Hitched: Spinoff from the Dark Romance Thriller Series: Edge and Whisper Are Getting Married

by Emma James

  “Already started our first date. Crossed the wedding off and now moving onto the party.”

  He takes another swig before crossing his arms across his chest. “You got some love-at-first-sight thing going on in that head of yours.”

  “Jesus Christ! We aren’t professing our love, we just feel a connection we want to investigate more, and it starts now, and we will see where it leads. I’m just making it exclusive until we figure out if what we are feeling is gonna be something bigger. You always this nosy?”

  “Nope. Just enjoyin’ watching a brother go all caveman.” He gives me a smug grin. “Watched you out the corner of my eye at the wedding ceremony sittin’ in the chair all cozied up to Flora. You look good together, brother.” Hazard takes another pull of his beer. “You know, I’ve seen Flora briefly a time or two from afar. Stunner.”

  My inner green monster raises his green flag.

  “I even asked after Flora and Edge told me a thing or two about her. You know Bowie is without a father?”

  “Yeah, I learned me a thing or three this afternoon.” I sound defensive, and that makes Hazard turn up his grin to full wattage. “You got somethin’ better to be doing than playin’ with my head?” I rumble at him turning to look back at Flora.

  “Nope. Not really. I hope it all works out for you, brother. She’s a nice looking female and got a good head on her too. I’d thought about asking her out to dinner a time or two, but didn’t take that leap. Edge warned me off messing with her. Flora’s different. She steers clear—”

  “Yeah-yeah… I know that too.” And I do. I know she’s not thrown herself at me, but she’s different from the other females. “We’ve talked.”

  “You gonna mess with her, Torque?”

  “Jesus, Hazard, mind your own fucking business. I’ll treat her right. I know she’s a lady.” Fuck’s sake!

  “Well, look at that…” Hazard trails off.

  “What?” If he weren’t yabbering on at me, I would have seen what he is referring to.

  “See the way her back has gone ramrod straight just now, and her head is fighting the pull towards looking back over her shoulder?” Well, fuck. Hazard is right. “She knows you’re close. She’s aware of you, and she doesn’t have to turn around to confirm it. Edge knows when Whisper walks in the room, and he doesn’t have to see her to know it. Guarantee Flora wants you over there, letting her know you haven’t forgotten her.”

  “Maybe I’m just appreciating the scenery for a couple of minutes.” I am, but I do want to get to her.

  “I hear ya. Nice view,” Hazard replies before moving away from me, and don’t I just feel a little proud as I nod at him and head over to my woman.

  Because I don’t doubt I’ve already made her mine. I just gotta figure out if she’s gonna be on the same page as my heart because this feeling I’ve got has taken me entirely by surprise, and it is relentless. She says she’s willing to try.

  I’ve always been good at listening to what my instinct radar tells me, and I haven’t been wrong yet. It would be pretty fucked if my radar is broken.

  And in the blink of an eye, I find myself growling like a feral animal.

  I’m standing beside the passenger door of the silver Mercedes sedan Edge has rented to drive me home in from Cuvier Park.

  “Wife, you were supposed to wait for me to open the door for you.” He lets out a huff of air at the same time as eyeing me up hungrily. “Babe, you are fucking beautiful.”

  Edge took me on the scenic drive home so we could enjoy a little ‘us’ time, and while it was nice being by ourselves, I’m so glad to be home because my breasts are about to start spraying milk.

  We talked about the day, avoiding the three white elephants in the room, being my hands and elbow, and the way Torque and Boxer both let out little grunts and groans when they thought nobody was listening. Both of them were walking considerably stiffer as the day wore on. Gravel rash is not a lot of fun. It has this insistent burn that wakes up after the painkillers wear off.

  I am holding off taking another one until I can express the buildup of milk out of my breasts. They are becoming hard and sore.

  How romantic.

  I let out a little whoop of surprise as I find myself scooped up into my husband’s arms, one arm swinging around his neck. I idly play with the sexy scruff on his face, ignoring the sting of my hands. I didn’t want Edge clean shaven for our wedding. I prefer him comfortably hairy.

