by Jessie Lane
That was, if she got to live.
These days I felt like the word if was my walking nightmare.
All I could do was pray that she would pull through … And get my father to leave her the fuck alone.
Richard ran his free hand over his face, and then dropped it to the table in front of him. He watched me for a few minutes before he asked, “You truly hate me, don’t you?”
Was this guy kidding?
Leaning forward, not that he would be able to hear me through the glass, but just so maybe he could read my lips while he listened to the words coming through the phone, I told him exactly what I thought of him.
“Hate isn’t a strong enough word. In fact, I’m not sure someone has invented a word that compares to how much I wish you would shrivel up and blow away like a bad memory.”
He actually flinched at my last sentence, then asked, “Is this how your mother feels about me, too?”
Now the conversation was heading into murky waters.
I didn’t believe in lying, and I wasn’t about to start now. My mother’s feelings for him were complicated, to say the least.
Then I realized something—the only way I might be able to get him to understand the love/hate relationship she had with him.
“Remember when I was little, how Mom liked to tell me fairy tales at bedtime?” When Richard nodded, I continued, “She once told me she thought you were her Prince Charming, but then she found you to be a monster, instead. That’s how she feels about you. She’s terrified of you, which is something you should have picked up on when she ran away, taking me with her, hiding under a false identity to stay away from you.”
“If you ever loved my mother at all, like you claim you do, then you will leave her alone for the rest of her days. Do you understand me?”
He was quiet for a long time while he just sat there and stared at me. It was like he was taking my measure somehow.
I wasn’t going to flinch under his observation. This time, I wasn’t going to back down.
It must have worked because, when the guard came up to tap him on the shoulder, signifying his time was up, Wellington blinked once, then said, “I realize I wasn’t the ideal father … something I’ll never be able to make up to you. And I love your mother too much to cause her any more pain, so the two of you will never hear from me again. That will be my true punishment, not being locked behind these walls. No, the forfeiture of the person I love most in the world is the greatest punishment of all.” Then he hung up his phone, got up from his cubicle, and walked away, not once looking back.
I was beyond happy to see him go.
Chapter
14
Ginny
One year later…
“It’s time. You ready for this?”
Olivia’s question was softly spoken, as if she was walking on eggshells around me; afraid to upset me in any way. I wish I had the words to explain that there wasn’t a thing in the world she could do to upset me right now. In fact, one might say that today had been a long time coming, and now that it was here, the best way to deal with it was to embrace it.
My throat felt too tight from emotions, and I knew if I tried to say anything, no words would come out. They couldn’t. Therefore, I simply gave her a small nod to let her know I was ready to proceed.
She gave me a sweet smile in return and whispered, “I’ll give you two minutes. Then we need to leave if we’re going to be on time.”
I nodded again as I fiddled with the heart-shaped locket around my neck, doing my best to hide my nerves. My hands were trembling so badly that Olivia had taken over doing my makeup and hair.
Thank God I had such a good friend in my life. Even after I had shoved her out of my life for years, when I needed her the most, she had come to the rescue. What would I do without her, on today of all days?
I silently watched as she walked out of her old bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her. Once she was gone, I looked back at my reflection in the mirror, finding it hard to recognize myself.
There had been plenty of times in my life when I had been perfectly polished, but this was different. The woman looking back at me wasn’t a perfect specimen. She wasn’t the woman who Richard Wellington had expected to represent his family by looking and acting prim and proper every second of every day.
No, that woman was long gone. In her place was a person I almost didn’t recognize. Yet, I liked her.
Yes, the woman staring back at me was a mixture of the young Ginny and the mature Virginia; a woman who had finally come into her own. There had been a lot of heartbreak and agony to get to this metamorphosis. And now that I had arrived at this point in my life, it was best not to lament on what it had cost me to get here. Instead, I would do my very best to celebrate my life as it was now.
Hence why I sat here in a dress I had never dreamed of wearing, with my hair styled in a curled half up-do, and just enough makeup to compliment my natural features. It was probably a good idea on Olivia’s part to have kept my makeup to a minimum, since I had no idea how I was going to get through this day without crying.
Funny enough, that thought brought back the memory of Olivia doing my makeup in this very room so many years ago on Christmas Day after I had come over to see Lucas while he was home on leave from the Army. Life certainly had come full circle.
A gentle knock on the door pulled me out of my reverie.
“Time to go, Ginny.” Olivia’s tender reminder was all the encouragement I needed to get up out of my chair, open the door, and leave the room without taking another look in the mirror. The time for what ifs and second-guesses was over. It was time to face my future.
Olivia led me out of her mother’s house and to our mode of transportation.
When our driver, giving both of us a huge smile, opened the door for us, my breath caught in my throat and tears pricked my eyes at the sight. It seemed too surreal to be true.
An open, four-wheeled carriage, elegant, pearl white, and polished, pulled by two pristine white horses that had flowers braided into their manes sat before me. It could have come straight out of one of my mother’s fairy tales.
