by BJ Harvey
Then, not giving a fuck what tradition dictates—because I’ve never been one to follow the rules and neither has she—I wrap my hand around Ronnie’s back, bend her backward, and kiss the life out of her.
She meets me stroke for stroke, her lips meshing with mine like matching puzzle pieces meeting their mates. Nothing else exists except the woman in my arms—my wife—and the fact that she is mine. I hear clapping and cheering, laughing, and even a low rumbling chuckle from Elvis himself.
When Ronnie and I finally come up for air, we still stay wrapped up in each other. The only words breaking through my happiness bubble are those of the King himself. “It’s with ‘A Big Hunk O’ Love’ that I wish you well and now pronounce you husband and wife. I hope you have ‘A Little Less Conversation’ tonight, and there’s a lot of ‘Burning Love’ behind closed doors.” Ronnie and I turn our heads to look at him as he chuckles. “You’ve already done it, but let’s do it officially. You may now kiss the bride,” he says.
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” I mutter, tangling my fingers in those crazy golden curls of hers. I breathe her scent of summer nights and peaches. I slowly lower my head and brush my lips against hers, once, then again, before her hand snakes out, wrapping around the back of my neck. Sensing her frustration, I grin against her mouth. A low growl rumbles in her chest before she deepens the kiss, spearing her tongue into my mouth with purpose, and then—like always when it’s us—it’s on.
Gone are public decency and moral decorum. My sole purpose in that moment is to pour all of my feelings—my love, joy, and pride because I now get to call her my wife—into that kiss.
When the kiss ends, we ease back but neither one of us moves away, our mouths still touching, our eyes locked on one another.
“Love you, Ken.”
“Love you, Barbie,” I say with a grin. “Wanna blow this joint?”
Her eyes widen, her brows sky high.
“I meant leave, but I like your way of thinking. Let’s go investigate further.”
And then with a quick wave to our friends and family, and to the sound of raucous applause, Ronnie and I run down the aisle together, laughing the entire way.
Funnily enough, it makes the moment perfectly ours, and I wouldn’t change a single thing.
26
Jax
THREE WEEKS LATER
When we put the final finishing touch on the no-longer-pink lady, everyone close to us is there. There’s Abi, Cade, Harry, and Abi’s huge—I mean, I’m actually in pain for her looking at that thing—pregnant belly. Gilly and a random younger guy we’ve never met before are there, but he seems a few cans short of a six-pack and very much a “dude” this and a “bro” that kind of kid, much to the ire of Ezra for some unknown reason.
Then there’s Co and his EMT partner Skye, Ronnie and myself, and Mom and Dad. Jamie, April, Betty, and Axel round out the group, the last of which has still not said a single word to me since we got back from Vegas three weeks ago. I well and truly lost the favorite uncle crown the day I married Axel’s Ronnie, and that kid is proving he can hold a mean grudge. Both April and Ronnie—though laughing at the time—have assured me that he’ll get over it and will come around, but he’s also got a mean streak. This is proven by the fact that he’s now clinging to Bryant’s hand and looking at me with a filthy sneer like I’m the worst uncle on Earth.
Admittedly, I kind of miss the little guy’s adoration. Lucky for me, I’ve got my wife’s instead. I’d never admit that though. She’d have my balls ripped off and in her purse before I’d even begged her not to. My wife is fierce, and I dig that about her. She’s ambitious, and that is hot as hell.
Ronnie is the most caring, loving, thoughtful woman I’ve ever met. Just this morning, she woke me up with her mouth around my cock and didn’t stop until I was seeing stars and thanking Jesus.
Despite—as she says—not starting her life until she was twenty-nine, she’s not wasting any time. She makes sure every day is not wasted.
And I’m the lucky son of a bitch who gets to say she’s mine.
I rise up on the small step ladder in front of me and screw the last bulb in to the last light fitting—out of nearly fifty in the entire house—and with a loud cheer filling the air, the Dream House project is done.
Getting back down, I turn to find my wife biting her lip as if trying to stop herself from laughing. Then I see Axel with his arms wrapped around her hips, and a shit-eating smirk on his face.
I close the distance between us and lean in to kiss Ronnie but a low grumble from a certain eight-year-old stops me in my tracks. Then Ronnie loses it, dropping her forehead to my shoulder as she bursts out laughing.
Shifting to her side, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and look down at my disgruntled nephew. “Hey Ax.”
“Ugh,” he says, glaring at me. “Why are you touching my Ronnie?”
I open my mouth to say something but Ronnie bends down, giving me pause.
“What’s wrong, Ax?” she asks.
“Mommy said that me and Gran are going to give her away to Jamie at the wedding.”
She nods. “That’s right.”
“But I didn’t get to give you away.”
Damn. This kid feels everything.
Ronnie puts her hands on Axel’s shoulders and looks him dead in the eye. “Ax, you can’t give me away because you’re stuck with me. Forever.”
His little face brightens instantly. “Really?”
“Of course. There’s no way you’re ever getting rid of me.”
“That’s good, because Cohen said I might have to punch Jax in the nuts to save you from him.”
