All Mine

by Lisa Renee Jones

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Carrie

  I can’t even pace. I’m in my dress, ordered not to move, and waiting for Cat to come back to my holding room after giving Reid his mother’s letter. I turn and stare at myself in the mirror, my hair now a silky brown veil of beautiful waves the stylist created. The dress—it’s perfection. The sheer sleeves, the sheer bottom, the etched flowers in the center. It’s everything a girl could dream about in a wedding dress. Even the vee of the bodice is sexy but now altered to cover me fully for the group setting.

  My cellphone buzzes with a text and I grab it from my purse that’s on a chair I’m not allowed to sit on. It’s from Reid, and it reads: I read the letter from my mother and all I could think was that I want to talk to you, which tells me I’m marrying my best friend. So hurry the hell up and come marry me already.

  My heart swells with love for this man. I reply with: From enemies to best friends. That’s pretty perfect.

  His reply: You were never my enemy. You were always the woman I was falling in love with. Come to me, baby.

  My reply: I’m on my way.

  I stuff my phone back in my purse and Mia is standing in front of me. “That was him, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “You glow when you talk to him the way I do when it’s Grayson. I love that man so much.” Her eyes tear up. “We almost lost each other. You and Reid and your love only drive home how lucky I am to have found Grayson again. We were apart a year.”

  “I’m glad we found you as friends,” I say. “I really am. And you’re going to make me cry.”

  The door burst open and Cat appears. “It’s time,” she says. “And sorry. The baby wanted me to throw up after that emotional moment with Reid over the letter. He tried to call you,” she adds, shutting us back in the room. “I told him that wasn’t an option. It’s bad luck.”

  “He texted me.”

  “Oh good Lord. The minute I left the room. Are you ready?”

  Nerves explode in my stomach. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

  “He feels the same.”

  Another knock sounds on the door and my father enters, looking handsome in a tuxedo with a white tie to match the lilies. “Oh, honey,” he whispers. “You look stunning. That dress.”

  “Thank you, dad. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He hurries forward and hugs me. “You ready?”

  “No!” Mia says. “You need something old, new, borrowed and blue. Check down the list with me?”

  I hold up my fingers and show her the star ring. “New. I have the necklace that Cat gave me as borrowed, but nothing old or blue.”

  My father reaches in his pocket and produces a tiny bracelet. “Your first piece of jewelry when you were two.”

  “You still have that?” I ask, feeling emotional all over again.

  “Of course I do,” he says.

  “It’s perfect,” Mia says as he presses it in my hand.

  Cat offers me a safety pin. “I’m practicing my mom skills. I keep everything you can think of with me. You can pin it in your bodice.”

  “And here’s a blue ribbon,” Mia says. “I brought it just in case. You can pin it, too.”

  “Why is blue good luck?” I ask.

  “Who knows,” Mia replies. “Just go with it.”

  I laugh and pin my lucky items inside my dress. “Yes. Let’s just go with it.”

  A knock sounds and Cat opens the door. “Yes,” I hear her say. “Yes, we’re coming.”

  She turns to me. “It’s time for sure now. Let’s go make you family.”

  ***

  The letter about destroyed me.

  Losing my mother about destroyed me.

  Loving Carrie is what healed me.

  I stand waiting on her in a room filled with white lilies and roses, a swell of a hundred people from a planned smaller group now surrounding me all in rows of chairs that part for Carrie’s walk to the front. Behind me is the ice rink, the Christmas tree, and all of Rockefeller Center. The piano is playing random romantic tunes, but after reading that letter, I asked to have a song that I chose. Gabe rushes to my side. “Done, man. It’s going to play as soon as she enters the room.” I give him a nod, our version of thank you. Carrie’s father enters the room and walks in my direction. Once he’s in front of me, he says, “I’m going to walk her to you, and you’re going to protect her for the rest of her life. Understand?”

  “She’s a part of me,” I say. “I will always protect her.”

  He studies me a moment and then offers me his hand, which is a moment I never thought I’d experience. I accept his hand and we give a firm shake. He then nods and walks away. I track his path, aware that his return is Carrie’s entrance. My heart starts to race. Holy fuck, my heart is about to explode from my chest. I’m never like this. I inhale a deep breath as Carrie’s father disappears into the hallway. Another breath and the music starts, my song choice: You Say by Lauren Daigle, which makes me think of me with Carrie every time I hear it. The first line is everything I’ve ever felt with this woman: I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough.

  It keeps playing and she appears in the doorway, an angel in white who says I am enough, stunningly gorgeous, the love of my life, my best friend. She pauses at the door, and I know she’s listening to the song.

  The only thing that matters now is everything You think of me

  In You I find my worth, in You I find my identity

  She starts walking toward me and I swear I can’t breathe. One step, two, ten. She’s closer and when she stops in front of me and we face each other. The song’s next words are perfection: Taking all I have and now I'm laying it at Your feet.

