Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  “Nice of you to join us, Detective Nolan.”

  Luke didn’t insult her with a half-assed excuse as he slid into a chair across the table from Sloane.

  “Let’s start with the disturbance call at City Hall last week. Officer Sloane, you want to give the summation?”

  Sloane flipped open a manila file folder. “The call came in at 11:15 p.m. when a dispute over payment of the DJ broke out at a work retirement party. I arrived at City Hall at 11:29 p.m. to find a crowd of approximately thirty people gathered on the front lawn. I placed a call for backup; Detective Nolan arrived at 11:49 p.m. The dispute was between the DJ and the employee in charge of organizing the event, with several individuals in attendance joining in. Detective Nolan and I calmed the crowd, and when we ran licenses, the DJ’s came back with an outstanding warrant for arrest. I took the suspect into custody without incident. At this time, the case has been turned over to the prosecutor’s office and arraignment is set for next Wednesday.”

  Luke listened in silence to Sloane’s account of events.

  “Anything to add, Detective Nolan?” Chief asked.

  “No, nothing. Officer Sloane’s summary is complete.”

  All except for one tiny detail. A detail no one but Luke knew.

  When Luke and Sloane had approached the milling crowd, several men shouted insults at one another. Tempers were running high and a violent tension infused the air.

  Then, a sudden flash of movement had caught Luke’s eye. The instinct that’d saved his ass too many times to count in his ten-year career screamed at him and he’d whirled in the direction of the disturbance.

  His body reacted to visual confirmation of the gun before his mind fully assessed the situation. He would draw his weapon first and neutralize the threat before it struck. He almost did it, too, but for the slightest hesitation wherein his mind caught up with his instinct.

  Not a man, but a child.

  Not a gun, but a replica.

  A motherfucking toy, cradled in the tiny hands of a young boy.

  Luke stood with his hand on his weapon while waves of horror and shame poured over him. Drowning him.

  He’d been a heartbeat from shooting a child. An unarmed boy.

  The report didn’t include his break of focus, his misstep in procedure, nor his nearly fatal mistake.

  In the days since, he’d tried talking himself out of a downward spiral of self-loathing. It was a heated dispute. Near midnight. Why was a child even there, wide awake and running around playing pretend? Nothing about the situation made sense, so how could his reaction to it?

  “While I have you both here…” Chief Brown broke into his thoughts. “I want to let you know we’re finally able to move forward with filling the position.”

  The ball of dread in the pit of Luke’s stomach gave a hard wrench. He hadn’t minded the delay to the job search while the county argued over funding for the department.

  Cynthia placed her hands on the table in front of her. “We’ve reviewed applications and will be contacting both of you to schedule interviews in the next couple of weeks. I look forward to discussing the position with each of you.”

  He forced a plastic smile onto his face and pushed to his feet. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

  Without acknowledging Sloane’s peevish scowl, Luke left the conference room. He didn’t give a shit about the job just then. Though maybe he’d earned the chance to broaden his role in the island’s force, he couldn’t spend time thinking about a new position. He needed to stay focused on the moment before him, and not give in to the worry of more assignments, more responsibility, more doubt and despair and death.

  Always death.

  All he wanted was to get through the damned day and return to the inn.

  To her.

  Emily collapsed onto Luke’s couch.

  His studio apartment, housed in an old warehouse, had exposed brick walls and a warm wood floor and ceiling. The room was long and narrow, with a small kitchen at one end, followed by a dining table, a living area, and at the far end, a bed rested before the patio doors. Outside, his beachfront property offered a breathtaking view of the harbor.

  Her eyes closed, she tried to recall ever feeling so exhausted. She couldn’t. The sound of running water from the bathroom where Luke was taking a shower lulled her.

  He’d stopped at the inn on his way home from work just as Max and the gang were set to shoot a scene in the foyer. A disagreement about lighting quickly broke out between Max and Honey. They fought like mortal enemies, or as Luke described it, siblings.

  So Luke and Emily decided to escape to his loft for a few hours.

  The bathroom door swung open and she lifted her head as Luke appeared in a cloud of steam from the shower. A towel was wrapped around his lean waist, and his hair stood on end from a hasty rub. He disappeared in the walk-in closet at the far end of the loft and emerged dressed in a sky-blue T-shirt and dark blue jeans.

  “You hungry?” he asked. “I’m going to make some dinner.”

  Her stomach let loose an angry growl. “I’m starving.”

  She dragged her weary body off the sofa and settled on a stool at the kitchen counter.

  A soft smile teased over his lips. “You sound surprised.”

  “I am. This is the first time I’ve felt hungry in a while.” The slight queasiness had persisted for weeks.

  He set a skillet on the stove and turned the heat on low. Then he retrieved a cutting board from the drawer and attacked an onion with expert skill.

  “Thanks for letting me hang out here again tonight,” she said. “It’s chaos at m-my house.”

  “How is the film going?” He diced the onion into tiny bits. “Any zombies popped out at you yet?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sort of. Yesterday, I walked right through the middle of a scene. I thought they were taking a lunch break, but I guess they’re using different foods for blood and internal organs.”

