Wine & Whiskey: Everything for You (Surviving Absolution Book 2)

by Nikki Belaire

  “Keep talking.” Both her body and her voice soften, the wall around her heart cracking a little. Gina’s tough, but she still has a gentle core he loves to reach.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  She leans back against him, her closeness making the rest of his body ache too.

  “I need you.”

  Her fingertips glide down the front of his pants. “I can tell.”

  “So, can I see you later?”

  She gives him a squeeze before letting her hand drop and walking away.

  He smiles to himself. That’s fine. He’s willing to work for it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Golden shadows flicker across Shae’s face before her head dips to lean on Nick’s shoulder. She snuggles against him, curling her fingers around his hand, her wedding ring brushing his. Warmed more by her soft touch than the dancing flames at their feet, he nuzzles her hair. “Tired?”

  “A little.”

  Her eyes droop with sleepiness, yet her smile never falters. His heart pounds at her joy, pure and abundant, for him and their marriage, and he fights the urge to steal her away from their friends. She deserves to enjoy the celebration for as long as she wants.

  He brings her hand to his mouth and kisses the diamond band gracing her delicate finger. Stunning him with both her glowing radiance and unwavering certainty as she said her vows, his own lost voice in the humbling realization she’s finally and fully his. She wears his rings and carries his name as well as his child. The only wish he’s ever made has come true—Shae is his wife. “We can go upstairs. I’m pretty sure the party will continue without us.”

  “In a few minutes. I’m not ready for this night to end yet.”

  Carrie climbs off Nathan’s lap and steps over Max’s outstretched legs to the side table covered with the remnants of their festivities. “Do you want a refill, Shae?”

  “No, thank you. I’m good.”

  Her fingertips trail across the corks, past the non-alcoholic version, before swiping an open bottle and swaying back to Nathan. He raises his eyebrows as she lifts the rim to her mouth. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you drank like this?”

  She puts her hands on her hips, sloshing the gold liquid onto her blue dress. “Nathan, don’t you remember what happened the last time I drank like this?”

  Laughter floats across the recessed circle of benches at Nathan’s huge smile. “Drink up, woman.”

  “I like your friends.”

  Shae lifts up from his shoulder and smiles at Gina. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

  Almost as much as he is. Although no words are sufficient enough to convey his gratitude to her for taking care of Shae after Spencer kidnapped her. For protecting her as best she could from an unstable bastard who was fucked up enough to think Shae would ever be his. He returns the favor the only way he can—she and her father will always be under his protection.

  After catching Shae in her third yawn, he kisses her temple. “Ready?”

  At her heavy nod, he pulls her up before turning back to their friends. “Good night all. Enjoy the rest of the champagne.”

  Carrie grabs Gina’s hand and begins dancing with her in front of Nathan, trying to pull him off the cushion to join them. “We will. Don’t worry.”

  Jesus Christ. When did his deck turn into a fucking strip club? He holds back his laughter at Nathan’s wide-eyed expression from the two women grinding in front of him. “Good luck with that. I know you’ve been drinking too, so you and Carrie are welcome to stay in the guest house or have Jacks drive you home.”

  They walk hand in hand into the house, escorted by Carrie’s squeals of laughter behind them. In the living room, they pause as Max calls to him.

  “I’ll see you upstairs.” She kisses his cheek before turning to Max. “Good night.”

  Once she passes the landing, Max nods to him and taps on his phone. “The call about Salvador checks out. His file shows the deterioration and the recommendation from the doctor.”

  “Good. I’ll take Oscar with me in the morning. You can stay here with Shae.”

  Max smirks and shakes his head. “You know she’s not going to go for that.”

  “I’ll convince her.”

  Now, it’s Max’s laughter following him as he jogs up the stairs.

  Silent emptiness greets him as he steps into the bedroom. Only her glittery high heels sitting next to the sofa provide evidence she’s here. “Shae?”

