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

by Stevens, Camilla

  For the moment, he was leaving that in the capable hands of his lovely wife. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

  He looked at the man sitting across from him.

  “So, you’re sure you want to go through with this?” Michael asked.

  “Absolutely.” There was a firm nod of the head.

  “Okay, then,” Michael said. “I’m not going to lie, it won’t be easy. Trust me, I’ve been through this.”

  The man nodded, understanding what was at stake.

  “The most important thing is, don’t let him see you sweat,” Michael warned. “Any sign of nervousness and you’re a goner.”

  He nodded again.

  “Now, let me walk you through it,” Michael began. “First of all, he’ll make it seem like he’s giving you an edge in. Don’t fall for it. Just shut up and let him do the talking. That’s really the best route for you. Once he’s done, you’ll be more fully informed, him having played his hand. Then you can make your move. Got it?”

  “Got it,” said the man.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” said Michael, who smiled as London peeked a head in.

  “How did it go?” said Michael, honestly curious.

  “I think we won him over. You men and your egos,” she said, teasingly.

  Both men in the room bristled a little, but Michael felt a tiny ripple of relief come over him. Baby steps.

  “The bigger question is, how are things going in here?” London looked at the man sitting across from Michael.

  “I think he’s ready to make his move,” Michael said looking at the man across from him, who still showed signs of nervousness despite the sage advice from his counselor.

  “Well, in that case, perhaps it’s time to take the next step?” London suggested.

  “You ready?” Michael asked the man.

  He just nodded, plainly not at all ready.

  London laughed. “Don’t worry, Alex,” she said. “I think we’ve buttered him up enough.”

  * * *

  The walk to Frank Jefferson’s office made Alex feel like a Dead Man Walking. Sure, his brother had gone through this before. But his brother was Michael Wright.

  Michael hadn’t stupidly announced a surprise marriage to Frank Jefferson—only to cancel it a week beforehand.

  Michael hadn’t had his stupid dick tattoo splashed all over the internet for the world to see.

  Michael hadn’t—

  Alex shook his head. It would do no good to compare himself to his older brother. Especially at this stage. Alex was his own man. A man who was about to ask the father of the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with if he was maybe okay with that.

  God help him.

  Frank’s secretary gave him an encouraging smile and a wink, which instantly put him at ease. That was a good sign, right?

  “Go right on in, sweetheart,” she said. “He’s waiting for you.”

  Alex approached the door and knocked.

  “Come in,” Alex heard a resigned voice on the other side say.

  He walked in to find Frank Jefferson looking his way with a wary glance. Finally the man sighed.

  “Come on in, and close the door he said,” leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his stomach.

  “Now, I’m going to let you give your spiel because I know that’s why you’re here….”

  On the advice of counsel, Alex, shut up and let him talk.

  * * *

  “Do you think he’ll make it out alive?” Michael asked, grinning at the door Alex had just walked through.

  “Barely,” London said, smiling in amusement. “Poor boy, he must really love Brooklyn to go through this.”

  “Well, if I had to, it’s only fair that he gets the same hazing.”

  “The things you Wright men go through for your women,” she said, looking over at him with admiration.

  “Totally worth it, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer. “Totally worth it.”

  Chapter 49

  Five Months Later

  The first stop London made was naturally over to Michael’s office. She waddled in and made her announcement.

  “I think it’s time, honey.”

  Against the wishes of both her husband and, a surprisingly doting father, London had insisted on coming to work until the very end.

  And now the end was here.

  Michael blinked up at her in momentary shock.

  She laughed and helped him along. “That’s your cue to maybe let everyone know we’re leaving for the day.”

  “Jesus, yes!” he exclaimed, jumping up out of his chair. He came around to wrap a protective arm around her.

  “Baby!” he announced, as they made their way through the offices. “Baby coming through.”

  “It’s not a fire,” London said, embarrassed by the display.

  But it had an effect. Everyone in the office stopped in their tracks, smiles coming to their faces in anticipation of what was about to occur.

  “What’s this about a baby?!” Frank asked, rushing out of his office in the same state of excitement that Michael was in. “Are you sure? Have you even called a taxi yet, Michael? Which hospital are you headed to?”

  Cleveland just leaned in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head in amusement as they passed by. This was nothing new to him, having been through it twice with his two sons.

  “Good luck, sis,” he said as she passed by in Michael’s arms. “I’ll hold down the fort in the meantime.”

  London was grateful for the one voice of normalcy amid the fuss that both Michael and her father were creating.

  “Oh, the baby bag!” London exclaimed, referring to the bag with all the supplies she was informed she’d need in the hospital. “I left it in my office!”

  Both men instantly abandoned her on a race to retrieve it.

  All she could do was watch and smile. Her men.

  * * *

  Exactly 16 hours later Lily Estelle Wright was born into the world on a rather lovely, late spring morning.

  Not too long after that, she was introduced to the Jefferson-Wright family drama.

  It began with the perfectly lovely, and perfectly sensible vase of pink flowers that Frank and Estelle brought to London’s hospital room. Like everyone who came into contact with her, they fawned all over the tiny bundle with a full head of black wavy hair and eyes that weren’t quite blue and weren’t quite brown.

