Save the Date (Wild Wedding Series Book 3)

by Ann Marie Walker

  It took a few moments for Rebecca’s brain and mouth to connect. “What are you doing here?”

  “Wanted to give you these,” Brody replied. He held up the fistful of flowers. “I might be in a bit of trouble with the Millennium Park gardeners, but I know you think roses are a cliché, so…”

  “You picked these from the park?”

  He nodded.

  “What about the show? Aren’t you supposed to be at some after party right now?”

  Brody chucked. “I doubt it’s much of a celebration seeing as how I walked out during the broadcast.”

  “You what?” Rebecca had obviously heard him, but she was struggling to comprehend what he’d said.

  “I walked off the set.”

  “But what about Marguerite and the team and the network and—”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” he said, interrupting her rambling stream of thoughts. “They can sue me if they want, but I’m not that guy anymore and I couldn’t stand in front of the cameras and pretend I was.”

  Behind them, Olivia cleared her throat. Rebecca and Brody turned to find her scrolling through her phone. “I don’t think you need to worry about lawsuits, Brody. Both you and American Sweetheart are trending on pretty much every platform.” She laughed. “They’re calling you America’s very own Prince Charming and wondering who will fit the slipper.”

  Cassie had her phone out now as well. “This tweet has…” Her eyes grew wide. “Over 30,000 likes.” She turned the screen to face Rebecca and played the attached clip.

  Brody was standing next to the show’s host, same as he had been just before she’d turned off the television.

  “Brody Dixon,” the host said, “are you ready to find your American Sweetheart?”

  The camera zoomed in on Brody, and as it did, his smile faltered. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “But I can’t do this.”

  There was an audible gasp from the contestants, and if Rebecca had to guess, more than a few curse words from the producers. Fortunately for the network, at least they weren’t mic’d.

  The shot went wide, revealing the panicked host. His eyes darted around the stage until someone off-camera caught his eye. He gave a tight nod and straightened. “We’ll be right back after a short—”

  “No,” Brody interrupted. “No need to go to commercial.” He dropped the flowers he’d been holding and turned toward the assembled group of women. “I’m sorry, ladies. I know this isn’t what you signed up for.” The sincerity in his voice was impossible to miss. “And I’m sure each of you will make some lucky guy very happy.” The camera lens was locked on Brody once again. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you or the viewers to spend the next few weeks pretending to look for my American Sweetheart.” He took a deep breath as Rebecca held hers. “Truth is, I’ve already found her.”

  The screen went dark. Rebecca blinked up at Brody, partly to adjust her focus and partly to fight the tears that pricked her eyes.

  “It’s you, Becs.” He gazed down at her the same as he had so many times before, and yet in a way, it felt like he was seeing her for the very first time. “Ever since that day in the park.”

  The choke hold that had gripped her heart the last few weeks began to ease, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “You mean the day you knocked me on my ass?”

  “Only fair, since you knocked me out.” Even he couldn’t keep a straight face.

  “That’s a pretty cheesy line, Dixon, even for you.” She smiled through the tears she could no longer fight. “Didn’t I teach you anything?”

  “More than you know.” Brody cupped her face with his hand and brushed away her tears with his thumb. The contact was simple and yet so intimate, and all at once her insides began to melt. “You’ve changed me, Rebecca. And there’s no going back.”

  “I didn’t change you, Brody. I just helped you get out of your own way.” She gazed up at him. “This is the man I always knew you were.”

  Below them, the little penguin squeaked and flapped its wings.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Rebecca said on a quiet laugh. “Sort of forgot you were there.”

  The penguin shook its head back and forth.

  “That was beautiful,” Cassie said. Rebecca turned to find her friend’s eyes were full of tears, which wasn’t really that surprising since Cassie was known to be a bit emotional when it came to movies, or even holiday commercials. It was more the fact that Olivia was also crying that was a bit of a shock.

  Rebecca’s grin would have widened if it weren’t for the fact that it was already at maximum capacity. “You too?”