  “You don’t think you are gonna walk into our house without me carrying you over the threshold, do you, babe?”

  “To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about this tradition. I’ve been on such a high all day. Everything has been perfect, and I feel so blessed.”

  “Wife, I’ve been so blessed from the minute you let me into your life, and as far as the day being perfect... there is still that little ol’ mishap, as you like to call it that remains unaccounted for. Against my better judgment, I’m letting it slide because you’ve asked me to. Although I doubt very much, I’ll be as understanding when the truth gets fully revealed. I’m all ears when you want to come clean. I’ve already worked out my brothers and Boxer, and all the female bridal party is siding with you and keeping it under lock and key. You have until tomorrow as your grace period, and then you need to spill the beans. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. Today is not for mishap storytelling, but for feeling blessed, I’m alive and married to my prince, who didn’t give up until I got saved.”

  “Fuck... babe...” Edge nuzzles my cheek with his nose until I turn my mouth to meet his.

  I could kiss this man all night.

  After I’ve had nowhere near enough of my fill, I break away from the kiss, imagining my weight to be getting too heavy for Edge to handle. I’m also slightly uncomfortable. It must show on my face.

  “Whisper, what’s wrong? I don’t think I kiss that badly.” Edge searches my face to find what I’m holding back. “Shit, babe… you in pain?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “So, your hands and elbow aren’t hurting anymore?” Doubt laces through his words.

  “Weeell...” I trail off because technically they are hurting. “Just a case of swollen breasts full to the brim with milk. They will turn into rocks if I don’t attend to them soon. Colton’s been through all the day bottles I expressed for him, and I don’t want to touch the ones I have for tonight and during the night. I need Colton to relieve the pressure before my milk starts squirting all over my dress, and then I’ll get on the pump.”

  I pull a silly face. “I know it’s not very romantic for my wedding day, but I should have put the breast pump in the baby bag Lily’s been carrying around, just in case I needed it, but I hoped I could get through. I’ll admit they’re starting to feel like they’re on fire. I think you had better get me over the threshold before my breasts explode.” I can’t help laughing at the look on Edge’s face when his eyes slide down to my chest.

  “Do you need me to take you to the bedroom and selfishly take what’s Colton’s?” Edge grins waggling his eyebrows, which only makes me laugh harder.

  “Darling, I might let you relieve another part of me once I’m done, and you think the party can do without us for half an hour?”

  “Only half an hour to attend to Colton, fill a bottle, and have pre-party sex?”

  “We have guests. I think half an hour will be more acceptable with breastfeeding as my excuse, any longer, and you know your brothers will start hollering and calling foul.”

  “I can work within the half-hour.”

  “Oh, I know you can. Now I need you to walk me over the threshold because I’m pretty sure there will be cameras waiting to capture candid pictures, and I don’t need breast milk spraying my dress wet, and then I can make my excuse to look after Colton, and you can talk to the children while I’m feeding our baby.”

  “Or I can help you to slip out of that dress and put on a robe so I can watch your luscious, naked breasts feed our baby an
d wait patiently for my turn to show your breasts how much I respect them for feeding Colton?”

  “No hidden agenda as to why I would need to take the whole dress off to feed Colton?”

  “Nope. None at all. Only thinking about your comfort, wife.” Edge’s arm pulls me tighter against him.

  “We better get mov—”

  My words are cut off by the hungry kiss, which sets my heart on fire and leaves me moaning, yearning for the relief only my husband can give me.

  I need to get this milk out of me so I can be naked for my husband even if it is only for five minutes. We’ve got tonight and our forever to take our time.

  Edge’s lips move in front of my ear, whispering words that want me to forget all about the uncomfortable breast pump.

  “Now, I’ve let you know what you’ve got to look forward to in the five minutes we will have spare, I’m ready to walk you over the threshold.”

  “And, I can’t wait for you to spend those five minutes wisely,” I murmur as we walk through the front door to loud cheers and flashes blinking at us.