Olivia grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the buggy. The coachman then helped both of us into the carriage, making sure my dress was safely tucked around my ankles before climbing into his own seat.
Giving the reins a gentle tug, the horses started walking forward, pulling us at a slow trot.
My best friend squeezed my hand to get my attention. Looking over, I saw Olivia’s smile was so radiant it could have outshone the sun. Her dark brunette hair was braided and pinned back in a loose up-do that complimented her high cheekbones, with a few small, curled tendrils framing her face. She had applied her own makeup much heavier than my own, giving herself a sensual pout and classic eyes that any man could get lost in.
Of course, none of this surprised me because it was classic Olivia. Bold and vibrant, just like the rich apple-red dress she wore. It was held up by a shoulder strap that was made from a lace overlay. The bust had a sweetheart neckline, and her flowing skirt had a split up one side for easy movements. The bodice complimented her small waist with a ribbon belt.
To me, she looked like a gorgeous Greek goddess, ready to wreak havoc among the poor mortal men.
“Are you listening to me, Ginny, or are you still daydreaming?”
I blinked in surprise at hearing her question. So lost in my own thoughts, I’d had no idea she had been speaking at all.
“I’m sorry. You said something?”
Olivia laughed. “Yes! Get your head out of the clouds, girl. You’re about to get married! I would think that’s enough of a dream come true that you could stay out of your own personal la-la land for a while.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach at her words.
I was getting married. Not to a man who had been arranged for me, but to the man I had loved since I had been too young to truly know what love was.
The carriage came to a stop
on the side of the road next to the open field I had spent many days sitting in, drawing my dreams. In the distance, I saw the very man who had sat with me under that tree so long ago, handing me markers as I had infused bright colors into my art. This time, he was infusing color into my life.
Green leaves sprouted from our tree, healthy brown bark covering its thick strong trunk. White flower petals had been spread onto a walkway from the road all the way to where Lucas stood waiting for me. A little over a dozen white chairs sat to either side of the makeshift aisle. Those seats were filled with Lucas’s parents, his blood brothers, and his somewhat adopted brothers—the Ex Ops team.
The small party might not seem like a lot of people to most, but it was the perfect number of people to me. Just the ones we loved to witness a day that I had hoped and prayed for.
As I took my first step down the aisle, I let the beauty of the day soak into my memory, wanting to draw it later. The sun was bright and beautiful, shining down a golden glow upon us all. Blue had faded away to a gorgeous peach in the sky as the sun started its descent, highlighting the path in front of me, as if Mother Nature herself was trying to show me the way to my destiny.
Ribbons danced from the tree branches as I watched Olivia walk down the path in front of me as my bridesmaid. Rich red, lavender, and tyrian purple rippled in the backdrop of the dream come true right in front of me. Between the sunset and the ribbons dancing as wildly in the winds as flames would, it looked like the whole world was on fire. I couldn’t help praying that I would have this exquisite sort of fire coloring my days for the rest of my life. Somehow, I felt that was exactly what the smile on Lucas’s face was promising me.
Stopping just short of the halfway point to Lucas, I turned to the person waiting there for me—my mother. Her smile was so radiant, cheeks flushed with happiness, tears dancing in her eyes. My heart was so full from having her there in this moment that I thought it might explode.
She almost hadn’t survived from being shot by her husband on that fateful day, over a year ago. The term “touch and go” had taken a whole new meaning for me in the months after she had come out of surgery, as one complication after another had been set upon her. Each day she had fought, struggling to breathe, lungs rattling from injury and infection, back to consciousness.
For every day she fought to get well, I had prayed. I had promised God and anyone else who might have listened anything and everything I had to bring her back to me. And day by day, Lucas had stayed by my side, giving me his strength, a shoulder to cry on, along with his never-ending love. He had held strong through the days that I was weakest, lashing out at him in my pain. He had given me words I had needed when I felt as if I had spoken every word there was in prayer. He had taken care of me when I wouldn’t or couldn’t take care of myself. Basically, the man had loved me through hell and back. What more could a woman ask for?
Mom reached out, tenderly grabbing me by my face to kiss me on the cheek. When she was done, we both pulled back and beamed at each other.
“My sweet girl is the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen,” she whispered.
My voice wavered with my response. “Thank you, Mama.”
She then took my hand and walked me down the rest of the aisle as the feeling of overwhelming gratefulness nearly brought me to my knees. Somehow, though, I managed to keep my shaking knees from buckling, allowing my mother to guide me over the soft grass and flower petals to my dashing knight in his black suit.
The grin on his face was triumphant, as if he was staring at a treasure instead of just me. That was okay. Between the two of us, I knew the truth. I was the one who had been blessed beyond measure with the most precious treasure one could ever receive—true love.
Thank goodness fate had placed me across the street from the boy who would forever hold my heart.
Lucas
Heaven on earth. That was what I was staring at right now.
