he is. Excitement shoots through my body, manifesting itself as a dull hum beneath my skin that seems to be most concentrated in my right thigh—the one that’s currently wrapped around Greyston’s body.
It isn’t until the sensation stops and then starts again moments later that Greyston pulls his face from mine and chuckles. “I think you’re thigh’s vibrating,” he teases, letting my leg fall back to the floor as he reaches for my hip and gently tugs on the pocket of my dress.
My phone. Of course.
Still breathing heavily, I grab my phone from my pocket—the biggest selling feature of the dress—and notice that it’s my mom. Before she gets put through to my voicemail, I answer it. “Hello? Mom?”
“Oh, good!” she exclaims, sounding just as breathless as I am…which leads me to a horrifying conclusion that makes me shudder. “I didn’t think I’d get you, what with the two of youuuuuu…” It startles me when she stops mid sentence, dragging the word “you” out and having it escalate into a cry of severe discomfort.
“Mom?” I demand, feeling my forehead pull up with worry. “What’s going on?”
She takes several deep breaths, releasing them slowly, and in the background I can hear my father talking her through whatever’s going on. Before I can inquire further, she says, “We’re headed to the hospital, sweetheart. I was just going to leave a message since we knew you were at the wedding.”
“Ohmygod!” I exclaim, looking at Greyston as my mouth turns up into a wide smile. When his own look of worry transforms into a knowing smile, he reaches for the doorknob behind me. “We’re on our way.”
“Oh, no,” she says calmly. “Don’t worry about that. We can see you tomorrow, honey.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! We’ll be there as soon as we can.” I hang up the phone just as Mom goes into another horrifically painful-sounding contraction, and Greyston and I head off to find Toby and Callie. They’re with Greyston’s parents, so we’re able to them all at once before we leave the reception hall and drive to the hospital.
After finding a parking spot, Greyston and I rush into the hospital hand-in-hand. The woman at the main desk directs us to the maternity floor. Greyston and I wait a ridiculously long time for the elevator to arrive, and an even longer amount of time for it to reach the third floor. Okay, so it’s probably a completely reasonable amount of time, but my excitement seems to be drawing everything out a little longer than normal.
As soon as we’re off the elevator, we speed-walk down the hall toward the nurses’ station, passing a few women walking around in hospital gowns, their significant others at their sides and rubbing their backs when they keel over in what looks like an excruciating contraction.
“I’m looking for Anne and Cam Foster,” I announce to the nurse behind the desk, drawing her attention from the computer to me.
She offers me a bright smile. “You must be Juliette. Your parents are expecting you and asked me to send you both right in when you arrived. They’re in room 305.”
Not wanting to waste another second, Greyston and I scoot down the hall and open the door marked 305. It would figure the scene we walk in on isn’t completely expected, especially considering I tend to have the worst timing on the planet when it comes to visiting my parents. Apparently having a baby doesn’t change this.
“Oh, god!” I cry out, grinding to a halt just inside the door as I take in the scene in front of me: Mom is sitting on an incline on the bed with her legs up in the stirrups as the man I assume is her doctor and my father are investigating what’s going on down in ladytown.
Greyston slams into my back, pushing me forward another step. When he registers what’s going on, I immediately turn around, pushing on his chest and trying to cover his eyes. I know it’s already too late, though. You can’t unsee that shit. Trust me. I know.
“We’ll, uh, be outside,” I stammer, shutting the door behind us and pressing my forehead to the cool hospital wall. “That was…” I shudder before turning to look at Greyston, whose eyes are so wide he resembles a deer in headlights. I laugh, because it is kind of funny now—horrifying, yes, but still a little funny. “I’m so sorry.”
He blinks a couple times, shaking his head, possibly in an attempt to shake the memory of my mother’s vag from his brain. It won’t be that easy, believe me. “It’s…” He clears his throat and smooths his dress shirt, pretending to be unaffected. Yeah, right. “I’m fine. That was nothing.”
I don’t have the heart to call him on it. He has every right to try to repress that, so I nod in agreement. Before I can suggest we go to the waiting room, the door opens and the doctor steps out, smiling.
“Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “Your mother is asking for you.” He must sense our unease, because he laughs gently. “It’s safe, I assure you.”
Slowly, Greyston and I make our way to the door and push it open. As the doctor said, she’s completely covered up. Dad is next to her, holding her hand and talking to her, his forehead pressed to hers and their eyes closed. It’s an innocently intimate moment, and it tugs at my heartstrings. One thing I’ve come to appreciate over the years is how undeniably in love my parents are after over two decades together. Sure, that comes with a few less than awesome memories of the two of them caught in the heat of the moment, but I’ll gladly take the mental hit several times for witnessing just one moment like this.
The door clicks softly, drawing my parents’ eyes to us, and they both smile infectiou
sly. I cross the room and throw my arms around my mom, her tears of happiness dripping onto my bare shoulder. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re both here!” she exclaims. “Sorry about what you walked in on.”
I laugh, feeling my own tears of happiness stinging my eyes. “That’s okay,” I assure her, pushing her hair from her slightly damp forehead. “It’s surprisingly not the worst thing I’ve walked in on the two of you doing.”
Yeah, I can joke about it a little now. Just a little, though.
Dad snickers. “I didn’t think this would be all that fascinating,” he admits, confusing me. “Well, when you were born, it was rare that a father was in the room. I didn’t know about half the stuff that goes on. Then there were the books…”
“Books?” I question, knowing my shock is plainly written all over my face. “You read pregnancy books?”
“It’s all very fascinating,” he says, flooring me further. “Makes me regret not forcing my way into the delivery room when you were born.”
This conversation is both sweet and awkward, but I focus on the sweet.
Greyston and I stay with Mom and Dad a bit longer, long enough to witness several contractions. I ask my mom why she’s chosen not to take the epidural, but she’s a proud woman who “did this once before without drugs, and she’ll do it again.”
Personally, I’m getting the drugs when I’m in this position. You bet. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
The doctor comes in, and Greyston and I step out again, not needing to have a repeat moment of when we’d first arrived. This time, when he emerges, he directs us to the waiting room, telling us it’s time for my mom to have a baby. I’m nervous, excited, and just a little bit scared. I’m once again reminded of her age and how there are more risks involved. It’s all I can think about as I pace nervously in the waiting room.