  “Sounds appetizing.” He sliced into a green pepper. “I see Max and Honey are still going at it.”

  At times, it got to be too much for Emily. Max had a short temper and when he went off, the urge to hide, as she had whenever Harrison started to yell, overwhelmed. After the yelling, came the hitting.

  “I could do with less fighting, and I could do without Will’s cologne. The smell makes me want to gag.”

  An odd expression chased across his features, but he said nothing.

  Later that night, after they’d returned to the inn to sleep, she dreamed of charred meat and mayonnaise. Her stomach gave a sickening wrench that roused her from sleep. Luke lay by her side, his broad, bare chest facing her. By the deep, even rhythm of his breathing, she knew he slept.

  Her stomach roiled and sweat beaded on her forehead. Shaken and disoriented, she closed her eyes.

  Another wave of nausea hit her. She kicked off the covers and lurched from the bed. In the darkness, she stumbled to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and dropped to her knees before the toilet, ill.

  After, she flushed and sat back on the cold tile floor. She laid her head on her trembling arms and dragged air into her lungs while tears streamed down her face.

  There was a soft, cursory knock on the bathroom door before it opened and Luke stepped into the small space. He knelt beside her on the floor and ran a hand over the crown of her head.

  “Sorry to w-wake you.”

  “Don’t be.” Without turning on the bathroom light, he retrieved a washcloth from the cupboard, wet it in the pedestal sink, and lay it over the heated skin on the back of her neck. Tendrils of her hair stuck to her damp skin. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and rubbed a hand up and down her spine.

  When she was certain the nausea had passed, she sat back on her heels. “I think I’m okay now.” She removed the cloth from her neck and wiped her face. “I thought I’d finally kicked this flu bug.”

  He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and peered into her face. He was sl
eep-rumpled, but alert.

  Concern etched his features. “Do you want to come back to bed?”

  She nodded, so he took her hand and helped her to stand.

  At the cabinet, he withdrew the mouthwash and poured a capful. She used it, and then followed him to the bed on weak legs. He pulled back the covers and she crawled in. When he stretched out beside her, she turned toward him and buried her face in the hollow where his shoulder met neck, like a sick child seeking comfort.

  His cheek rested against her forehead and his fingers toyed with the hair at her temples.

  Soon, exhaustion reached out to claim her once more.

  “Hey, Em?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is there any chance you’re pregnant?”

  Her eyes shot open in the dark.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She’d been locked in the bathroom for a long time. Too long.

  At first light, she’d slipped from the bed and snuck out of the inn, returning twenty minutes later with coffee and muffins from the bakery downtown. She then faked her way through a stilted conversation with him about the driving conditions of the roads before disappearing into the bathroom with her purse.

  As if he didn’t know what she was up to.

  He turned from the patio doors. The bathroom door remained shut.

  He knew she was taking a pregnancy test.

  He also knew what it would say.

  Despite the life-altering ramifications, or maybe because of it, a calm contentment settled over him. With a last look at the whitecaps churning toward shore, he turned away from the landscape and crossed to the bathroom door.

  He knocked. “Em, are you all right?”

  Nothing.

  He tried the knob and the door gave way.

  She sat on the toilet lid, staring down at the white stick in her hand. He eased into the small space and perched on the edge of the bathtub.

  Huge brown eyes clamped on his face. “I’m s-s-so sorry.”

  He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “This isn’t your fault. Not solely.”

  “I don’t understand how this happened.” She tossed the stick in the trash. “I’m on the pill. We used condoms.”

  “Not every time.”

  “Because I’m on the pill.” Her voice pitched higher.

  “Maybe you forgot to take one?” he asked gently.

  “No, never.” She shook her head. “I take it every night wh-wh-when I br-brush my-my-my teeth. I’ve never m-m-missed.”

  He grasped the back of her neck and kneaded the tight muscles. “I don’t know, Em. Maybe when you were sick—”

  The color leeched from her face.

  He pushed her head between her knees. “Breathe.”

  She sucked sharp inhalations in through her nose and pushed out short puffs of air through her lips.

  “Good girl.” He relaxed his hold.

  She bolted upright. “I can’t have a b-baby. I don’t know anything about b-babies.”

  “No one knows anything about babies until they’re responsible for one.”

  “I’ve never been responsible for one. Wh-what if I hurt it or-or-or break it.” A broken sob tore from her. “I don’t know how to take care of a b-baby.”

  He shoved her head back down. “You’ve got to breathe, sweetheart.”

  Air wheezed in and out.

  “Taking care of the baby is the easy part.” He eased his hold on her neck. “It’s rough at first, but once you figure them out, it’s not so bad.”

  She shot up. “How do you know that? Do you have kids?”

  “Don’t you think I would’ve mentioned if I had kids? I’m an uncle, and I lived with my brother and his wife until their firstborn was five years old.”

  “Oh.” But the panic had taken hold and her eyes glistened. “I spent the last nine years taking care of my mom. I’m not ready to do it again.”

  “It’s not the same thing.” He took her hands between his and tugged so that she met his gaze. “Watching a baby grow bigger, stronger, brighter every day is not the same thing as watching someone you love die. It just isn’t.”