My head snaps up toward my soon-to-be-a-eunuch baby brother. Ronnie’s snort and subsequent giggle cuts through that thought. When I look back down, Axel’s wide smirk as he looks between my junk and Ronnie’s face has my hands instinctively moving to protect myself.
“Nah,” she says. “Cohen was only joking. You don’t want to hurt Jax.” Axel looks up and narrows his eyes at me as if considering the truth in that statement before returning his gaze to our girl. “Besides,” she continues, “no matter what happens, you’re always going to be my little guy.”
“What about when I grow up?”
“Then you’ll be my big boy.”
“And what will Jax be?”
I’ll still be the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
Ronnie glances up and winks at me. “He’ll always be my husband.”
Damn straight.
“Okay then. I won’t punch Uncle Jax in the nuts,” Ax says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Hey, Ax. Maybe you should go do it to Uncle Cohen instead?” All’s fair in love and war, after all. “But first, give me a high five,” I say, holding my palm up. After smacking his hand against mine, he turns and moves away.
Ronnie stands, laughing with me as we watch Axel walk across the room to Cohen and, without any warning at all, give him a well-aimed slam dunk to the junk.
I turn her toward me, resting my hands on her hips as she lifts hers to my chest. Her blue eyes are bright, and her beautiful face is a picture of happiness.
“So what happens when we get our own little guy?” I ask, pulling her in against me.
She tilts her head, her lips quirking up on one side. “A mini Ken heathen?”
“Or a mini Barbie diva,” I reply with huge smirk.
“I’m not sure you could handle a mini-me.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “I can barely handle you.”
“That’s true,” she sighs. “But you do the best you can.”
“And I always will.” Then, before she can say anything else, I dip my head and kiss my wife. I may have taken my sweet-ass time making Ronnie Nelson mine, but now I’ve got her, I’m never letting go.
“Mooooom, Jax and Ronnie are kissing again,” Axel yells, gaining our attention. We both turn our heads toward the little cock-blocker as he moves to where his parents are.
“Dammit, you’re kissing too,” he says when he catches April and Jamie sharing their own moment of celebration.
“Don’t say dammit,” we all say in unison.
His eyes go wide before Axel does what Axel does best. Make us laugh.
“Well, shit.”
The End
Working Back - Book 3
1
Bryant
My nerves are shot. Partly for my oldest brother Jamie, who’s pacing the room behind me, clock-watching like a pro as we wait to leave for the church. The biggest reason is knowing that sometime during today’s proceedings, I’ll see her—my childhood sweetheart who should’ve been my wife and the mother of my children by now.
Twelve years ago, I left California with a biology degree and a broken heart. Faith Baker successfully obliterated it when she rejected my marriage proposal and left that same night, not even saying goodbye.
It’s been twelve years of anger, sadness, what-ifs and if onlys. Twelve years of wondering whether I’d ever find another woman who I’d let get in my heart so completely that they’d never want to leave—and I’d never want to let them go. Twelve years of wondering if I was an idiot for never extinguishing that burning ember deep inside. Yet I knew the answer all along.
A knock at the door breaks the silence. In the reflection of the floor-length mirror in front of me, I watch Jamie cross the room and turn the handle.
“Hi, Jamie.”
I go completely still. That voice—the one I fell in love with at eight years old before I even knew what love was.
“Is he in there?”
I’m frozen in place. Why can’t I move?
“Yeah. I’ll give you guys the room. I’ll be back, Bry,” my oldest brother says, stepping out of sight. The void is replaced by a beauty so bright the imprint sears my soul.
Snap out of it, Cook. I frown as I begin to doubt my ability to get through this with a clear head.
The click of the door echoes around the room, those bright green eyes of hers boring into mine in the mirror. We stay like that for what seems like forever, a strange silence stretching between us.
Despite knowing for almost two months that this moment was coming, nothing could prepare me for the sucker punch of being in her presence again.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before turning around.
“Hey,” I say roughly. I look down and clear my throat, fidgeting with the cuff of my shirt as I will my heart to stop racing. You’ve waited too long to stuff it up now.
“You look good, Bry,” she says softly. Her voice is gentle, but there’s no missing the edge of wariness in her tone.
I run my gaze from her heel-clad feet and up her tanned bronze legs. Her bright purple dress skims her body before clinging to her chest, the fabric knitted together in a series of twists and weaves and wrapping around her torso to gather on one shoulder. Her hair is lighter than it used to be, a myriad of copper streaks scattered through shiny brown waves. She’s just as head-to-toe gorgeous as she always was—even more so now.
As if on instinct, my focus falls to her left hand. Ezra or Mom would have told me if she was married or engaged, but I’m compelled to check regardless. Everything would be in vain if she were otherwise involved. No ring. Thank fuck for that.
I feel compelled to say something. “You look…” Beautiful. Radiant. Not mine, though I still want you to be.
Her lips twitch, drawing my attention to them. I really need to stop checking her out.
“How have you been?” she asks, breaking the awkward silence between us.
“Good.” Nervous. On edge. Stuck on you.
“That’s goo—” She stops herself. Is this really what it’s come down to? Forced, polite conversation, like we’re strangers?
That’s because we are.
