by Lexi Ryan
He leans forward and whispers something in my ear the phone’s mic can’t make out, but I laugh, fist his shirt in my hand, and pull him down for a long kiss.
“It’s not time for that part yet,” he says, amusement in every word.
I look to the officiant, and when he nods, I take a deep breath. “Marston, you’re the first man I loved. When you came into my life, you saw me when no one else bothered.” I bow my head, and the sounds of my ragged breaths are clear even if the picture isn’t. “I’m not marrying you because I think it will be easy. I’m marrying you because I want to be the kind of mother who shows her children that the best things—the right things—are worth fighting for.” I take his hand and squeeze. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you sooner, but you’re mine now and will be for as long as you give me the honor of holding your heart. Wear this ring, and let the circle be a symbol of our love. Something that has no beginning and no end—just as what we feel for each other seemed to exist before we met. Even a decade apart won’t end or weaken it.”
“Mommy, who are you talking to?” Cami calls from the living room.
My heart skips a beat and I pause the recording. “Just watching a video on my phone, honey.”
“Sounds like you,” she says.
I swallow and lower the volume before pressing play again.
Marston looks into my eyes and shakes his head solemnly. “When I realized it was really you sitting at that bar tonight, Alec told me I should consider another night with you a gift. I told him that one night wouldn’t be enough. From the moment I saw you in that ridiculous tulle dress at your sweet sixteen party, I thought you were special. Then you smiled, and I knew you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I talked a big game, but back then I didn’t believe I deserved you. A lot has changed in the last ten years, and now I can finally take care of you. I can give you anything you need, buy you any luxury you want.”
I shake my head a half-second before the image of me on-screen does the same. “I don’t need luxuries.”
“I know. I see that. But I need to be able to give them to you. Because you’re what matters most to me.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it before sliding the ring on, and my heart tugs with longing. I want to be the woman who can wear his ring. I want to be the one who’s confident enough to promise forever. But the girl on that screen must’ve forgotten who she was and what scared her. “Wear this ring, and know that the diamond is a symbol of our love. It’s you and me. It’s what we have. We can withstand anything and come out on the other side stronger.”
I watch as I throw myself at him and bury my face in his chest.
“Brinley, do you take Marston to be your lawfully wedded husband?” the officiant asks.
Marston chuckles at my muffled “I do!”
“And Marston, do you take Brinley to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
He looks down at me, and I wish the angle of the camera allowed me to see the look in his eyes. Wish this video would let me zoom in all the way to what I saw in that moment, wish it could have recorded my thoughts and feelings so I could understand. “I do,” he says softly.
“For as much as Brinley Knox and Marston Rowe have committed to each other before myself and the witnesses here, Brinley and Marston are now husband and wife in accordance with the laws of the state of Nevada.”
The woman holding the camera cheers, and Marston cups my face in his hands and lowers his head. The video ends as his lips brush mine.
I turn down the volume and immediately push play on the video again, as if it might trigger a memory. I’m watching myself kiss him before our vows when a message from Julian flashes on the screen.
Julian: Running a little late. On my way.
The text is immediately followed by a knock on the door.
“Stella’s here!” Cami says, racing to answer. Because tonight, Julian and I have dinner with my parents and their best friends from Orchid Valley to celebrate our upcoming wedding. And I was so caught up in watching the footage of my prior wedding that I forgot.
I rush to the sink and brace myself on the edge as I run the water cold.
“Hey, kiddo,” Stella says. The click of her heels across the hardwood floor grows closer. “What are we going to do tonight?”
“We could Netflix and chill?” Cami asks.
Stella snort-laughs. “Just call it watching Netflix.”
“Why?”
“Well, Netflix and chill is kind of something people say when they’re, um, dating.”
“Oh.” Cami giggles. “Really?”
“Really.” When Stella steps into the kitchen, I’m splashing cold water on my face. “Brinley, baby.”
“Mom’s stressed about the wedding,” Cami says quietly.
“I can see that.” Stella’s steps soften and grow closer as I pat my face dry. Her hand is gentle on my shoulder. “Cami, honey, can you go to the living room? I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
Breathe. Just breathe.
I turn and wrap my arms around her, needing the reassuring hug of my oldest friend. And it helps. God, does it help. Stella, Abbi, Savvy—these girls are my family now. If my parents find out about the mess I’m in and disown me, I won’t lose my girls. Their love has never been contingent on a damn thing.
“Is this about having dinner with your parents, or is it about Julian?” she asks softly, hugging me back.
“Both.”
She strokes my hair. “Want me to see if Kace can babysit so I can go with you tonight?”
Pulling back, I manage a shaky smile. “You really want to face my parents again?”
She scoffs. “Well, no. I don’t. But I will if it helps you.”
The clunk of the front door is followed by the sound of heavy steps toward the kitchen. Julian’s here.
I shake my head. “I’ve got this. Cami would be heartbroken if I took away her night with Aunt Stella.”
She grins. “I am pretty cool.”