  Tears pool in Carrie’s eyes and I pull her to me and kiss her, my cheek pressed to hers, lips at her ear. “I have never needed anyone like I need you. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  The song ends and the preacher clears his throat.

  I listen to his words, but I don’t see the people in the room. I just see Carrie, the woman who has changed my life. No one else exists. “Reid,” the preacher says. “Repeat after me: I, Reid Maxwell,”

  “I, Reid Maxwell.”

  “Take you, Carrie West, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

  “Take you, Carrie West, to be my lawfully wedded wife.” I don’t wait for him to feed me the rest of the vows. I fill them in. “To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I pledge myself to you.”

  Carrie’s eyes light with the same love, that I know shines in my eyes. The preacher turns to her. “Repeat after me, Carrie. I, Carrie West take you, Reid Maxwell, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I pledge myself to you.” Carrie repeats the words.

  “Well then,” the preacher says. “I now pronounce you man and wife. Reid, you may kiss your bride.”

  I pull Carrie to me and my mouth closes down on hers, and this kiss is all about love, so much love that I feel for this woman, and I feel it to my soul. I feel her in my soul and when I pull back, the room applauds and we smile.

  “Join hands and face forward,” the preacher orders.

  We do as he says and he announces, “I now present you with Reid and Carrie Maxwell.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Reid

  The dance floor is in a connecting room and Carrie and I head in that direction. Once we’re through the doors and walking onto the dance floor, she turns to me. “I want the song you played for my walk down the aisle, please.”

  I kiss her. “I’ll make it happen.”

  I cross to the DJ we hired and whisper our request. The c
rowd funnels into the room, and I return to Carrie, pulling her into my arms. “Wife.”

  She smiles a beautiful smile and says, “Husband.”

  I nuzzle her neck. “I love how that sounds.”

  “Me too,” she says, her hands settling on my jaw before I pull back to look at her. “You’re all mine now.”

  “And you’re all mine.”

  “Yes, baby, I am. All of me.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom will now share their first dance.” The song starts to play and I bury my face in Carrie’s neck, the two of us starting to sway.

  I keep fighting voices in my mind that say I’m not enough

  Carrie pulls back to look at me, stroking my cheek. “You’re everything to me,” she whispers.

  I cup her hand and kiss her knuckles, a well of emotion in my chest at those words, at the depth of emotion in her eyes. “As you are to me, Carrie,” I say. “And that both scares the hell out of me and gives me a reason to live at the same time.” The song verse lifts in the air: Taking all I have and now I'm laying it at Your feet.

  “All of me,” I repeat. “I’m not holding anything back.”

  “If I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t be your wife.”

  The room fades away and I kiss her, licking into her mouth and molding her close. The way I plan to hold her forever.

  ***

  Carrie

  The cake and the photos and every moment of the reception is perfection. In ten days, we managed to pull off the perfect fairytale wedding. Reid and I exit the Rockefeller Center with me in a beautiful, pink lace, knee-length gown, and a matching Chanel coat with confetti being thrown at us. We slide into a limo and Reid drags me to him and kisses me thoroughly before he says, “Wife,” as he has over and over during the reception.

  “Husband,” I say and we both smile.

  “Ready for our honeymoon?” he asks.

  “What? What honeymoon?”

  “You didn’t think I wouldn’t plan a honeymoon, did you? You did everything else. Everything is set. You just need to pack. We have a private plane waiting for us to take us to Italy.”

  I have a flashback to him asking me when we were in Japan, the one place I wanted to visit the most. I’d said Italy. “Really? Italy?”

  “That’s right, baby. Rome, Venice, Milan, and Florence on a two-week honeymoon.”

  “Don’t we need to work?”

  “Gabe has it handled and we’ll have phones and the internet.”

  “What about our fur babies?”

  “Cat and Reese are going to pick them up before we leave. They say it will be good practice for the baby.”

  “Oh my God. We’re really going to Italy.”

  “Yes. I was going to take you to Paris, but I saw the stars in your eyes over Italy.”

  “It’s perfect. Everything about today has been perfect.”

  “You’re perfect,” he says, molding me close. “Everything about you.”

  “Reid,” I breathe out. “God, I love you.”

  “And I love you, Carrie, maybe too much but you’re going to have to live with it.”

  “Like that’s a burden.”

  “You know I’m going to be protective.”

  “Going to be? Or are?”

  “I guess you’ve gotten a taste of me in all ways.”

  “I want another taste now,” I dare.

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. It is. I want to know if it feels different to fuck you when you’re my husband.”

  The limo halts in front of our building and Reid says, “Let’s go find out.”

  He opens his door and helps me out and we make the walk to our building, a crisp, urgent tension between us. I want him. He wants me. This is our wedding night. Our wedding night. We step into the elevator and the minute the doors shut us inside alone, I’m pressed into the corner and his fingers are tunneling into my hair. “Aren’t there cameras?” I ask, sounding as breathless as I feel. He is perfection in a tuxedo and he smells like a sweet spice and him. He smells that certain way that is only Reid, and it’s masculine and addictive. And he’s my husband.