  Then Richard Wright came. This being his first grandchild ever, he made a spectacle of it. There were cigars for everyone in the hospital, each wrapped in cellophane with the words “IT’S A GIRL!!!” emblazoned on each one. Never mind that each nurse, doctor, staff member, patient, or visitor that he handed one to had some righteous words regarding the distribution of cigars…at a hospital.

  The worst part was the bouquet of flowers he and Sveltlana brought with them, as he cooed over the first female Wright in his lineage. It was unfortunately much bigger than the Jefferson’s.

  Naturally, Frank Jefferson couldn’t let such an ostentatious display go unchallenged. London found her room, or rather the ceiling of her room, full of pink balloons, each proclaiming what she already knew: It’s a Girl!!!

  They came with a bouquet of flowers so absurdly full that she wondered how they even fit in the vase they were in.

  Then Richard Wright sent 50 pink onesies not just to her, but to every woman who gave birth to a girl on her floor.

  It was all downhill from there.

  The huge 9 foot tall stuffed giraffe: Jefferson

  The giant sized teddy bear: Wright

  The flowers sent to every mother on the ward: Jefferson

  The payment of all expenses for every woman at the hospital that gave birth the same day as London: Wright

  Finally, London and Michael had to put their foot down. They obviously had no problem with the generosity extended to their fellow new parents.
But London’s room was beginning to look like a cross between a nursery—the floral kind, not the baby kind—and a stuffed animal sanctuary.

  Much to the relief of the hospital staff, both Richard Wright and Frank Jefferson were banned from the building by their children.

  Epilogue

  TWO YEARS LATER

  You’re Invited

  “Michael, you’ll ruin your tuxedo,” Kate Wright admonished.

  “Where is Lily’s other shoe?” London asked, looking at her daughter’s left foot with a quizzical expression.

  Lily ignored the protests of her mother and grandmother as she squealed with delight, while her father threw her over his shoulder and spun around in circles, making them both dizzy. Her hair was in a ponytail, sporting fat ringlets of black hair that was definitely taken from her father’s side. Her amber colored eyes were scrunched shut as she enjoyed the ride he was giving her.

  Michael stopped spinning Lily around and stared down at the white, ruffled sock on which a silver Mary Jane shoe was plainly missing.

  “Huh,” he acknowledged. “Well, we can always get her more shoes.”

  “That’s not the point, honey,” London said, shaking her head with a weary smile. Why was it that Michael always turned into a kid himself when he was with their little girl? She rested a hand on her bump, which was days away from popping, wondering if it would be twice as bad once the next one was born.

  “I’ll take this little one,” Kate said, finally stepping in once they had stopped spinning. Both parents noted the proud smile that came to the woman’s face as her granddaughter leapt from Michael’s shoulders, straight into her arms. As concerned as she had been about Michael’s tuxedo, she had no such reservations about wrinkling her own immaculate Oscar de la Renta dress.

  “Why are you even out here?” London asked. “Go back and hang with the boys. Alex is probably a nervous wreck, if Brooklyn is any indication. I’m going to go check on her again.”

  “Ah! That reminds me what I came for,” he said. “I’m supposed to be getting the whiskey!”

  “What?”

  “Michael!”

  He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he isn’t falling down at the altar, but this is a Wright tradition.”

  He winked and walked off, leaving both women staring after him with skeptical expressions.

  * * *

  “This is crazy. Just look at me!” Brooklyn said, staring in the mirror.

  “You look stunning,” London assured her sister.

  “Like a princess,” Estelle said, standing on her other side looking at her reflection.

  “Exactly,” Brooklyn complained. “This is sooo not me.”

  London took in the gold, strapless, hand-beaded and jeweled bodice, beneath which flowed yards and yards of white silk organza that had been lightly gathered in diagonal pleats ending in a very long train in back.

  “I thought you loved this dress,” London said, frowning.

  “I do but…” Brooklyn sighed and walked around the bedroom of the Bridal Suite at the Palace Hotel, or at least as much as her extravagant dress would allow. “Everything about this wedding has just gotten way out of hand. You and Michael, you two had it so much easier. This? This isn’t at all what I pictured. For Pete’s sake, even Mayor Rivera is coming!”

  London wanted to laugh. Her wedding was hardly an example of a wedding “gone right.” On the other hand, she couldn’t argue with Brooklyn’s assessment. Somehow Alex and Brooklyn’s perfectly appropriate two-year engagement had given the Wrights and the Jeffersons—actually a specific Wright and a specific Jefferson—plenty of time to turn the entire thing into the Wedding of the Year.

  First, Richard Wright had graciously offered up the Grand Ballroom for the ceremony and the lavish rooftop for the reception at the Palace Hotel, which he owned.

  Naturally, Frank had to offer up his own display of extreme generosity, paying nearly six figures for the wedding gown Brooklyn had on, and a matching reception gown. It certainly helped that Jefferson & Wright (Jefferson ever so slightly larger in the letterhead) had nearly doubled their business in the past two years, leaving the partners fairly well-to-do.

