His eyes get darker, deeper, but he says nothing for a minute and I can feel nerves skittering over me, wondering if I’ve said too much, gone too far. Lifting my hand, I trace the outline of his profile with my finger, moving down to his lips where he closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, they’re clear and brilliant, full of love that I can see all the way through.
“I love you, Rachel, both of you. And someday soon I’m going to ask you both to be mine.” My smile starts small and spreads, so when he shifts me on my back and raises himself above me, I can’t help but grin. “What do you think about that?”
“I think someday soon we’re going to say yes.”
His sigh is audible and he brings his lips down to mine, kissing me deeply, thoroughly, until I’m arching into him and wrapping my arms around his neck. Slowing down, he places small kisses at my temple, cheeks, nose before resting his brow on mine. “I was counting on it.”
Epilogue
The late summer sunshine is threatening to fall behind several suspicious looking clouds, and the heat that is so abnormal to our area of the nation is bordering on stifling. Of course Mother Nature would throw a temper tantrum on my wedding day. Jealous bitch.
I shrug off my annoyance and turn back to my girls as they get out of the car behind me. They’re wearing black sundresses with black chucks, the exact opposite of me, and when given those instructions, the horror that crossed both of their faces was what one would term priceless.
“But it’s a wedding,” Stacy stammered while Katie sat fuming.
“I know, that’s why you’re wearing them.”
“What she means,” Katie snapped from her place on the couch, “is that it’s a wedding, not a fucking costume party, therefore, something a bit fancier might be appropriate.”
I nodded agreeably. “Yeah, it is a wedding, my wedding, so you’re wearing what I want. Deal with it.”
Both of them swallowed back any responses but the look in Katie’s eyes was mutinous, a promise that she’ll have me looking like a seven foot hooker in sequins and stilettos when her time comes. Brilliant.
But now everyone’s smiling as they stand there in their mismatched black dresses, Katie’s a bubble with fancy black flowers on it and Stacy’s a more reserved A line. Between them, my gorgeous girl stands in her white eyelet and her white chucks, exactly like me. There’s a band of white flowers in her golden hair. She’s almost four and I can’t believe how beautiful she is, or that she’s really mine. Ours, I correct myself and look toward the library steps. Today, she legally becomes ours, and it’s as much a day about that as it is about the wedding.
I breathe in once and exhale out. A glance at the window of the car throws my reflection at me and I take one last minute to study the details, for once anxious to make sure that everything is as perfect as it can be. Today, of all days, deserves perfection, even if Mother Nature is going to try and step in and steal my spotlight. Try it, sister, I’m still marrying him.
I left my hair down and let Katie tame the waves so they now fall soft and shiny past my shoulders. My bangs are swept to the side and there’s a large white bloom behind my left ear. Katie worked her magic with my face, too, using a light hand to highlight my eyes and gloss my lips. I’m grateful I still look like me, just a little more glamorous.
I sweep a hand down my own white dress, a little fancier than the girls’, but still casual compared to most weddings. It’s white cotton and simple except for the beautiful sheer white overlay that makes it appear ethereal, almost dainty. The half inch thick straps meet the straight neckline in the front and go over my shoulder and all the way down my bare back to my waist, where they meet the sheer ribbon that’s tied there. The dress nips in at my waist and flows out to just below my knees, and though I’m sure there would have been a million better choices, I paired it with Chucks as well, because it made it feel like me. I desperately want to be me on this day when I marry Tripp, my best friend and the only boy I’ve ever loved.
When I hear the violins start up, I look up at my other best friend and my sister, the two people who’ve always loved me, and then down at my little girl, whose eyes, so much my own, smile back at me.
“Ready?” I ask everyone.
They nod and one by one they hug me and grab their flowers, simple bouquets of daisies that also earned a glare when first chosen. “They’re ugly and smell bad.”
