Mr. & Mrs. Wright: A BWWM Romance (Wright Brothers Series Book 2)

by Stevens, Camilla

  Here was the kitchen where they’d bake cookies for Santa.

  Here was the living room where they would snuggle up during winter storms in front of the fire place.

  Here was the dining room where they’d eat blueberry pancakes on lazy Saturday mornings.

  The second floor housed two bedrooms and a bathroom. The perfect set up for the perfect little nuclear family. She wandered into one that had a lovely view of the trees on the street below, then to the other which had just as lovely a view of the backyard.

  They finally made their way to the top floor which was the most spectacular part of the house, being entirely taken over by the master bedroom, bathroom and substantial closet space.

  “My god, this is huge!” exclaimed London, as she wandered over to the three windows overlooking the street below. There was room enough for a king sized bed and a seating area in front of the fireplace. The bathroom on the other side of the house was no less impressive with a full sunk-in bath and a separate shower, his and hers sinks, and a separate toilet. It was all done in white marble and fully updated. They each even had their own closets.

  “I thought you might like this,” Michael said coming up to her as she made her way back to the bedroom in wonder. He stood behind her as she looked down onto the street and wrapped his arms around her shoulder.

  “It’s too much,” she said, “too big…just for the two of us?”

  She didn’t want to clue him in on the fact that soon there would be three. She wanted to be sure that this place was what he wanted…without the pressure of knowing it was exactly what they needed.

  “Well, I think this bedroom might end up changing that,” he said, chuckling into her ear.

  She knew he was teasing her, but it felt so wonderful to hear him talk that way without any hint of apprehension.

  She burst out sobbing. She felt him stiffen behind her and she instantly regretted her reaction. She pulled herself away from him, unable to stop the tears now that they had started.

  “Um, I’ll just give you two a moment,” the agent said, making a speedy escape downstairs.

  “What is it, London?” Michael asked, ignoring the woman. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about kids. I know we just got back together and you like to be sure about these kinds of things. It was just a passing idea, not serious at all.”

  She had just about been able to get the words out, when that turned her into another blubbering mess.

  “No—” she hiccuped, shaking her head to disabuse him of the line of thought he was taking. “No [hiccup] it’s [hiccup] it’s—”

  “It’s okay, we can look at something smaller, just for the two of us. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you with this,” he looked around at the room almost nostalgically. “It just seemed like such a perfect place—”

  “I’m pregnant!” she finally managed to get out, stopping him before he completely backtracked.

  His head froze, where it was looking up at the crown molding along the ceiling. She saw him blink once then twice. Then his head fell down to face her with wide eyes.

  There was a long pause where he didn’t say anything, just stared at her with that dumbstruck look, his blue eyes staring at her.

  “Say something!” she cried, wiping the snot from her nose.

  Instead he took one long step toward her and grabbed her into a bear hug. “Oh, London…London, London, London,” he repeated.

  She frowned into his smothering embrace. “Is that good or bad?” she mumbled into his chest.

  “Good or bad?” he asked, pulling her away. “How can you even ask that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just, when we met you didn’t even want to get married and—”

  “London, that was a lifetime ago. ”

  “Only four months—”

  “Long enough to change my mind. Especially with the right woman.”

  “But—”

  “No but’s London,” he said seriously, “Obviously, this is a bit of a shock, but if you think I have any doubt about having this baby with you, you are sorely mistaken.”

  She smiled up at him, her shaking sobs easing up. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “You’re not just saying it to make me feel better?”

  “Well, actually it’s mostly because I really want this place,” he said teasing her.

  She hiccuped a laugh and slapped him in the chest. He brought her in close for another bear hug.

  “Really, London. This is great news,” he said, resting his chin on her head.

  “So how much is this place a month anyway?” she asked curiously.

  He told her…and she nearly had a heart attack.

  Chapter 33

  Brooklyn was surprised to find herself answering the phone, considering the name on the caller ID: Alex. She had called on Monday and now it was Friday, almost a full week later. Any forgiveness she had felt was slowly beginning to wane.

  He happened to catch her on break when she was mindlessly scrolling through her phone anyway.

  “Listen Brooklyn,” he began before she could utter a word, “I know right now you’re probably ten kinds of pissed off at me but can you do me one favor? Trust me.”

  “Alex—”

  “Just yes or no,” he urged. “I know there’s a lot to discuss, and we’ll have plenty of time for that, but if you still care about me—love me, like you once said you did, then say you trust me.”

  “Alex—”

  “Trust me. Yes or no.”

  She paused as she thought about it. This was what she wanted, right? So why had he waited so long to respond to her? She should be angry. But she couldn’t muster it.

  This was her guy. Ride or die.

  “Yes,” she said, firmly.

  She heard a sigh of relief on the other end. “Great,” he said. “Oh and make sure to call in sick for the next week…or just quit your job.”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  “Trust me, Brooklyn. See you soon! Gotta go! I love you, babe.”

  With that he hung up.