  He pushes open the bathroom door, and his chest clenches at her kneeling on the floor, her eyes closed, body shivering, holding her stomach.

  Fuck no.

  Everything except for her blurs around him as he drops down onto the cold tile next to her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m si—” She raises up on her knees and grasps the toilet rim before vomiting.

  His racing pulse slows while the panic engulfing him evaporates. She’s fine. They’re fine. Miserable, but all right.

  She lets out a deep breath before sitting back on her heels. “I didn’t know morning sickness comes at night too.”

  “Me neither.” He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around her trembling shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

  He sprints through the bedroom and grabs her yellow comforter and a bottle of water. Yanking open the nightstand drawer, he rummages through various hair bands and barrettes. Too fucking many to understand what they all do, he grabs a handful and jogs back into the bathroom. She opens her eyes, a weak smile crossing her pale face. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to play nurse.”

  While she drinks, he replaces the coat with her blanket, covering her shivering body and tucking it under her legs. Gathering her hair together, he bundles the silky strands with a curled-tooth clip before sitting down next to her. “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Her voice cracks as tears roll down her cheeks.

  Rubbing his thumbs under her eyes, he ignores the churning in his chest. “Hey. Why are you crying?”

  “You’re so wonderful. I know this isn’t how you planned on spending your wedding night.”

  “Well, a wise woman once told me, sometimes we have to take the bad with the good. This is a little bit of bad…” He reaches out and brushes against the smooth material covering her stomach. “For something way better than good.”

  She covers his fingers with her hand. “This is why I love you so much. You always take good care of me.”

  If she saw her hair poking out in all directions from his pitiful styling attempt, she probably wouldn’t be so generous with her praise. “I love you too.”

  Her eyes widen before she leans forward and retches again. He fucking hates this. To watch her suffer and not be able to do a fucking thing to stop it. They sit quietly as he rubs her back, the only thing he can think of to offer her comfort.

  “You were kind of quiet after the ceremony. Are you okay?” The scratchiness of her voice doesn’t hide her anxiety. She better not think for even a second he’s unhappy. Especially with her. Or about them.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I was thinking about my mother. I wish she could have been here.”

  “Me too. I never thought I would get married without my mom or Jason.”

  The sorrow in his chest transforms to anger at the mention of her former friend’s name. Just like Carter, he betrayed the person he claimed to care about. At least his cousin showed some remorse at the end. This motherfucker never accepted her decision or her happiness. He pushes out a long sigh, reining in his fury. She doesn’t need his anger on top of her grief.

  “There’s also one I’m glad who wasn’t.” He caresses her frowning face. “The hospital called earlier. My father’s body is shutting down, and they’re going to take him off life support. I have to go tomorrow and sign the papers.”

  Her fingers curl around his hand at her belly. The feel of her gentle touch more comfort than she’ll ever understand. “I’m sorry. I know this brings up a lot of bad memories.”


  He shakes his head. No need for any sympathy. “I’m just glad it’ll finally be over.”

  “It may not be that simple.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  She tilts her head and smiles, forgiving him as always for being a stubborn ass. “Okay. Then, it will be easy for us to take care of everything.”

  Nausea rolls through his stomach at the fear he knows is irrational. That bastard can’t hurt her, yet he refuses to take any chances. Not with her. Not with either of them. “Only me. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

  Her fingers slide under his shirt and rub his back, melting the tension straining his muscles. Making his body relax under her touch. “You seem to have forgotten we’re in this together now.”

  His wife—stunning, smart, generous, and most of all, mysterious. He’ll never figure out how she always manages to reach him, to pull him out of his own torment and back to her. He only hopes she draws solace from his presence like she provides to him. “I always remember.”

  “Now look at us.” She pinches the silky fabric of her gown between her fingers before smiling at him again, a bit of color back in her cheeks. “When Sabrina gave me this, I’m sure she wasn’t expecting it to be worn sitting on the bathroom floor.”