“They’re happy and simple,” I countered Katie’s complaint and chose them. Now, I take my own and smile at the girls as they start down the small walkway toward the university’s library stairs, but one whiff tells me Katie wasn’t wrong; they do smell a little like pee.
As we reach the bottom of the stairs, I look at the small group of people gathered there and smile at them. Dad and Lucy with their little boy, Nix, who is only three days younger than Nick and Stacy’s Layla. Ms. Flynn stands next to some man I don’t know but can guess is her significant other the way he’s holding her. Still, she smiles and holds out a quick hand and I take it and squeeze it, letting her know, always, how grateful I am for her. Then there’s Tripp’s parents and grandparents, G and Walter, and then my mom, alone and beautiful as she stares at me. I stop and give her a kiss, lifting Gracie up to do the same.
At the base of the stairs now, I don’t look up quite yet. Instead, I set Gracie on her feet and stare into her eyes for a minute, loving the way she stares back with equal curiosity.
“Are you ready for this, gorgeous girl?” She nods and I know she understands. Holding out my fist, I wait for her to give it a small bop and then kiss her cheek. “Let’s do it then.”
Standing, I take her hand in mine and turn toward the stairs, my eyes lifting until they meet his, and everything in me feels pulled. Before I know it, my feet are moving and Gracie is right next to me, climbing, climbing, until we’re on the stair next to him.
Griff and Tanner are on the stair behind him, and I smile as he leans down to pick up Gracie and turn toward me.
“Don’t most people only get one girl on their wedding day?” Griff stage whispers to Tanner, who shrugs good naturedly.
“Yeah, but Jackson’s always been greedy. And lucky, the bastard.”
Tripp turns to me, laughing as he ignores them, and I smile back, reaching down to link my fingers with his.
The Justice of the Peace begins, reciting straight forward words that I can follow. When he has me repeat after him, Tripp stops me when I gets to “as long as we both shall live.”
“I want forever,” he says, his voice husky and low. My stomach jumps, but I just quirk my brow. “I don’t want qualifications, I want forever,” he repeats and though the JP grumbles, I grin and break the rules by kissing him.
Leaning back, I nod. “I was counting on it.” And then the thunder booms and we say I do to forever while the rain falls and soaks us all.
~
Tripp
I’m lying next to Rachel, to my wife, listening to her breathe slow and steady as she finally succumbs to sleep for the first time since we got married almost twelve hours ago. The windows are open to the salty sea air, and the moon is glowing through enough that I can see her.
It’s strange that at just twenty-one, I’ve been given everything I’ve ever wanted. Watching Rachel come toward me today, walking up those steps with Gracie’s hand in hers, her beautiful eyes on mine, everything she was feeling reflected in them, I was afraid to blink and wake up. Her raven hair was loose and flowing over her shoulders to her breasts, her eyes and Gracie’s glowing at me with twin expressions of love and laughter, that misty, sea-foam color mesmerizing me so I could hardly breathe. Her skin, browned by the sun, glowed against her white dress and fit her perfectly, showcasing her lean frame that holds so much strength.
She’s always been strong, my Rachel, too strong. The kind of strong that is afraid of weakness, of help, of needing someone, and the first time she ever let me into her bed I was afraid I needed her too much and pulled away. I was sixteen and
fucking terrified, and now at twenty-one I’m no less afraid, just more sure. She’s mine—she always has been and always will be because there is nothing and no one in my life who I need more than I need this beautiful woman, and living with her the past few years, being with her, I know she needs me, too. She and Gracie.
Shifting slowly so I don’t wake her, I press a light kiss to her bare shoulder and take one last minute to remember her as she was only an hour ago, naked and beautiful as she rose above me, captivated me, loved me not just as my lover, but as my wife. I see the simple white-gold band that glows on her finger and can’t help the surge of emotion that pulses through me. If she was awake, she’d surely be mocking me and asking if I needed to write in my diary. I’d smile, because we both know I’m more prone to sharing my feelings than she is; I was too afraid to do it once and I paid for it. Now, I just don’t give a shit if it embarrasses her because every day I have her I love her more, and I have a need to tell her.
