by Tessa Teevan
“So, how was the fitting?” I ask as I shift my body and look up at him.
A radiant smile spreads across his face—one that’s a little too enthusiastic for something like getting fitted for tuxedos. “It was great. The brace doesn’t look too bad with the tux, but hopefully I’ll be able to last one night without it.”
I give him a look that says, No way.
He sighs. “Just for the ceremony and then pictures afterwards. I promise I’ll have it on throughout the reception.”
“I guess I’m okay with that, but I will be sitting next to your mom with your crutches, so if you need them, you better tell me.”
He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Okay, baby. We’ll come up with some sort of Bat signal. Just in case.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Okay, Bruce Wayne. If you say so. Now why are you cheesing so big? Did something else happen while you were at your parents’ place? I know you’re not that excited about being in a tux, even if I can’t wait to see you in one.”
“What? My basketball shorts and T-shirts don’t turn you on?” he asks, trying his best to look hurt.
Giving him a knowing look, I take a sip of my champagne before answering. “Branson, if we don’t have appointments on any given day, I’m lucky if I get you to do more than put on boxers in the morning.” He gives me a cocky smirk. “Not that I’m complaining. You’d look good in anything and, well, nothing, too. I just have a feeling you’re going to be super sexy in a tux. Very Bruce Wayne like,” I tease, lifting up to capture his lips in a kiss.
Pulling back before he can deepen it, I give his lower lip a nibble, and a low growl emits from his throat. His free hand comes up to grip my cheek as he closes the space between us and presses a hot kiss against my lips, his tongue sweeping in as it seeks out my own. His kiss has my nerve endings on fire, and just as I’m about to climb into his lap, he slows it down and then pulls away. This time, I’m the one with the growl.
He grins. “I can be your Bruce Wayne or your Batman, baby. Whoever you want me to be.”
I scoot back, putting a little space between us, not wanting things to get too heated before we even get to our destination. “Hmm…Bruce Wayne or Batman. That’s a tough one. Although, now that I think about it, Batman wasn’t able to save his girlfriend from the explosion. The way I see it, you already have one up on him.”
His shoulders shake as he chuckles. “I guess we’ll just have to find another superhero.”
After downing the rest of my champagne, I set my glass aside and slide back until I’m resting against the side of the limo, my legs out in front of me across the seat. Branson pulls my feet into his lap.
“The way I see it…I don’t need a superhero, Branson. I just need you,” I say softly.
His gaze locks in on mine, and I watch as his jaw tenses—just for a split second. The way his eyes are boring into mine is unnerving. My natural reaction is to look away, but I force myself to maintain eye contact. Silence fills the air, and I wonder if I’ve given away too much in those four little words. Perhaps the L-word isn’t the only scary one for men. Need is probably just as terrifying.
A brief memory of Branson telling me that he’s nobody’s savior flashes through my mind. I could almost laugh at the untruthfulness of that statement. Because, no matter what happens tonight, next week, or even a year from now, he’ll always be mine. Even if it’s just a distant memory.
Unexpectedly, my eyes well up with tears. That’s enough to make me want to break our gaze. The last thing I want is for him to see me cry.
Just as I’m about to shift my eyes away, he smiles, and my heart flutters.
“I guess I’ll have to cancel my Batmobile order,” he teases before sobering a little. “A damn shame, too. I’ve wanted that thing since I was a kid.”
“I totally get it. I’m still waiting for my pink Barbie convertible,” I say with a sigh.
“So, about the wedding,” he says, doing a complete one-eighty on our conversation. “This afternoon, at the fitting, Knox asked me to be his best man.”
Even though he’s obviously trying to mask it, I can see the joy on his face. My throat tightens as my breath catches, tears welling up again. This time, I can’t stop them, and one spills over.
“That’s amazing, Branson.” I wipe the tear away and give him a beaming smile. “Sorry. I don’t meant to be emotional, but I know how much this means to you.”