  Brooklyn stared at the phone in disbelief. It had to be the strangest phone call she’d ever had.

  What the hell was going on with this “trust me” stuff? Then to hang up just like that, leaving her totally clueless.

  Still, he had called. He’d called! He wanted her back and, even if she still had no idea what was going on with him, he was hers again.

  She closed out her phone and went back to the register at Joe on the Go with a smile on her face.

  * * *

  When she got to her apartment that night, Annie was at the top of the third floor practically jumping up and down. She grabbed Brooklyn’s hand and dragged her up the final flight to their floor.

  All her girls were in the apartment beaming…around the largest bouquet of tulips she had ever seen. There had to be at least 50 total, in so many colors it looked like a rainbow had erupted in their little bohemian living room.

  Brooklyn dropped her bag and strolled over in surprised wonder.

  “Girl, I don’t know what you said to him on the phone Monday, but it must have been good,” Justine said.

  “And hopefully worth waiting for,” added Martina, reminding them all that it was now four days later.

  “There’s an envelope too,” said Kay anxiously, handing it to her.

  They all looked at her with eager anticipation. It wasn’t the standard size that came with a bouquet of flowers. This one was white, but the size of a manilla envelope.

  Brooklyn sated their restless curiosity by opening it. No doubt they had all been sitting around torturously eyeing it.

  The first thing that she pulled out was what looked like an invitation. It was on thick white card stock and professionally printed.

  You are cordially invited to a private art showing for the work of

  Brooklyn René Jefferson

  At Club Jalouse

  47 Rue L’ange

  July 27, 201
6

  Eight o’clock P.M.

  Private Invitation Only

  Her friends all looked over her shoulder and gasped or squealed with delight. They all started chattering at once.

  “Oh my god, he did buy your work after all!”

  “This is so fucking romantic!”

  “You’re so lucky, Brooklyn!”

  “Wait a sec, that’s next week!”

  “How are you going to get there?”

  The last question made them all stop talking. Brooklyn looked into the envelope and that’s where she saw the other surprise. It was a smaller, letter sized envelope. She eagerly opened it to find one first class ticket to Paris inside…leaving tomorrow morning.

  That started them all up again.

  “Oh my god, you have to start packing now!”

  “It will be ten times better than your first trip!”

  “Make sure you look fly as hell, girl!”

  “We should definitely go shopping, tonight!”

  Brooklyn just sat there staring, completely ignoring them as her emotions overcame her.

  The flowers.

  The invitation.

  The ticket to Paris.

  Her art work, safe in the hands of the one she loved.

  Alex.

  She started crying.

  That quickly snapped her friends out of their jubilant state and quickly into BFF mode. They came down around her like an avalanche, all hugs and assurances that all was right with the world.

  And it was…it absolutely was.

  * * *

  Last time Alex had flown Brooklyn to Paris in Business Class. This time he had upgraded her to, what Air France called, La Première class.

  From the moment she arrived at JFK airport, she was treated to absolute luxury. She felt distinctly out of place in the La Première lounge wearing her denim romper and white Keds, but with the ticket as her passport in, she seemed to be treated no differently than anyone else there.

  Once on board it she was even more impressed. The flight attendants were so attentive it was almost embarrassing. Brooklyn was more than happy to indulge in the free flowing champagne, if only to calm her nerves. And there were plenty of nerves that needed calming.

  Her last trip to Paris had been in a secluded little pod. This time she had a veritable lounge area to herself. As she sat back in isolated contemplation, 30,000 feet above the earth she thought about what a 180 degree turn her life had taken.

  Two weeks ago she had just quit her crappy job…only to take on an even crappier job. Her dream of an art career had gone down in flames and she had called it quits with her boyfriend.

  Now she was flying first class to her very own private showing of her work, that the love of her life had put together for her.

  God how she loved that man.

  As she stared out the window the flight attendant brought around the meal she had ordered off the menu. They had given her a caviar canapé and champagne (which they were not stingy with at all) when she first sat down, which had been surreal.

  Not having any idea what she was looking at on the menu, Brooklyn had randomly chosen her three (three!) courses off the menu. There was a cream of asparagus soup to start. Once the flight attendant had explained that “tartar” meant “raw” she had skipped the salmon tartar and gone for the foie gras instead, which had been quite delicious, especially with the mango-pineapple sauce that had accompanied it. She had a beef tenderloin with the most delectable sauce as her main course. It came with a side of new potatoes and vegetables which had somehow been so seasoned to perfection she finished off each and every bit of it.

  She was completely stuffed but still decided to induce in both the cheese and dessert courses. She nibbled at the cheese and her lemon meringue tart as she kept the flight attendant busy filling her glass with champagne.

  Although she had been far too high strung to even think about sleeping when she first boarded, by the time her meal was complete she felt her eyes getting sleepy. Being in the section of the plane she was, her attendant was quick to help her adjust her seat so she could lie down and get some much needed shut eye.