  “Probably not. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, but I need to brush my teeth. Will you please help me with my dress?”

  She accepts his hand and stands up slowly before he pulls the fabric over her head. “Let me hang this up, and I’ll be right back.” He slips the tiny straps over an empty hook in the closet and walks back to the bathroom. Fire burns from his groin to his fingers at her standing in front of the sink wearing only a white, strapless bra and lacy thong. “Fucking shit, sweetness. You’re going to have to take back the nice things you said about me earlier with all the dirty thoughts going through my head from you wearing that thing.”

  Her fingertips trace the waistband above her bare bottom and down her thigh before she shrugs. “The material was kind of clingy, and I didn’t want to wear panties that—”

  “You have got to stop saying shit like that and put some clothes on.”

  She giggles through the minty foam and bends over to spit.

  Okay, he’s done. She needs her robe. Now. He grabs it from the chair and holds it up for her to slide into. Once she ties the belt, he grasps her hand and leads her to the bed. After she slides in, he leans over and kisses her neck. “I’ll be right back.”

  Soft fingers reach backward and caress his cheek. “Don’t be too long.”

  He strides into the bathroom, jerking off his tie and slinging his jacket on the chair. It’s going to take everything he has to resist her when he returns. Especially because she’ll let him make love to her. She’ll welcome his touch, her sweet body responding to him, breathless and arching under his fingertips. Never admitting she’s exhausted. Not wanting to disappoint him. He flies through brushing his teeth and flips off the light, unable to be away from her any longer than he has to.

  His breath catches as he steps back into the bedroom. She’s so beautiful and peaceful curled onto her side. Her delicate hand rests on the pregnancy book Dr. Patterson gave her, the diamonds sparkling in the soft light from the nightstand lamp. He smiles at his own idiocy.

  The rings look ridiculously huge on her petite fingers, unnecessary with her lack of concern for money and extravagance. At the time he bought the first one, he needed to somehow fill the ache of trying to prove his love to her, of showing her that she’s everything he’s ever wanted and needed. Now she’s his, and he refuses to let her ever suffer again because of it.

  Her bookmark slides across the open pages as he climbs in next to her. “What are you reading about?”

  “His development.” Her quiet voice stirs the contentment in his soul only she can give him. “‘At this stage, your baby is about the size of a kidney bean or grape, and he’s starting to look more and more human with fully formed eyes, tiny earlobes, and distinct mouth and nose’.”

  He wraps his arms around her and pulls her against his chest. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and so are you.” The top of her head tucks under his chin. “Everything for the wedding was absolutely wonderful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her slender shoulders hunch, the tiny pink strap of her negligee sliding down her arm. Damn. He’s dying here. The cashmere skin needing to be tasted.

  “But I’m sorry about tonight.”

  No guilt allowed. She’s suffered enough without adding self-blame on top of it. “It’s okay. We’ve got every night for the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

  “Every night? That’s a bit optimistic, don’t you think, Mr. DeMarco?”

  She taunts him, knowing the desire she flames in him by making him say her new name, reminding him his fantasy has come true. “I’m up for the challenge, Mrs. DeMarco.”

  Her fingertips skim over his boxer briefs, straining from the throbbing need for her. “I can tell.”

  “I’m going to have to sleep on the sofa if you don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  A worthless threat if she touches him anymore. A contented sigh crosses her smiling lips before she slides her hand back to his arm wrapped around her waist. “Okay, I promise to be good.”

  He kisses her again before turning off the light and closing his eyes too. “You already are. Now go to sleep.”

  Only the sound of her gentle breathing fills the room, her flowery scent surrounding them in their peace. Everything he imagined is now his reality. Sometimes still difficult to accept, to believe she belongs to him, and they’ll never be apart. How what he never thought possible came true. For him. Because of her.

  “Nick?”

  Thinking she was already asleep, his body flushes at her whisper in the darkness. “Yeah, sweetness?”