She sighs, shaking her head. Her lips curve in a half-hearted smile. “Okay, so I think one of us has to just come out and say it.”
“What’s there to say, Faith?”
“I missed—” She swallows hard. “I miss you.”
“After this long, that’s it?”
“Definitely not all, but it’s the most important. I figured that was what I should lead with if you didn’t kick me out.”
“I still could…” I say. Her brows lift up. “Kick you out, I mean.”
“I’m willing to take my chances,” she says, stepping closer.
I should stop this, but I don’t want to. I should want her far away, but I want her as close as can be.
How is it possible that this woman—the girl I’ve loved for more than twenty-five years—still has me wanting her?
Is it because when she was gone it was easier to push her out of my mind? Is it because a part of me always knew—hoped—that when she finally came back, she’d still feel the same about me as I obviously will always feel about her?
I shake my head. Get it together, dumbass.
“You’re the first boy I ever loved, Bry. You were my everything—”
That hits the spot, the one I need to focus on in this moment. At least until I know the lay of the land between us. “Until I wasn’t.”
She gasps, her eyes misting over. She covers her mouth with her hand. “Is that what you think?” she says, her voice breaking.
This is exactly what I need. I grab hold of the anger, frustration, and wounded ego that’s never gone away and run with it. A hurt man is not always rational, especially when that hurt festers for so long.
“It’s what I know.” My words are strong, flat, unequivocal.
Then I catch it—a change in the way she holds herself. It’s in the squaring of her shoulders and the slight lift of her chin, her eyes narrowed.
I should ask her to leave. Now isn’t the time to rehash the events of our past or try to process anything other than the fact my brother is getting married in a few hours.
Today is supposed to be about celebrating love, not thinking how this could’ve been the two of us. Getting married. Building a life together. Renovating our own dilapidated relocated farmhouse, instead of me flipping it with my brothers.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and take a deep breath to ease the tightness in my chest. “Faith, we do need to talk, but not on Jamie’s wedding day. Let’s not make this about us when it should be about my brother marrying the love of his life and getting everything he’s ever wanted.” Everything I wanted with you.
That’s when I see a spark, the flash in her eyes that used to make me rock hard. I’d see it when she’d punch Jamie in the stomach if he were being a dick to me, or when Missy Gregory was flirting a little too much for Faith’s liking, and she bitch-slapped the girl into submission. It’s a look that screams determination, telling me she’s not about to let this go easily. Just like I’ve never been able to let her go either.
It’s then I decide to go for it—to do the one thing that will give me an answer once and for all. It will scare her off if she’s not really invested in this. Right now, I need her to put up or shut up so I can get on with my day, and my life.
“Are you staying in Chicago?” I ask.
She stills, tilting her head to study me. “Of course I am. I came back for you, Bry. For us…” There’s the briefest hint of annoyance in her tone.
“Right,” I say, trying to sound unaffected. “If you really came back for me—for us—you’d be willing to do absolutely anything to prove it.”
She furrows her brows. “Yes,” she says. “I know I stayed away too long, but we were too close, too wrapped up in each other. It was too much, too—”
“And now?” I ask harshly. I’m not this guy, except apparently when faced with the love of my life who I can’t—don’t want to—get over.
Faith takes a tentative step toward me. “I’m back, and I’m staying. I’m here for the long haul, Bry. I’ve come back for you… for us… to rebuild what I broke and fix it. I’m going to stay with Ez until I find my own place, and I’m here now to find out if there’s even a cha
nce.”
There’s always been a chance with you.
Everything in my head scrambles together. I look down, fidgeting with my shirtsleeves again, my fingers twisting the silver cuff links Jamie gave each of us with our initials on them.
I never expected her to be so open and upfront about what she wanted. I didn’t imagine she’d turn up and lay it all out there for me. But if she’s sincere and she wants this, then I want it all. No uncertainty. No maybes. No running away when life gets hard or confusing or too much.
There’s only one possible solution. A controlled situation. A certain situation. One final test, if you will. She’ll either go for it or prove she’s not fully invested—again.
Taking a deep breath, I lift my head and meet her eyes. My palms are clammy, and my heart is firmly lodged in my throat.
This is it. This is the moment when I find out whether my soulmate is all talk or not. If I want to know for sure, I have to risk it all.
“Okay,” I say with a shrug, masking my nerves.
She jerks, her eyes wide. “What?”
“We can work on this—us—but on one condition.”
Her shoulders sag, her gaze bright and full of hope. “Anything, Bry. You name it, and I’ll do it,” she rushes out. “I really want to fix this. I want to make it up to you. I just want you.”
I nod and run my tongue over my bottom lip. “The plan is this. We enjoy today, no drama or tension. I don’t want anyone feeling like they have to walk around us on eggshells.”
Her gaze turns skeptically cautious. Her eyes narrow ever so slightly. “What’s the catch?”
My lips curve up into a half-smirk. “So you do still know me.”
“I remember everything,” she replies, her voice wavering. “What is it? What hoops do I need to jump through? What mountains do I have to climb? Because I’ll do it, Bry. Whatever it takes.”
“It’s pretty simple, really. You want to get back together, and I need certainty.”