  Olivia swiped away the tears that streamed down her face, “It’s the damn pregnancy hormones. I swear.”

  “We should leave you two alone,” Cassie said. She looked to Olivia. “And maybe drop this little guy back at the aquarium?”

  Olivia laughed. “Cole will lose his mind if this thing shits in the Bugatti.”

  “Cole’s leather seats are safe,” Brody said. “Rocky’s trainer is just downstairs.”

  Cassie carefully scooped the bird into her arms.

  “Extra points for creativity,” Olivia said. “I’ll give you that.”

  Brody stepped into the room but waited to speak until her two friends had closed the door behind them. When he did, his tone was serious. “Why did you run?”

  “I wasn’t running, I—”

  He cocked his head to one side and flashed the lopsided grin she’d grown to crave. “If you’re about to tell me you didn’t run, you walked away from me…”

  She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. Brody didn’t know how close to the truth his joke was considering her conversation with Cole had sent her on a sprint that took her all the way to Belmont Harbor. “I was going to say that I had just gone out to get breakfast. I wanted to cook for you, but you live in a stupid hotel so takeout was the best I could do and then…” Her voice trailed off, and she lowered her gaze. She couldn’t look at his beautiful face. Not when she needed to gather her thoughts. So instead, she focused on the small, white buttons of his tuxedo shirt.

  “And then?”

  Rebecca took a deep breath. “And then I ran into Cole.” She looked up, and her eyes met his. “I know he told you.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “It’s not exactly something I like to broadcast. ‘Hi, I’m Rebecca. I nearly died. Oh, and it’s been three years since I had sex.’” She rolled her eyes. “Not exactly awe-inspiring. More like a guaranteed dick-deflator.”

  “Darlin’, I don’t want to brag, but if I recall, my dick was anything but deflated.”

  A small laugh bubbled up from inside her. What was it about this man that could make her smile no matter how awkward or absurd the situation?

  “What I don’t get is how you could think what he told me would change the way I felt about you.” Brody shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. I knew about your illness before we went back to my place.”

  “I thought I was just …”

  Realization dawned, and his expression morphed into something halfway between anger and relief. She’d seen the look on her brother’s face once or twice before. It was the one that said he couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake her or hug her. “You thought you were a pity fuck?” Judging by the tone of his voice, he was definitely leaning more toward the shake.

  Not trusting her voice, Rebecca only nodded.

  “How could you?”

  “Because I’m not at all like the women you usually date. I’m not six feet tall with giant boobs and long, flowing hair. I’m a book nerd who knows jack shit about football, and if I tried to wear a pair of red-soled shoes, I’d probably end up in a cast.”

  “Don’t do that,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “Don’t put yourself down like that.”

  Brody’s words cut through her carefully constructed armor. Self-deprecating humor was Rebecca’s go-to in any uncomfortable situation, bu
t he wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily.

  “My point is,” she said, “I’m just Rebecca Halstead, book-hoarding wedding planner, and you’re…” She waved her hand through the air as she searched for the right words and failed. “Well, you’re…you!”

  “No,” he corrected. “You’re Rebecca Halstead, book-hoarding wedding planner, devoted sister, caring friend.” He slipped his finger under her chin, tilting her face toward his so that she couldn’t look away. “And most importantly, you’re the woman I love.”

  The woman he loves…

  The words ricocheted around her head, but before she’d had a chance to process what he’d said, his arms were around her, hauling her against the hard planes of his body and claiming her mouth with a deep, possessive kiss. Her knees buckled, and his grip tightened, supporting the weight of her with one hand as the other found its way into her hair.

  She was breathless by the time he broke their kiss, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you too, Brody.” Her words were barely audible, but the groan that vibrated in the back of his throat told her he’d heard her loud and clear.

  He pulled back, staring at her for what felt like an eternity before cocking one questioning brow. “What do you say, think you could handle hanging out with me on a more permanent basis?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How permanent?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. For starters, I thought maybe I could move in here since, as you say, I live in a ridiculous hotel,” he said, quoting her previous statement.