My angel, dressed in a stunning, delicate purple dress that I knew was her favorite color, with a deep V-neck that framed her cleavage. Lace covered her shoulders and over the bodice, emphasizing her small, feminine frame. The bottom half flowed down her shape, giving hints of the curve of her hips while concealing her long legs.
I had been all over the world these last fifteen years, seen breathtaking sights and the world’s wonders, but nothing could compare to the sight of her. She was, in that moment, quite literally, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Part of me almost wanted to freeze this moment, to live in it forever, just to see her as she was now for the rest of my days. The rest of me, however, wanted to run down the aisle, grab her hand, and speed walk her pretty, little ass down to where the preacher was waiting for us. She was taking entirely too long to get to me when I wanted her now, in all ways.
The only thing that kept me standing firmly in place was the fierce look of joy on both Gin’s and her mother’s faces.
As I watched the two of them walking toward me, I thought how there wasn’t a doubt in my mind where my angel had gotten her beauty from, inside and out. I was marrying this gorgeous woman, who had once been the awkward but angelic girl from across the street.
With every step she took, a memory flooded through my mind.
Overhearing a very young Ginny tell my sister that she was going to marry me one day.
Watching Ginny sit beneath her tree—this tree—and draw away as if the world around her didn’t exist.
Now she was two steps closer to me with maybe another eight to go.
The sun glinted off the necklace I had given her that Christmas after she had turned sixteen. Seeing the gold wrapped around her neck made me want to drag her out of here and see her in nothing but that gold necklace while she rode me to an orgasm.
Shit. I could not get hard at my own damn wedding.
She took another two steps, and my heartbeat tripled in time. She was almost to me.
One last memory flitted through my mind. The day of my twenty-first birthday party.
The downside of that memory was remembering how badly I had hurt my girl because of how fucked in the head I had been after being overseas at war.
The part that truly mattered about that memory was freshly framed and gift-wrapped back at our place. I planned to give to her once we got home as a wedding present.
It was the drawing of us in black and white, with the small message that she would be waiting for me, that she had given me for my birthday,. The unspoken part of that message had been: she would be waiting for me when I stopped denying what was between us.
Tonight, I was going to give her the picture back to show her that, in a way, I had been waiting, too. Perhaps it had been for myself to be ready for what we had. Nonetheless, I had always known that she was special to me.
As she took the last two steps toward me on the journey to becoming my wife, I couldn’t help thinking how much I was looking forward to showing her how special she was to me for every day of the rest of our lives.
Epilogue
Five years later…
Lucas
“It’s time.” Gin’s soft voice came from behind me, where I sat on our couch, watching a football game with our two-year-old son, Jaxon.
Our boy was so engrossed in the game he hadn’t heard what his mother had said, which was good. I didn’t want him to get too excited if this was just another one of many false alarms we’d had in the past three weeks.
Turning my head to look over my shoulder at my wife, I took in her big, round belly, and then the strained look on her face. “You sure, angel? Did your water break?”
Her left eye twitched in irritation. “No, my water did not break,” she snapped. “But I’ve been having steady contractions for a couple of hours now, and I’m telling you that it’s time to go to the hospital!”
At the word “hospital,” our boy perked up. Jumping off the couch, he started running in circles around our coffee table, waving his hands in the air and shouting at the top of his lu
ngs, “Yay! Baby Wendy coming! Baby Wendy coming!”
Great. Now the boy was riled up like he had eaten a five-gallon bucket of candy.
Glancing from our toddler back to my wife, I reminded her what the doctor had said during our last visit. “They told me not to bring you back unless your water broke, babe. Remember?”
When Ginny let out a helpless sob, my heart skipped a beat. She was gripping her belly and panting through what must have been a contraction.
I looked at my watch and started timing it until I heard her breathe out in relief. Sixty seconds.
Looking back up at Gin, I saw her wiping sweat off her forehead while also pushing her hair from her eyes.
By now, Jaxon was running circles around his mother, yelling at the top of his lungs about being a big brother. My wife was paying him no mind, though, as she gave me the evil eye.
“Of course I remember what those morons said! Thing is, I don’t care what they told you. If you don’t take me to the hospital right now, Lucas Young, I’m going to have this baby in our living room, and you’re going to deliver her.”
I gave Gin a bit of a glare, not just because she was being snippety with me, but also because now Jaxon was running around her, yelling, “Morons,” like a record stuck on repeat.
I pointed at the boy as I said to her, “That’s your fault, woman.”
Suddenly, she screamed while tightly gripping her swollen belly. The sound of it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My gut told me this was not good, and that perhaps Gin was right; those hospital people were morons.
Walking over, I picked up Jaxon and secured him on my hip, holding him with one arm. With my free hand, I guided my wife toward the front door, only stopping long enough to grab the truck keys and her bag that had been ready for the hospital.
Opening the door, I let her walk out first. Then I locked the house up, piled everyone into my truck, and off we went to the hospital, with Jaxon repeatedly singing, “Moron,” from the back seat.