  One tear spilled down her cheek. “I don’t know anything about being someone’s mom. What if I can’t do this, Luke?”

  He wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb. Her panic softened his heart. How could she not be a great mom?

  “You can,” he said. “You will. It’s going to be okay.”

  “How do you know that?” Her voice broke over the words.

  “It’s a baby, and a baby is never a bad thing.”

  That pierced the fog of her panic. “Wh-what’s the hard part?”

  He wrestled with her question a moment.

  “You said the b-baby’s the easy part. Wh-what’s the hard part?”

  A shiver of unease rippled through him. He shrugged. “We are.”

  She blinked at him and he could see the gears of her mind working. “Omigod, we’re stuck with each other.” Her eyes grew huge. “For the rest of our lives. W-We’ll n-never be rid of o-one another.”

  “That’s not exactly what I—”

  “W-We’ll always have to know each other. We’ll have to see each other, like, every day.”

  A satisfied calm spread through him. “Yes, we will.”

  “W-We’ll have to watch each other date other people. M-marry other people. Have b-babies with other people.”

  His good mood vanished.

  “Why aren’t you freaking out about this?” Her shrill voice echoed around the small space.

  He gripped her hand again. “Because we got this. We’ll do it together. Trust me.”

  “I broke the egg.” She bit her lip on the outburst.

  “You what?”

  “The egg. In high school. You know, the class where they make you carry it around for a week? I broke it.”

  He gaped at her a moment. “That’s… I mean, it’s an egg—”

  “Omigod, omigod, omigod.” She bent over, tucking her head between her own legs. “I’m going to kill our baby.”

  He smoothed a hand over her back. “You’re not going to kill our baby.”

  She jerked upright. “How do you know that?” Her voice reached shrill heights.

  “Because I won’t let you. We’re in this together now.” He brushed a wisp of her hair away from her temple. “We’re a family.”

  Her eyes gripped his, as if he were her only life raft in a raging sea.

  She swallowed with difficulty. “Luke?”

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Sleep eluded him. Tucked into his side, Emily slept, her soft snores tickling over the bare skin under his arm.

  Restless, he left her bed and padded into the dark kitchen. At the off chance she’d stashed a bottle of whiskey somewhere, he searched her cupboards. No luck. He let a cupboard door fall shut and turned.

  He stifled a startled yelp.

  Noah and Mina sat at the kitchen island, twin bowls on the counter before them.

  Noah finished chewing and swallowed. “Lose something?”

  Throwing off his annoyance at coming up empty-handed, his gaze searched for a suitable answer and landed on the box of cereal between them on the counter. “My Cocoa Puffs.” He filched a bowl and a spoon from the cupboard and plopped onto a stool.

  Mina slid the milk jug across to him. “Is Emily, um, sleeping?”

  “Yep.” He crunched on a spoonful of chocolate balls.

  He could practically hear his sister-in-law’s mind gnawing on her thoughts. The cousins had much in common. Loud minds and faces that gave away their every thought and emotion.

  She tried to catch Noah’s eye.

  Noah ignored her.

  She set down her spoon and clasped her hands together. “So, Luke, you and Emily—”

  “Are getting married.” The words slipped from him like smooth whiskey.

  “What?” Dual expressions of i
ncredulity gaped at him.

  Luke didn’t bother to take offense.

  “She didn’t say anything to me,” Mina said, her mouth screwing into a frown.

  Noah was less tactful. “Did she actually agree to marry you?”

  Luke sniffed. She needed a little time to adjust before he moved forward with his plan. “I haven’t told her yet.”

  “Told her?” Mina’s jaw hung open. “What if she says no?”

  His heart hammered against his breastbone. “She won’t.”

  Luke’s gaze slid to Noah. Explanations floated through his mind, but nothing emerged that didn’t make him sound old-fashioned or barbaric. The brothers’ gazes held.

  He wouldn’t leave Emily on her own to raise their child. Nor would he leave the parenting of his kid up to whatever man she decided to marry one day in the future. And he sure as shit wouldn’t leave his child to face the cruelties of this godforsaken world alone, without their dad around to defend them.

  Not. Fucking. Happening.

  But the fact was, he wanted to marry her. She was completely unlike the other women he’d dated, and somehow, that made her perfect.

  He liked her. He liked being around her. The sex was phenomenal. He wouldn’t have to worry about her deceiving him, and he’d get the chance to spend the rest of his life spoiling her. Though he might never erase the wounds her shitty dad had inflicted, he’d relish the opportunity to try.

  Of course, he didn’t deserve her, not yet, and he’d have to be careful not to let the ugly parts of his soul touch her. But once he figured out how to make the nightmares stop, he’d be able to find the strength to power through the darkness inside him. Then he’d be the guy he was before That Day, and that guy, he knew, could make her happy. He just needed a little more time. He could do it. He would do it. For her.

  For them.

  Until then, if Emily were his wife, at the very least he’d be there, for the rest of their lives, to make sure no man’s cruelty ever harmed her again.

  “You’re sure about this?” Noah asked quietly.

  Mina gasped. “Noah, I don’t think—”

  “I’m sure,” Luke said, and he was.