  As she fell asleep, full and ever so slightly past the point of tipsy, she snuggled under the covers and thought about how much she looked forward to seeing Alex again.

  * * *

  The first class service didn’t end at the jetway. Air France made sure she was completely taken care of all the way to the exit gate…where Alex Wright was waiting for her once again.

  The last time she had met him at Charles de Gaulle Airport, she had run to him like a teenager squealing with glee, jumping up on him and kissing him with wild abandon. This time she quickly strolled over and wrapped her arms around him so tightly she didn’t think she’d ever let go.

  “Brooklyn,” he mumbled into her curls.

  “Alex,” she responded, squeezing him even tighter.

  Eventually, she pulled herself off him enough to actually look up into his face. The look of absolute devotion and affection she saw made her realize that this was the person she belonged not just to, but with. Forever.

  “I trust you,” she said.

  “I know,” he said, smiling down at her. He sealed it with a kiss that put their first one to shame. Brooklyn fell into it, diving so deep she knew she would never come up for air.

  Chapter 34

  Even though they both suspected there was a bit of false pressure on the part of the agent, who proclaimed that the townhouse that they had both fallen in love with “already had several offers,” and even though London had serious misgivings about the monthly price—Michael and London had made their offer on the spot that Tuesday.

  “I can obviously cover the bulk of the rent,” Michael had pointed out, even though he knew London would put up a fuss about that.

  “I don’t want you to put up the bulk of it, Michael,” she had complained. “We’re supposed to be partners. That means doing everything equally.”

  “No, it doesn’t” he said, after letting her rant for a bit, knowing she had to get it out of her system. “It means complimenting each other. I have the very healthy trust fund and obvious wit and charm.” He watched her twist her lips in reluctant amusement. “And you have the sex appeal”—she slapped him on the chest—”and far superior intellect,” he concluded, appeasing her.

  She laughed and shook her head knowing when she was beat. She knew it. He knew it. This place was perfect. Especially now.

  Michael couldn’t help himself as his eyes wandered down to London’s midsection. To say the news of a baby had been a surprise was an understatement. With any other woman on Earth he would have suspected a trap in the workings. With London, it was a fortuitous little happenstance.

  She had gone to the doctor and discovered that the little bundle of joy had been conceived even before their hop over to Europe. It made Michael all the more elated knowing that the amazing time they had experienced together in Barcelona and Ibiza had been shared with their future son or daughter.

  London had, of course, been obsessed with the fact that she had been living her life without the proper care and concern an expecting mother should have for her child. Eventually, her doctor and Michael had been able to talk her out of thinking the baby would be born a mutant.

  Now they were lying here in the home that the baby would be born into. It filled Michael with joy to think of it. By the time the lease on this place was up for renewal, they would have a new addition to the household.

  Even though both of them still had at least a month left on their respective leases, they saw no reason to postpone the inevitable. An initial fight over which bed would be moved into the master bedroom was eventually solved by the fact that the space was large enough to fit a damn California King…so they went out and bought one.

  London, because she had sentimental ideas about sharing the bed with tiny little tots who had nightmares in the middle of the night.

  Michael because he had wicked ideas o
f how much space that offered for sexual exploration…and maybe a tiny part of him also relished the idea of snuggling up with a tiny little Wright between the two of them.

  Now they were sitting up in bed snuggled up against each other. Since the bed was literally the only piece of furniture in the house, it served as a dining room table as well. They ate lo mein and Kung Pao chicken out of cartons, and drank (beer for Michael, Pelligrino for London) as they worked on the one final nagging issue in their lives: Dion Davis.

  “So, I’ve worked out a plan,” said Michael taking a swig of his Sapporo beer. “First, don’t get mad, but I reached out to Marissa Stokes,” he said.

  London pulled herself up to turn and look at him. “You did?” she asked in surprise. London had first been made aware of Marissa’s involvement with her ex, Clayton, when she found them in a suspiciously intimate situation not too long after she and Clayton had ended things—or rather when he had dumped her.

  “Yes, and she wasn’t very interested in pointing the finger at Dion, but I got the distinct impression that she was no less subjected to his unwanted attentions than you were.”

  London pulled herself down to think about it. It made sense. Marissa was not only attractive, she was in a much more vulnerable situation than London was. She actually found herself feeling somewhat sorry for the girl.

  “So what did she say?” London inquired.

  “Not much; but the gist of it was that she had no other options.”

  All of a sudden London felt legitimately bad for her. It had been easy for London to kick Dion’s sorry ass to the curb as far as the Jefferson & Associates firm was concerned. Marissa had spent her entire young career working solely for the Davis campaign. If she pointed the finger at him, she’d be like a lamb to the slaughter.

  “So I guess she’s out as far as being of any help,” London conceded.

  “Not quite,” Michael said, causing London to turn to him with a questioning look.

  “While you were so blatantly avoiding me, I thought of a little strategy. Who is Dion Davis’ number one threat when it comes to this election?” he asked. “And I swear if you say my father I’m going to break this lease and move back downtown.”