  “You won’t be happy here.” She glanced around. “It’s a shoe box with books. I don’t have a home theatre or a gym or a meditation room or a—”

  Brody pressed his finger to her lips. “I’ll be happy anywhere. As long as I’m with you.”

  Epilogue

  February…

  Rebecca watched Cole with a fascination that never grew old. When she’d first met the brother she never knew she had, he’d been an uptight megalomaniac bachelor. Now he was a husband and a father. And while he was still prone to some of the same tendencies, there was no denying the change that had come over him since his wife, and now daughter, came into his life.

  Cole swayed from side to side, bouncing gently as he soothed the little pink bundle who had turned his life upside down from the moment she came screaming into the world. Based on what a caring brother and husband he’d been, Rebecca had no doubt he would be a great father. But even she wasn’t prepared for the sight of her brother with a baby carrier strapped to his chest.

  To put it bluntly, Evaline Susannah Ramsey-Grant had her daddy wrapped around her tiny finger.

  He had thought Evie was too young to attend an NFL game, but Olivia had convinced him that traveling with a three-month-old was perfectly fine, and in the end, they had compromised—private plane so as not to expose her to the “cesspool of germs” on a commercial flight, and a skybox so as not to expose her to a “cesspool of people.”

  Of course, the rest of them benefited from the deal as well. If scoring any ticket to the Super Bowl was like striking gold, then watching the game from a luxury skybox was like owning the whole mine. Not that Hank and Cassie could have just plopped themselves down in any old seat. Well, technically, Hank and Cassie could. But not Prince Henry and his future bride. And since the world now knew they were one and the same, Hank’s days of going unnoticed at large public gatherings were a thing of the past. Which was why His Royal Highness was currently listening to one of the team’s owners explain the nuances of something called “quarters” coverage while munching on tortilla chips served in a miniature helmet and smothered with liquid cheese.

  “For someone who claimed to despise American football,” Rebecca said when Cassie joined her by the buffet, “he sure knows a lot about it now.”

  Cassie laughed. “Hank doesn’t do anything halfway.”

  “No wonder the three of them get along so well.” Brody, Cole, and Hank had many differences, but one trait they shared was an almost compulsive drive to succeed.

  “How are the wedding plans going?” Rebecca had enjoyed planning Hank and Cassie’s US engagement party, but it was a mere fraction of the scope of their European wedding. As a professional, she found the process intriguing, but as Cassie’s friend, she knew the future princess found the whole thing more than a little overwhelming.

  “Good,” Cassie said. “Everything is pretty much set on my end. All I have to do now is show up and smile.” Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, but there was one exciting development.” She nodded to her feet. As usual, she was wearing a pair of Keds that bore some sort of whimsical design. The tradition had started back when her mother would send her holiday care packages with various food items, a plush toy of some sort, and a pair of shoes in keeping with the holiday: hearts for Valentines, shamrocks for St. Pat’s, even a pair with tiny ballots to wear on Election Day. Today, she wore what else but a pair covered with tiny footballs. “Hank got me a pair of Keds to wear to the wedding.”

  “No way.”

  Cassie nodded. “I mean, he had them custom made, and they’re covered with Swarovski crystals.” She rolled her eyes. “But he knew how nervous I was about walking down the crazy long aisle at the cathedral. This way, I don’t have to worry about going ‘arse over tits’ in front of a few hundred cameras.”

  A young man in a headset tapped on the open door. “It’s time, Ms. Halstead.”

  “Can he really not play the game without a kiss from his girlfriend?” Conor teased as he grabbed a plate and began working his way through the buffet.

  “He can play,” Hank said, joining their group. He wrapped his arms around his fiancée from behind and planted a kiss to her temple. “He just might not win.”

  Rebecca had given Brody a good luck kiss before the first game, which the Bears won in what the announcers called an “old-fashioned ass-whooping.” And since like most athletes, Brody was superstitious, he’d insisted on a sideline kiss before the start of every game since. Rebecca thought it was rather silly, but the entire team had come to believe she was their good luck charm, and who was she to rock that boat?