  God, I’m so ridiculously in love with this man’s body, heart, and soul.

  “Daddy!” my daughter squeals at me when I enter the twins’ bedroom, arms raised as she throws her little body at me. I scoop her up, swinging her into my arms.

  “Princess,” I laugh, kissing her cheek.

  I find it hard to believe this complete happiness I have found won’t get yanked away from me.

  I have peace and laughter in my life.

  My life is good.

  And that’s what scares me.

  I keep my fears closely guarded, but it feels too perfect.

  Is this really how my life is going to stay?

  “Daddy...” Harper has my cheeks in her hands. “Daddy... are you in there?” Her nose is nearly touching mine so she can look closely at my eyes as though she’s using them to try to see right inside my mind, except she’s going cross-eyed.

  I give a short laugh and rub her nose with mine before pulling my head back a little. “Sorry, Pumpkin, I was just thinking about how lucky my life is and how grateful I am to have you all as my family.” She lets go of my cheeks, her expression turning serious.

  “You got something on your mind, Harper?”

  Her mouth opens, and then it shuts, and then she lets out a little sigh. “Daddy... can I whisper a secret to you?”

  Harper makes me grin stupidly at this request. I happily oblige her, tilting my ear close to her lips. “Go for it, baby; I’m all ears.”

  “Now, I’m not crazy. I want you to know that, first,” my daughter murmurs in my ear.

  I stifle a laugh trying to hide my amusement from my adorable daughter. “Duly noted. Please continue.”

  “Well...” she pauses, her sweet breath fanning my ear, “you might not believe me.”

  “I promise to believe you, sweetheart.” Her hesitancy is beginning to worry me. My protective nature is starting to raise a rainbow of flags.

  “Okay... Daddy.” She takes a deep breath and holds it in. “NanaCatherinecametotheweddingandshewavedatme,” comes out on a whoosh of air.

  My head shoots back in surprise.

  Didn’t see that one coming.

  Not that I’m disbelieving what she’s just said to me, but that is one hell of a thing to come out of her cherubic lips.

  My heart picks up its beat.

  Is it possible?

  Maybe sometimes, you have to be as innocent as a flower to be able to see. “Well, I hope you waved back to Nana Catherine.”

  “I did. She was standing beside you and Mommy while you said your vows. “I really wanted to hug Nana Catherine, but then she disappeared. She looked like she was crying, but happy.” And doesn’t that pluck at my heartstrings.

  I give her a reassuring hug and whisper in her ear, “Thank you for telling me your secret. I will guard it with my life. Maybe the next time you see her, you can tell me?”

  I look around the twins’ neat room and smile at Presley and Bowie, who break away in mid sentence, their heads still close together as they stare at me.

  I cock my head on the side and study the two of them.

  They resume their huddle of whispering that turns louder on Presley’s behalf, ending with my son slapping his forehead and shaking his head.

  “Here we go,” Harper groans. “You can put me down, Daddy, I don’t need to hear this again. Seriously—” she holds her hands up—”I’m not even eight years old. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.” She wriggles in my arms, so I let her down gently, making sure she’s got her feet under her before I let go. She looks up at me. “Daddy, boys really can say the silliest things.” And then she skips towards the bedroom door in her ballet flats, the tutu skirt of her dress flouncing. I’m afraid she won’t see the stairs if she keeps skipping towards them.

  “Haarper!” I warn.

  She comes to an abrupt stop. “I know,” she sighs the words. “No running or skipping near the stairs.”

  She fell down a few stairs when she was six, and that was that. I have father-fear pretty much from that day onward—it’s a real thing. It’s an enigma why she’s so clumsy. Precautions need to get taken to minimalize injuries, and she knows it.

  “You got it, Pumpkin.” Then I turn my attention back to the boys.

  I cross my arms and eye the two of them up because something is going on. “Boys... what’s up?”

  “Mr. Masson—”

  “Dude, let your mom handle it,” Presley groans, cutting his friend off.