  “Ask me if I care about cameras,” he says, his mouth closing down on mine, his tongue licking against my tongue. His hands slide over my hip to settle on my lower back and mold me to him. He’s a drug, and I am addicted. I press into him, stroke his tongue with mine, and I’m lost to the point that I barely know when the elevator stops. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s go make love.”

  “Make love?”

  “Yes. Even when we fuck we make love. And I like it.”

  “Me too,” I whisper, letting him take my hand and guide me out of the elevator, our steps anxious as we approach our door.

  Reid pulls me in front of him, placing me between him and the door, and even as he unlocks it, his body hugs mine, his hands sliding over my backside. I rotate to face him and he’s kissing me in an instant, walking me into the apartment. Nikki comes running at us as Reid shuts the door. “Stay, Nikki,” he says, scooping me up and carrying me toward the bedroom.

  Nikki barks at us excitedly and I’m laughing as Reid enters the bedroom, flips on the light with his elbow and then kicks the door shut. “The children will have to wait,” he murmurs, settling me on the bed and coming down on top of me, his mouth slanting over mine, tongue licking against my tongue in a deep, consuming kiss that steals my breath and somehow allows me to breathe.

  He lifts off of me and shrugs out of his jacket. “I need you naked, baby.”

  He pulls me to my feet and turns me, my back to his front and his hands caress a path up and down my body, one cupping my breast and squeezing. I moan, arching into him and the doorbell rings. Reid groans. “No. Not now. It has to be Cat and Reese.”

  I rotate in his arms. “Oh God. Well, this will be really good foreplay.”

  He kisses me and groans again. “Fuck.” He releases me and runs a hand through his hair. “Pack, baby. We’ll do this on the plane. No one can get to us there.”

  “The plane?”

  He grabs me and kisses me. “Yes. The plane.”

  He turns and exits the bedroom. I follow him and in a whirlwind of activity, Nikki is barking, Kesha is meowing, and Cat, Reese, Gabe, my father, and his future wife, Stella, are in our apartment. It’s utter chaos, but it’s wonderful. It’s family and across the crush of activity, Reid’s eyes meet mine and everything fades but us. We’re married. We’re in love. We’re a family. And we’re going to be on a plane to Italy in a few hours, probably naked for part of the flight.

  Life, love, happiness. I read those words in Cat’s column once. Of course, she was talking about coffee, but for me, it’s all about Reid.

  The End

  ***

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  I'm the bastard child, son to the mistress, my father's backup heir to the Kingston empire. He sent me to Harvard. I left and became a Navy SEAL, but I'm back now, and I finished school on my own dime. I'm now a few months from being a billionaire myself. I don't need my father's company or his love. My "brother" can have it. I will never go back there. I will never be the mistake my father made, the way he was the mistake my mother made.

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  CHAPTER ONE OF THE BASTARD

  Eric

  When the Kingston family decides to throw a party, it means no less than two hundred people a
t their twenty-thousand-foot Aspen estate, valets at the door, an abundance of Kingston Motors luxury cars in the drive, and money. Lots of money, because Jeff Kingston has nothing to do with anyone who doesn’t have money, aside from me, his bastard son, otherwise known as the backup heir just in case my half-brother kicks the bucket.

  I exit the guest house, where I’m staying until my meeting with my father tomorrow, which I shouldn’t have accepted. I don’t know why the fuck I’m even here, aside from the fact that these people are supposed to be my people, and leaving the SEALs was like leaving family. It’s hard to let go of that need for a family unit. Family. Right. What the hell was I thinking? Like I could ever really be a Kingston.

  I walk down a stone path shrouded in flowers and low hanging trees, twisting left and then right until I enter the courtyard filled with bodies in fancy dresses and tuxedos like the one I’m in now. A waiter walks by and I snag a glass of champagne when I’d rather have whiskey, but I’ll settle for anything to get me through tonight’s launch of a new model of car. I barely give a shit about the old model, which is exactly why my father shouldn’t want me to work for him. I walk to one of the few dozen standing tables covered in white tablecloths, down my drink and accept another when my gaze catches on a woman, on her and just her.

  She’s standing on the other side of the pool, a princess in a strappy black dress, with flawless skin and long brown hair, surrounded by her subjects. At least, that’s how she reads to me, no doubt like every other socialite I’ve ever met in this godforsaken world, and yet I’m watching her when I never watch them. There’s something about this woman, a white swan among the black swans on a pond made of money and death, my mother’s death most specifically, since that’s how I got here.

  My princess must feel my attention because she tunes out the conversation she’s having with several other people, her chin lifting, her gaze sweeping wide and then catching mine. I don’t even think about looking away. I don’t care that she knows that I’m watching her. I don’t care if she knows that I’m thinking about fucking her. I’m the bastard in these parts. From the time I was thrust into this place right before my senior year of high school, I do what I do and everyone whispers about it. I’m not going to change that now. Let them whisper about what I want, and this woman, whoever the fuck she is, is worth the whispers.