  The fans loved it too, so much so that the networks had started airing the moment on television. The “Brody Dixon Kiss Cam” seemed a bit over the top, but then again, so was their entire life. They’d started out with the best of intentions. Just a couple of lovebirds snuggled up in her one-bedroom brownstone apartment, oblivious to the rest of the world. Yeah, that lasted one night. The press had caught wind of their story shortly after the botched episode of Sweetheart aired, which meant they had paparazzi, not to mention curious fans, on the sidewalk starting that very next morning. Most of the fans kept their distance, but a few of the more zealous ones rang the bell, which had Rebecca coming around to the idea of a doorman in no time. At least when they were in the city.

  Of course, retreating to a building with twenty-four-hour security hadn’t meant they had twenty-four-hour privacy. To keep Brody from being sued, and Marguerite from having a stroke, Rebecca had agreed to letting the show tag along on a few of their more public outings. It gave the network something to air during the normal American Sweetheart time slot and, according to Team Dixon, had propelled Brody’s popularity into the stratosphere. None of that mattered to Rebecca, but since she was the one who had gotten her boyfriend into the jam in the first place, she was more than happy to help him find his way out.

  Her boyfriend.

  Even after months of calling him that, not to mention seeing him naked whenever she felt like it—which to be fair, was a lot—the endearment still set off a flurry of butterflies deep inside her belly.

  Conor took a beer from the waiter. “Well then, by all means, smooch away.” He paused as he was about to take a sip, grinning over the rim of the glass. “I’ve got money riding on this game.”

  “A whole ten dollars?” Cole teased.

  “Fuck off. I’ve got one large on our boy.”

  Cole covered
Evie’s small ears. “Watch your language around my kid.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes, “She’s only three months old, Cole. I don’t think she’s going to start swearing anytime soon.”

  “Well, in that case, watch your mouth around my kid, dickhead,” he said, adding a bit of color to his previous commentary.

  The young man in the headset shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Ms. Halstead?”

  “Oh yeah, sorry.” She ran a hand through her hair. It was a little longer now, and she still wasn’t used to it. Of course, there was a lot about her life that Rebecca wasn’t quite used to. Didn’t mean she wasn’t enjoying the ride. “Lead the way.”

  She followed the young man out of the luxury suite and into an elevator that whisked them to the ground floor. When the doors slid open, Rebecca was immediately struck by how different the atmosphere was compared to the other games she’d attended during the season, even the play-offs. There was an electricity in the air, some intangible element charged with anticipation. Everything that had come before—training camp and practices, injuries and ice baths, films and playbooks—none of it mattered anymore. The blowouts, the nail-biters, they were all forgotten. Everything came down to this one game.

  Despite the buzz behind the scenes, nothing could have prepared her for the sights and sounds that bombarded her the moment she stepped onto the sidelines. The stadium was one of the largest she’d been in, with row after row of seats looming for what felt like miles overhead. Nearly everyone in the crowd was sporting their favorite team’s colors, and much to her delight, more than half wore blue and orange, with most of those sporting a jersey emblazoned with number fourteen.

  Rebecca was wearing Brody’s number as well, but unlike the fans in the stadium, hers had actually been worn during a game. The first game of the season, as a matter of fact. The one where he’d kissed her on the sidelines then proceeded to throw for 287 yards and three touchdown passes. And that didn’t even count the rushing yards or the ball he snuck into the end zone just before halftime. According to him—and based on what she’d read online, most sports reporters—it was the turning point in the second act of Brody’s career. Which was why he not only insisted on continuing the tradition of a pregame kiss, but of wearing the lucky jersey as well. Since away games meant a different color, and the Super Bowl meant uniforms with special patches and insignias, there were Sundays like this one when Rebecca found herself decked out in the lucky jersey, despite the fact that it hung almost to her knees.