“Trust me. I was a bit shocked when he asked. He even joked about my saving him from being miserable with Megan.” He shakes his head as a small smile quirks on his lips. “I was able to explain some things, and I think we’re finally going to be able to put it behind us once and for all. And damn if it doesn’t feel like a huge boulder’s just been lifted off my shoulders.”
I nod in understanding, biting my lip as I try to determine if I should use this as my in. The glass of wine and subsequent glass of champagne have me feeling a little less cautious than normal, and I decide to just go for it.
“So I said full disclosure once before, but we never did end up having that conversation. I guess I’m just wondering what exactly the deal with Megan was? What happened? And how did you end up married to her?”
He’s watching me in silence, and I continue, keeping it light.
“Not trying to stroke your ego or anything, but the things we’ve done over the past month? I can’t imagine you married to—what did you call her—a frigid bitch?”
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before setting down his champagne flute, twisting so we’re on opposite ends of the bench seat but looking directly at each other. “You want to talk about this now?”
With a shrug, I meet his gaze. “I know it’s not exactly first-date material, but as your fiancée, I feel I should probably know about her. Don’t worry. I’ll take notes on what not to do as the future Mrs. Wellington.” I’m teasing, but the sound of the moniker coming off my lips makes my pulse quicken. Glancing down at the Wellington family ring, I’m suddenly aware that I’m going to have a hell of a time taking it off when the time comes.
Branson leans his head back and laughs, and I assume he must not notice my change in demeanor. “Baby, trust me. You have nothing to worry about where that’s concerned. You couldn’t be more different from her if you tried. And I love that about you.”
My heart flutters at that L-word even though I know it’s just a saying. It’s not a declaration of his undying affection for me, so I push it aside even though I want to wrap the moment up in a blissful bubble so I can savor it for a little while longer.
“Well, we’ve already established that you and I’ve had pretty shitty taste in the past, but the good news is we both seemed to have learned the error of our ways. We’re definitely making up for our poor decision-making skills now. I don’t need details, Branson. I really don’t. But you did spend over a decade with her. That’s a lot of history to have with someone.”
He sighs but gives in. “Okay, a very short, non-descriptive rundown and then we put her in the past where she belongs and get on with our date?” he asks, and I nod. “What all did I tell you the night we met?”
Tapping my chin, I think back on it. “By the time we met, you were pretty deep into the scotch bottle. You didn’t really say why you were on the outs with your family, just that you were. And you didn’t want to be. Something about your brother finally being happy. To be honest, it was mostly chatter about how, once again, you wanted what he had and you were a bastard for it.”
He swallows hard. “I vaguely remember that. And for the record, I didn’t mean Charlie. I just meant what he and Charlie have. I wanted that. I wanted a place in my family again, but I thought it was too late for that. I thought they’d given up on me, but your note helped me see how wrong that was. I’d given up on myself.”
I smile. “I know, Branson. You said it about ten times that night, that you didn’t want his woman. Just one like her. Who made your face light up the way his does whenever she
walks into a room. Even as drunk as you were, it was really pretty endearing.”
He groans, rubbing his jaw. “Anyways, let’s get this over with,” he grumbles before launching right into it.
His story begins the night she showed up as his place—but then I listen as he backtracks and tells me what he discovered about his dad. Hearing how hard he worked to try and make his father proud, my heart breaks for the twenty-one-year-old version of Branson, unable to comprehend how it would feel to have everything pulled out from under you for circumstances beyond your control. As I get the rest of the story, I have mixed feelings and have to remind myself that this was twelve years ago, that Branson’s not that same kid looking for his father’s approval. Now that I’m getting all the backstory, I understand the rift in the family, my heart aching for both brothers in this situation. It all makes sense. The way Amelia and the rest of the family seemed to take me in right away. How Branson would rather have pretended to be engaged just so his mom would smile at him with genuine affection—the way she did in the hospital.