“But are you cool enough to get her to finish packing for Disney?” I ask, pressing my hands together as if I’m praying.
She laughs. “Sure. I’m guessing you made her a list?”
I grin. “Of course. It’s in her room.”
“Hey, Stella,” Julian says, joining us in the kitchen. “Thanks for watching Cami tonight.”
She gives him a tight smile. “No problem.”
He looks me over and frowns. “Ready?” He no doubt recognizes I’m still in the same clothes I wore to work, never mind the mess I undoubtedly made of my makeup when I rinsed my face. If he’s thinking my mother would never approve, he’s right.
“I need five minutes to freshen up.” And pull myself together. I jog to my bedroom and kick the door shut behind me. I unzip my dress and shimmy out of it even as I’m digging through my closet for a fresh one. I tell myself I don’t care about my parents’ opinion anymore, but everyone knows that’s bullshit. I don’t want them to be disappointed in me, and I know if they are, that disappointment will dog me for days. If changing outfits and freshening my makeup is going to keep my mother from making some snarky comment, it’s worth it.
In less than five minutes, I’m heading back to the kitchen, where I find Julian leaning against the counter and staring at his phone. No—my phone.
“Brinley and Marston are now husband and wife in accordance with the laws of the state of Nevada,” the voice from the video says.
Julian lifts his eyes to meet mine, and his pain is so clear there. The words I’m sorry sit heavily on my tongue. I am sorry. But I don’t like that he looked at my messages without asking. I am sorry. But saying the words won’t get us out of this awful limbo we’ve found ourselves in.
He straightens and hands my phone back to me. “You don’t even sound drunk,” he says, and the words sound like an accusation.
I take it and drop it into my clutch. “I know.”
He studies me for a long time before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to the side
of my neck. “Don’t let him ruin us.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brinley
March 4th, before
“You’re going to get us caught,” Marston says, but I feel his smile against my mouth as I tug him into my room. He smells a little like sweat and grass clippings from working with the yard crew for the last few hours, but the earthy rawness of him only makes me want him more.
“My parents are gone until six tonight. The only one here is Lori, and she’s cleaning carpets downstairs today.” I kick the door closed and begin unbuttoning my shirt. “But you can go if you want.”
He growls and nudges me to the bed until the backs of my legs hit the mattress. Giggling, I lie down, grab a fistful of his V-neck, and tug him closer. He crawls on top of me, his knees on either side of my hips, one hand behind my neck and the other sliding down into my shirt to cup me through my bra, too impatient for me to finish undressing.
His kisses are searing and hungry, on my mouth, my jaw, my neck, behind my ear—all the places he knows I like the feel of his lips. I arch into his touch as his thumb skims my nipple in slow, torturous circles. “You’re sure?” he asks.
“Hurry.”
He chuckles against my neck. “I thought you said we had plenty of time.”
“Not long enough.” I take his hand and guide it down to my skirt and between my legs. He strokes me through my panties, and I draw up one knee to give him better access, rocking into him.
“Brinley!”
Marston jumps off the bed before I fully register the sound of my father’s voice.
“What do you think you’re doing to my daughter?” Dad’s eyes are wide, his nostrils flared as he stalks toward Marston, and I freeze, paralyzed by fear.
Marston hangs his head and deflates. The guy I love. The guy who loves me but doesn’t believe he’s good enough—he deflates under my father’s anger, and the sight of that breaks something inside me.
I scramble off the bed, stepping between Dad and Mars. “Daddy, it’s fine.”
“This is between me and Rowe.” Dad palms my shoulder and pushes me to the side. “I give you a job, and you repay me by assaulting my daughter?”
“He didn’t assault me! I brought him in here. I love him.”
It happens so fast I don’t even see it coming. The sting of my father’s slap is so sharp that I expect to find blood on my face. I drop back on my bed, cradling my face in my hand.
“I won’t let my daughter act like some low-class slut.”
“Don’t touch her!” Marston lunges at my father as my mom walks in the door. His fist connects with Dad’s jaw with so much power that my father’s head snaps back. He stumbles into Mom, and she loses her balance and knocks her head on the doorframe.
I hop off the bed and wrap my arms around Marston from behind, pulling him back to keep him from going after Dad again.
“Harriet, call the police,” Dad says. His lip’s bleeding, and Marston’s knuckles are bright red.
“Yeah,” Marston says, “call them and let them know you hit your daughter.”
Tears roll hot and heavy over my throbbing cheek. “No. Don’t. He’ll leave. It’s fine.” My voice shakes. “Please.”
Mom searches her pockets and finally comes up with her phone, but she scans the room instead of dialing. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You let your daughters get away with everything.” Dad yanks her phone out of her hand and starts to dial.
I lurch forward and grab it from him. “Marston is leaving.”
There’s panic in Marston’s eyes, but his jaw is set, determination written in the hard line of his mouth. “I don’t want to leave you with him. He hit you, Brinley. That’s not okay.”