  By the time all was said and done, the original bride and groom’s humble 50-person guest list had grown to 500 people, limited only by the occupancy allowance of the reception location. Even all three ex Mrs. Wrights had been invited as a sort of familial truce.

  Brooklyn picked up her bountiful skirt and paced back to the mirror to look at her reflection with a resigned expression on her face. Her mother and sister came back to stand on either side of her, giving her encouraging smiles.

  “No wedding is going to be entirely what you expect. That’s why you have to focus on the little things that are important,” Estelle pointed out, with an amused smile. “For example, you managed to push through the dyed hair, despite your father’s objections.”

  Brooklyn smiled at the purple streaks running through the natural curls of her hair that had been piled up into a tight bun top of her head to accommodate the diamond-encrusted crown of her veil. It was the same color the tips of her hair had been the night she first met Alex.

  “And the pink tulips, even though you nearly gave the wedding planner a heart attack,” added London.

  That made her finally break out in a laugh. The rather ornate black and white “theme” the wedding planner had convinced the couple they wanted most certainly hadn’t included something as basic as pink tulips. It was only Brooklyn’s threat to put the kibosh on everything and elope that caused him to give in. In the end, the black and white color scheme of the wedding was slightly adjusted to include hints of pink. It actually turned out quite well, the cute simplicity contrasted against the ostentatiousness of everything else.

  “And your friends are all out there in the other room, so excited for you and ready to share this special day with their girl,” Estelle said, putting her arm around Brooklyn’s waist and looking at her in the mirror.

  London came over and draped an arm around her shoulders. “And more importantly, the man you love is down the hall, waiting to spend the rest of his life with you. That is all you need to think about.”

  Brooklyn smiled and looked fondly down at the engagement ring Alex had proposed with. Once upon a time, she had been opposed to such a token of love, but this one, it was perfect. A tiny black pearl and white pearl embedded in an intricate platinum swirl design, as though representing the couple coming together as one in a sort of Yin and Yang symbiosis.

  “See there,” London said, with a smile, “That’s the look. Whatever thoughts are in your head right now? Ignore all the rest and focus on that.”

  “So are you ready sweetheart?” Estelle said, giving Brooklyn a squeeze.

  She looked up into the mirror at her mother and sister and nodded.

  On the other side of the door laughter broke out.

  “What in the world is grandma up to with those girls?” London asked.

  The three of them made their way out of the bedroom to see Lucille in the middle of the sofa surrounded by Annie, Kay, Martina, and Justine, all in various black dresses of differing styles. Brooklyn had graciously allowed them to pick their own dresses, the only caveat being that it had to be in black. They were all sipping from champagne flutes—a few hands were already blessed with their own rings by now—and were rapt with attention at some story Lucille was regaling them with. She stopped mid-story and looked up at Brooklyn.

  “There’s our girl now,” she said with a fond smile.

  They all turned with excited smiles on their faces, each of them having been right there by Brooklyn’s side during her entire journey with Alex. There was Annie, with her hair now in long blonde locks, who had always rooted for Alex. Sweet, quiet Kay, always offering words of wisdom out of left field. Justine, still in dreadlocks, bunched intricately up on top of her head, who was quick with the comedic relief. Even Martina, playing devil’s advocate to keep things in check,
looking stunning as ever.

  Then there was Grandma Lucille, in a rather flattering maroon, curly haired wig.

  This was what Brooklyn would focus on.

  * * *

  Down the hall, Alex was only slightly more at ease than Brooklyn was. He certainly wasn’t a fan of how big a circus this had turned into, but if the end result—him being with Brooklyn forever—was the same, he didn’t particularly care.

  That wasn’t to say he wasn’t somewhat relieved when Michael returned with the bottle of whiskey.

  It was two hours until takeoff and his entire side of the wedding party was dressed and sitting around twiddling their thumbs. Michael was obviously his Best Man. He had no reservations about Cleveland being a groomsman, having spent the past two years getting to know the refresihingly rather laid back member of the Jefferson clan.

  To accommodate Brooklyn’s insistence on having all “her girls” in her party, he’d needed to make certain…allowances. Bouncing around the world didn’t create the kind of deep male bonding, that encouraged asking one to participate in one’s wedding. He had a lot of “associates,” not too many real friends.

  This meant River, who had thankfully come out of his “Riot” phase, was also serving as a groomsman. Gone was the black make up, ripped clothes, and longish, dyed pitch-black hair. Now, the most noticeable things about him were the trademark Wright, thick, dark brown hair, cleft chin, and a pair of piercingly green eyes taken from his mother. Depending on who you asked, London or Brooklyn, he was now either “dashingly handsome” or “actually kind of hot.” Either way, the attitude had also disappeared, at least for the most part. It helped that being anywhere in the vicinity of Brooklyn’s bridal party resulted in stunned awkwardness on his part.

  Then there was Chauncey.

  He was still only eight years old, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected that he would have grown out of his bratty phase, but no such luck. If anything, it was worse. He was probably too young to be a groomsman but desperate times…. Alex was just glad London was too far into her pregnancy to participate as matron of honor, leaving another void for him to fill.