“It’s not that Megan was all bad. At first, things were good. After Knox left, we settled into a relationship, but we weren’t exclusive. I was so busy with school—and then work—that we dated more casually than anything. Once she graduated, things got more serious. She wanted to be the wife of a businessman, and as a businessman, I wanted a wife.” He cringes as he looks away from me. “I know how that sounds, but it’s the truth. Just like that asshole you came so close to marrying. But I promise you—I’m not that guy anymore.”
I give him a reassuring smile. “I know, Branson. You were back then, but you’re not anymore. At least not with me.”
“I’m not. And I think you’re the reason. I don’t even want to think about going back to work when I know you’ll be home. With her, she was a complete afterthought, and I should’ve known that it would’ve never worked out, but my mind was too focused on becoming what I thought Dad and the board would want in a future CEO, and having a wife, a family, was one of them.”
“So that’s how you ended up married even though you didn’t love her?” I ask, this whole scenario sounding all too familiar.
He lets out a deep sigh and swallows hard. “We were compatible and we wanted the same things, so getting married seemed like the natural step. By that point, we’d been a couple for over four years. At first, she embraced the wife role with enthusiasm. She loved throwing cocktail parties and entertaining clients. But over time, she got bored and lonely. Which was partially my fault. I wanted so badly to prove myself to Dad that I started taking on more responsibilities at work and I jumped at every chance to go on business trips. Megan traveled with me at first, but eventually, even that got old for her.”
He shrugs and reverts his eyes back to mine. “Megan didn’t single-handedly ruin our marriage. It was a joint effort, and to be honest, it was doomed from the very beginning. We didn’t love each other. We loved the idea of what we could be for each other, and that clearly wasn’t enough. So yeah, it wasn’t all her fault. She just dealt the final blow when she fucked around on me. Not that it should have come as a surprise. We hadn’t slept together in months. I guess it wasn’t exactly shocking to find out she was getting it elsewhere.”
A shiver runs down my spine, knowing full well that my marriage to Benjamin would’ve been just as Branson described. “And you?” I ask hesitantly, needing to know if the indiscretions worked both ways.
His eyes darken, his brows drawing together. “I may not have been a good husband, Ariana, but I was always faithful.” His lips twitch, and his eyes soften. “That’s probably why I’ve barely let you leave the bedroom this past month.”
“Well, then, I guess I should probably send Megan a thank-you card. You know, since you were able to warm me up from my frigid state.”
He laughs, sitting up and sliding over to me, careful to keep his leg stretched out in front of him. Doctor’s orders say that he should be trying to bend it, at least a little bit, but since it’s date night, I decide to let my bossy side take the night off.
He takes hold of my left hand, his thumb running over his grandmother’s ring. “It’s kind of funny. Dad never offered this ring to me with Megan, but he didn’t hesitate to give it to me for you.”
I take a moment to study the ring before looking up at him. “Maybe that’s because he was appalled at that garish engagement ring that was on my finger before.”
His gaze lingers on my lips for a few beats. Then he looks back at the ring, his hand still toying with my finger. “Probably. It’s weird. The woman I’ve come to know over the last month? I can’t imagine her ever accepting a ring like that.”
“I know. And I could say the same thing to you. Everything you’ve just told me about your life with Megan? I can’t picture it. Sure, you’ve had to take a few work calls, but you’re attentive and always present when we’re together. The man you described? I figured he’d be itching to get back to the office, not hanging out on the couch all day with me.”
“I never had a reason to stay home. Now, I do.”
My heart skips a beat, but Branson changes course in our conversation before I can savor the feeling.
“What about you? How’d you end up with that guy?”
I wrinkle my nose, and he laughs, leaning down and giving me a quick peck on the lips.
“Come on, babe. If I had to spill, it’s only fair that you reciprocate. Spare me the details though. Atlanta’s not that far away, and even with my crutches, I’d kick his ass if I have to.”