Since I know I’ll wake her up soon enough to love her again, I turn and slip from the bed, grabbing a pair of shorts and pulling them on as I walk to the small writing desk that faces that ocean beyond the beach. There’s a pen and paper there, courtesy of the home-owners who rented us their place for the week, and I grab it and sit, needing to purge myself of the words that are building inside of me (another thing I’m sure my wife would tease me about should she become aware).
My darling Gracie,
I’m stealing this moment like a thief as your mama sleeps in the bed behind me. Since she sleeps like a rock (probably because her head is so damn hard) I have a few minutes and I needed to give them to you to say a few things.
Today, you and your mama became mine. Really mine, though I’ve thought of you as mine for a lot longer. I was just remembering the moment you looked at me and how much it made my heart hurt to realize that I really was lucky enough to get to keep you both (though, it wouldn’t hurt to remind your mother of how lucky she is to have me every now and again, if you feel like helping your daddy out).
Daddy.
It awes me and terrifies me to get to finally say that you’re my daughter. I’ve loved you since the day I saw the picture of you still in your mama’s stomach, a little panda-bear we called you, your nose and profile so much like your mother that it stole my breath, and my heart. I’ve loved your mama over half my life, my darling Gracie, and just like my love for you terrified me, my love for her made me want to run. I did once and it was the biggest mistake I ever made. I’m back now, and I won’t run ever again, because now that I have you, I feel like I have everything. I know you’re going to have questions as you grow up, Gracie, things that you need answers to and with your mama, I’ll always do my best to answer them, but while I sit here on the night you became mine, I want to remind you of one thing: the day you came to be, the day you interrupted our lives and changed the course we were on, will always be the best day. Don’t ever doubt it.
You brought us back together, Gracie, your mama and I, and made us see that life, while oftentimes an asshole, can be really fucking awesome, too (sorry about the language, but being as your mother’s no better, I’ll bet you’ve heard it a time or two by the time you read this letter).
I didn’t just marry your mom today, Gracie, I married you, and with that comes the promise that I’ll never, ever leave you or make you wonder if I care. I love you, more than I ever thought possible, and as you grow up I’m going to be here every day to remind you. You’re my daughter and I’m your daddy, and I can’t wait to share every moment with you. Thank you for letting me be yours. I love you, darling girl. I always will (even when you’re twelve and slam your door because you’re mad—I live with your mother, one slammed door is nothing, trust me).
Daddy
Setting the pen down, I sit back and stare out at the Pacific coast, the ocean so dark even with the moon’s light on it. Feeling like the luckiest fucking man in the world, I stand and fold the note, putting it in the pocket of my shorts before slipping them off and getting back into bed with my wife. Yeah, I’ve used that title a few times today, and I’m going to fucking keep using it, because I can.
“Finished writing in your diary?” she mumbles as I wrap her close and smile, my lips still against her neck.
“Maybe. How long you been awake?”
“Long enough to miss you,” she says and turns. There it is, the look that changed my life, the one that tells me she’s mine.
“Oh yeah?” Rolling, I pin her with my body and stare down at her. “Well, Mrs. Jones, I’m here to serve. What did you have in mind?”
She grins and tugs me down so her lips are a breath from my ear. “Everything.” And then she’s rolling, reversing our positions and claiming my mouth and I let her, thinking that sounds about right.
Acknowledgements
I’ve never done an acknowledgements page because I’ve always felt that the dedication in the front of the book said it all. My first book is dedicated to my parents, because their love has inspired me every day. My second to my sisters, because they were the constant in my life that picked me up time and again, even when I didn’t know how to pick myself up. And now for my third, dedicated to my beautiful baby girl and her daddy, the two people in my life who have showed me that love can overwhelm and intensify in the span of minutes, and be twice as wonderful one day as it was the day before. Thank you, Jan and Livvy, for being the most important people in my life, and for showing me every day what it means to live.