“It wasn’t anything. He didn’t mean it. Just go. Please.” My whole body shakes, and I beg, “Do it for me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Brinley
Present day
My father stands at the end of the long table at Orchid Valley’s finest restaurant, looking like a king ready to speak to his subjects. Every eye in the room is drawn to him even before he clears his throat to get their attention. Abraham Knox has that effect on people—whether they love him or hate him, they all fall into line.
He hoists his champagne flute in the air. “I’d like to propose a toast to my daughter Brinley, for finally finding someone who’ll marry her.”
Uncomfortable chuckles sprinkle throughout the room. Maybe a few of those laughs are sincere. I tell myself Dad’s friends are the only ones who’d find that joke funny, but people are assholes, so who knows. Beside me, Julian shifts uncomfortably, and I flash him a grateful smile.
“You’ve done well, Brinley,” Dad continues, “and I know that somewhere, your sister is looking down on you and she’s proud. She would have wanted you to be happy. Remember how much she loved weddings?” His face crumples, and he bows his head for a beat. Mom reaches up to squeeze his hand. “Brittany would’ve been such a beautiful bride, but life isn’t fair, so I’ll only get to watch one daughter walk down the aisle. Only watch one daughter say her vows.”
All I can do is focus on my breathing. A deep breath in, a long exhale. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This is the cost of being the daughter who lived. Nothing’s ever really about you again. It’s always about the child who was lost.
“But we take the good with the bad,” Dad continues. He shifts a bit to focus on my fiancé. “We’re so proud to invite you into our family, Julian. I know you’ll take good care of Brinley. You’ll be her rock when she’s unsteady. You’ll be her brain when she misplaces hers.”
Everyone laughs at this “joke,” and my stomach cramps.
“As long as you’re by her side, I’ll know I don’t have to worry. And I thank you for that.” He lifts his glass a little higher and smiles broadly. “To the happy couple!”
“To the happy couple,” everyone choruses.
Julian takes a sip of his champagne before reaching under the table to take my hand. “You okay?” he whispers.
I nod. Nothing unexpected here. But tears well in my eyes anyway.
The woman next to me leans over and pats my shoulder. I don’t remember her name, but she was a regular at Mom and Dad’s parties back in the day—always wearing diamonds and kissing ass. “We all miss Brittany, sweetheart,” she says. “Just try to put on a smile for your parents.”
I take my napkin and dab my eyes, smiling as she’s so graciously suggested. “Thank you,” I say, as if she just offered me profound advice. As if people haven’t been telling me that for the last eleven years. Just smile. Be strong for your parents. And, the platitude I hate the most: Everything happens for a reason.
I turned that last one back on them when I got knocked up at seventeen. Most of them didn’t get my point—that they only say such things when it suits them—but it shut some of them up.
“Excuse me.” I push my chair back and stand. If I sit here one more minute, I’m at risk of either vomiting or screaming at the whole table. Maybe I’ll really make a statement and do both. “I just need a minute.”
Julian’s chair squeaks against the tile floor as he pushes back and stands next to me. “I’m coming with you.”
I want to be alone, but we’ve already attracted too much attention, so I take his hand rather than risk making a scene. Hand in hand, we wind our way around the table and toward the front of the restaurant. I try to keep my steps even, to let Julian set the pace, since I’m apt to run.
The host rushes forward and opens the door for us, and when the night air hits my face, I draw in a long, deep breath.
You’re okay. Just breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
The early spring evening is mild, and when the door closes behind us, trapping the cacophony of the restaurant inside, it’s like finally breaking the surface after being held underwater.
Julian rubs his big hands down my bare arms as if he’s trying to warm me, and
I have to take another deep breath to keep myself from swatting his hands away. “They don’t mean to hurt you, Brinley.”
I’m not sure that’s true. “It’s not that.” And it’s not. Dad’s barbs hurt. They always do. But the anxiety pressing down on my chest has more to do with the wedding than with my parents.
Julian pulls me close and trails soft, leisurely kisses down my neck. His mouth is sweet, his kisses tender, but his touch does nothing to melt away the anxiety that has me in knots.
“What’s going on out here?” Savannah asks in a singsong voice behind us, the click of heels on the sidewalk growing closer.
Julian groans as he lifts his head. “I would think that was obvious, Savvy. I was trying to seduce my fiancée.”
“Right here on the street? You should at least put out a bucket for tips.”
I turn around in time to see the annoyance on my best friend’s face. Savvy was Team Marston before she ever met him. “Don’t worry,” I say. “We’re keeping it PG-13 so we don’t offend innocent eyes like yours.”
Julian chuckles softly, and Savvy shifts her purse into her other hand to give me a one-armed squeeze. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
Julian frowns at me. “You invited Savannah?”
I shrug. “Strength in numbers.”
“Did I miss anything good?” Savvy asks.
“My dad gave a speech about how I’m a dumb, incompetent woman who’s lucky a man like Julian is willing to take me on as his charge.”
Julian grimaces. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“The way he talks, everyone in that room probably believes I’d electrocute myself making toast without supervision.”
Savvy wrinkles her nose. “At least he’s consistent?”