Letting out a sigh, I know it’s only fair that I tell him about Benjamin. “Looking back, it’s really a dumb story. It’s embarrassing how close I came to having a marriage like yours and Megan’s.” I place my hand over his when he winces. “It’s not exactly the same, but what I mean is there wasn’t any love there. Not really. My dad set up us, and we hit it off. He was intelligent, educated, and dedicated to his job. He was attentive at first, and we just kind of fell into a relationship. Growing up, I watched my parents in a passionless marriage, yet neither of them seemed miserable. Our families were friends, and last fall, he proposed in a very public setting, in front of everyone. We’d talked marriage before, but nothing serious, so I was in a state of shock. I hesitated, and I should’ve known that very second that I didn’t want to marry him. But then I looked up and saw his expectant smile, the huge grins on our mothers’ faces, and the look of pride my father was giving me. So I said yes.”
“So what happened? Why’d you run?” His voice is low and husky. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Our mothers threw themselves into wedding planning. All I had to do was show up and give the final approval. It was extremely stress-free, and to be honest, it helped me remain detached from the wedding. But as the day grew closer, I got cold feet. I started questioning if I could really go through with it, yet I never actually took a step back to truly consider calling it off. That would’ve been too much of a disappointment to William and Victoria, and the old Ariana Covington did not disappoint her parents. The night of the accident was our rehearsal dinner. I happened to overhear some things, and it was enough to get me to leave. I told him it was over, got in my car, and drove north. The rest, as you know it, is history.”
“History, huh?” he asks, his tone teasing.
“The other stuff is history,” I tell him, placing a hand on his thigh. “This is very much my present. And to be honest, I think I’m happier here than I’ve ever been.”
“What exactly did you overhear, Ariana?”
I shake my head. “Nothing worth repeating. Just know it was enough to get me to leave.”
He cocks an eyebrow. I know he’s not going to let this go, but just as he’s about to speak, I feel the limo come to a stop. Over the intercom, the driver announces our arrival, and Branson’s expression changes to one of pure excitement.
“Are you ready for this?” he asks. His grin is contagious.
“My first dat
e with you? I’d say it’s a long time coming.”
The driver opens the door on Branson’s side, taking first his crutches and then helping him out. Branson gets situated before he leans in and holds a hand out to me. I take it and exit the limo. My eyes widen as I see where we are. Then I turn to him with an excited grin.
“Seriously?” I ask, and his smile deepens.
I had no idea what Branson had planned, but this is not what I was thinking. This is beyond anything I could have imagined, and it’s perfect.
“Ever been here before?” He practically beams when I shake my head. “Then let’s go.” He starts to crutch towards the front door, and I fall into step beside him as we enter Dave and Buster’s. “Let’s grab something to eat first, then I can show off all my badass skills in the arcade.”
“Works for me,” I tell him. Then I tug on the sleeve of his shirt. He stops and turns to me, looking surprised when I wrap my arms around his waist. I crane my neck to look up at him. “It’s only the beginning, but I can already tell this is going to be the best first date ever.”
With a smile, he leans down and gives me a searing kiss that leaves me breathless when he pulls away. “It’s going to be the best date ever,” he says, amending my statement.
I can’t argue with that.
NOT WORTH repeating? Fuck that. There’s a reason this guy finally pushed her away, and I want to know what it is. She wanted full disclosure, and I want the same. I have half a mind to tell the driver to turn around and head back home so I can tie her to the bed and use any means necessary to make her talk.
Just as I’m about to open my mouth to demand more, Ariana’s saved by the buzz of the intercom as the driver informs us that we’ve arrived at our destination. Fuck me. I put my plans on hold, but not far from my mind.
Although my curiosity is more than piqued when it comes to that asshole, when we get out of the limo, her eyes light up as she takes in the huge building before us. As she wraps her arms around my waist, I forget everything else—at least for the time being. I plan on making this the best date of her life, so all ex talk is left in the limo to be discussed another day.