Thank you to Eunice and Michele and Courtney and Sara and Carrie and all others who read and reviewed Finding You and Beyond the Horizon—your comments and emails and support came at a time when I needed them most. Thank you to Erica at Erica Streelman photography for your friendship, photos, and beautiful vision that helped make this book come alive. And finally, thank you to those students of mine in the past eight years who have inspired me. Your strength, compassion, dedication, and absolute belief in life despite all of its ugliness has reminded me exactly why high school is such a pivotal time in all our lives. I’m so grateful to those of you who ever shared a part of yours with me. Remember, choose yourself, first and always, and choose love. #IChooseCake. xoxo
About the Author
I grew up in West Eugene and went to school in Corvallis, Oregon. After eight years in the desert, a place which granted me my husband and my beautiful daughter, I’ve finally moved back to the Pacific Northwest. I read and write love stories because despite the ugliness that the world holds, it also holds so much love, and so much grace, and everyone needs a happy ending. I love coffee, books, big dogs, and rainy days. Visit me on the web at any of the following places so we can chat.
http://kristenkehoe.wix.com/kristen-kehoe
@KKehoeYAauthor on Twitter
www.facebook.com/authorkristenkehoe on Facebook
Keep reading for a preview of my new novel
The Light of Day
A Beyond the Horizon Novel
Coming Soon
Chapter One
Jake
When you’re twenty-two and watch every dream you’ve ever had drain down the toilet in just under two minutes, there’s not much to do except bend over and take it. People try and cheer you up, try to see the glass half full and all of that bullshit that some optimistic prick has made millions writing about, but you know it isn’t, and it won’t be because one look at the doctor’s face when he took out the x-rays confirmed what he hadn’t yet: you’re done. Find a different dream.
I was twenty-two and six days old when this occurred. Twenty-two and six days old and eight weeks away from entering the Major League Draft, the one that I had been working toward my entire life. I’d chosen to finish my career at ASU, to go my senior year because all I wanted was a title. What I got was a busted elbow and a crushed career. Yeah, I shattered that fucking glass.
Now, at twenty-two and forty days old, I’ve got a hangover on the horizon and my eye on a brunette who walked in an hour ago.
She’s tall, long and curved, not bony like most girls I’ve met in the past few years, but healthy looking. No nose candy or other recreational drugs for this one. Nope, her skin’s too clear, her curves too toned. Healthy is what I’d describe her as. And fucking stacked. I can’t see her eyes clearly from here, but I’m sure they’re clear, too. I haven’t seen her drink anything but water since she came through the door, and I haven’t looked away from her in the hour she’s been here.
That’s also something new. In the past month, there has been little to keep my attention for more than a few brief moments. Which is why I took medical reprieve from classes with the intent of going somewhere else in the fall and starting over. Just the phrase makes me swig from my bottle. Starting over. Finding something else. Looking beyond what I was to what I can be, which isn’t what I wanted to be. Fuck. Not even Jack can cure that thought, no matter how deeply I gulp him down. But another look at the brunette has my eyes finally meeting hers. I recognize the golden haired angel she’s standing next to, but I can’t place her at the moment. I haven’t slept with her, that’s for sure; too innocent. The brunette looks clean, but there’s something darker about her, something mysterious, like a secret that she’s wearing on the outside, showing the world without saying a word. The angel next to her looks just that: angelic, sweet, pure. I’m not pure, and I’m not looking for it. I’m looking for hard, rough, mind numbing…something. Anything to finish what the alcohol can’t and make me forget for a while.
I keep my eyes on the brunette as I set my drink down. It lost its appeal an hour ago when I saw her, and as a result the drunk I was headed toward has now softened to a buzz. I can’t explain the pull that I feel, but I can say I don’t want to let it go. It’s been too long since I’ve felt this need, this force to do something besides wallow and I’ll be goddamned if I skip over it.
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