  “I don’t know if I ever tell you enough, or explain very well how you make me feel.” She folds her arms over his, hugging him tighter. Almost undoing him with the intensity of her tone. “Very few people are this lucky. To know they never have to worry. That they’ll always be loved. No matter what.”

  He kisses her hair, holding back from everything else he wants to feel with her. To show her how correct she is. “That’s right. You’re safe and loved. Forever.”

  “I didn’t think I would ever find it. And now, lying here with you, I’ve got it. Just like you promised me. We’ll have a family and grow old together. You’ve created the perfect life for me, for us. Thank you for giving me that. For giving me everything.” Her deep breath blows against his skin, and she snuggles in, her body softening. “I love you.”

  How can he respond? What sentiment could match the depth of devotion this angel feels for him? He utters the only words he can manage. “I love you too, Shae.”

  The ache in his chest throbs stronger at the realization of her commitment. He’s been blind to the truth, wanting her so badly, not thinking beyond the present. Not considering what their life will be like past the here and now. How her feelings toward him might change. And he can’t do a damn fucking thing about it.

  Only a few minutes pass before she drifts off. The stress of the last few days catching up with her. Much needed rest claiming her quickly, while worry steals his drowsiness. She remains still, no soft protests when he climbs out of bed, yanks on a pair of sweatpants, and jogs downstairs.

  In the kitchen, Max’s eyes widen as his fork pauses in the ascension to his mouth. “I knew you were a fucking dumb ass, but this proves it.”

  Nick strides past him, jerking open the liquor cabinet door and grabbing a glass. “What?”

  “Maybe we need to have a talk about what you’re supposed to be doing on your wedding night.”

  “She had morning sickness.” He takes a long drink, welcoming the burn down his throat to match the fire torching his gut. “Now, she’s asleep.”

  “And?”

  “I thought I’d get her some juice for i
n the morning. It seemed to help earlier when she was nauseous.”

  Max looks from the prismed bottle to him, his frowning smirk calling bullshit on his lie. “That’s not juice.”

  Yeah, and he’s not the man she thinks he is. “I’m getting it.”

  His friend shakes his head, lowering the plate to the counter, empty except for the almost demolished cake. “All right, what is it?”

  “What is what?”

  “You. This.” The clank of the utensil against the chocolate covered dish is the only sound in the quiet house. “Shae, your wife, the only woman you’ve ever loved, is in your bed alone, and you’re down here with me. Which I know is killing you. So, whatever it is, spit it out.”

  “Do you know what she told me?” He drives his hand through his hair, trying to calm the doubt raging through him. The fear engulfing him that he won’t be able to stop the downward spiral when the reality of their life sets in for her. “That I’ve given her the perfect life. How fucked up is that?”

  “Why is it fucked up? I would hope that’s what a woman thinks when she gets married. She loves you. You make her happy.”

  “How happy is she going to be when her son, who she probably thinks is going to be a teacher or an accountant, gets pulled into the business? Shot through the head when the next bastard guns against him for the top. Or when her daughter can’t leave the house without security? Can’t go to preschool or fucking dance class without an entourage of bodyguards. Yeah, that’s the fucking perfect life.”

  He downs another long drink. The sharp liquid unable to quell the battle raging in his head. All that he wants with her may be what drives her away from him. Their happiness creating their sorrow.

  His friend’s low voice pulls him from his thoughts. “Then I guess there's only one thing you can do."

  "What?"

  "Divorce her."

  An inferno blazes through his taut body, the first time he's ever been truly pissed at his best friend. Max's fucking lost it if he thinks that would ever fucking happen. "Fuck you. I will never leave her."

  “Then stop fucking doubting her. We both know she's not stupid. She understands who you are and what you do. I mean, she survived fucking everything Juan and Spencer put her through, and she still wants you after that. She knew what she was getting herself into when she said yes.”