  “Dude... I gotta man up.” Bowie mutters out the corner of his mouth, his eyes darting back and forth nervously.

  “Dude... seriously, just let it play out tomorrow. Now’s not the time.” His voice is that of a child, but my son is a man-child in a boy’s body.

  “Can’t do that. I’m the man of the house, not my mom,” Bowie whisper-growls out of the corner of his mouth, which has me respecting Bowie’s courage.

  They both look quite comical, but I can’t let on my amusement. I stop myself from rolling my eyes and laughing at these two. I have to wear the parent pants and get to the bottom of Bowie’s manning up dilemma.

  “Bowie?” The kid is sending red-flags up, acting all nervous around me, and that isn’t like him at all. The boy is usually full of confidence.

  Presley and Bowie start shooting weird looks at each other. If I have to hazard a guess, I would say Presley is telling Bowie to calm down telepathically and to keep his mouth sealed shut.

  “Mr. Masson, I need to have a word with you privately.”

  “Your funeral, dude, just stick to what happened to my mom and not the other...” Presley advises.

  Christ!

  “I’ll take your dad’s wrath like a grown-up.”

  What the fuck is Bowie going on about? I don’t have any wrath when it comes to these kids. They’re all good kids. Where is this all coming from? And then it hits me—Whisper’s injuries.

  “Presley, go find your sister.”

  “Dad...”

  “Do you trust me, Presley?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Correct answer.

  “Then let me handle this, and you go find your sister.” My son goes to walk past me. I gently give his shoulder a light squeeze reassuring him and wait for him to leave the room.

  “Right, Bowie. Let’s get this over with, man-to-man.” If Whisper is protecting Bowie, then I trust she’s handled it already. The kid’s out to now protect Flora from my apparent wrath. I take a seat on Presley’s bed.

  “Mr. Masson”—Bowie stands a little straighter, squaring his shoulders off—”I’m about to confess to you two things—”

  “Here we go...” Presley says, sounding exasperated from outside the room.

  My boy is staying put for his friend. Their friendship is strong.

  “Yup... well, you better be getting on with it then,” I urge him to continue with a hand movement.

  And then I hear the tale o
f the skateboard and how Whisper got hurt and how Boxer and Torque are sporting more than gravel rash.

  Just when I think he’s finished, we get to the crux of the matter.

  “So you see, sir, I’m gonna marry your daughter one day—”

  What the fuck?

  And that’s about all I hear of what Bowie is going on about.

  I find myself towering over and staring down four feet of eight-year-old. I know he’s closer to nine, but he’s still fucking eight!

  I hold my hands up. ‘Whoa there, big guy. Did you just say you were gonna marry my daughter?”

  “Yes, sir.” The kid is holding his position.

  I sit back down on the bed, one elbow resting on my knee while I rub my chin, taking a minute to let the words swim about in my mind.

  Is this kid serious?

  “Sir, I am serious.” I gather my facial expression gave me away. Or did I mutter those words out loud?

  “I am not marrying that boy!” Harper says, sternly from outside the bedroom.

  “Nobody says you have to marry Bowie,” Presley’s voice is authoritative.

  No shit!

  “Sir...” Christ! My attention swivels back to the four feet of man-boy standing before me.

  “How about you let the lady make that decision in say... oh... fifteen years? For now, I would advise you—man-to-man—to treat Harper with the utmost respect and show her the gentleman you are.” I stand up, letting him know our conversation is over.

  “Harper and Presley get in here, please.”

  I hear whispering and the shuffling of feet before two angelic heads peer around the doorjamb. Presley is grinning at me, and Harper is glaring at Bowie.

  “Not gonna happen, Bowie,” my daughter says on a huff before she spins around like a little diva and disappears again.

  Well, that settles that.

  “Presley, from tomorrow, you’ve got this room to yourself. Harper is moving into the study, and when Nana Lily and Jakob head back to Norway, she’s going in Miss Catherine’s room. You understand why?”

  “Sure do,” he responds, not at all sounding sad to have the room to himself. “Gonna hurt Harper’s feelings, Dad.”