by B. Cranford
Cee-Cee Moore had resigned from handling his clients, which meant new paperwork and a new contact at her company. Not that he minded that, at all. He was happy to not have to deal with the woman anymore—though he was able to admit she was exceptional at her job, he also knew she was not an exceptional person, so he looked forward to meeting his new contact.
She’d been lingering in Jade’s life, in Declan’s life with her, for far too long.
“I don’t think it’s weird. It’s not like we’re doing the traditional thing.”
“You’re not sorry about that, are you?”
“About what? That our wedding isn’t going to have eight attendants each, a full string section and four course meal with dessert buffet? No.” She paused, raising one finger to the corner of her mouth, tap, tap, tapping the manicured tip against her lip. “Well, I am actually a little sorry about the dessert buffet. But that’s all.”
And he knew it was the truth. His Jade wasn’t into tradition. From her pierced ears to her tattoos to the Tarheel-blue streaked hair she still sported, she was a little bit out there. A little bit different. Or, as she’d say, a little bit crazy.
“I’m going to go find Seb and, I don’t know. Watch something? Do something? Build something?”
“What are you going to build in one day?”
“Not Rome, that’s for sure.” He watched as her eyes widened when the corny joke registered, loving the way she got his sense of humor.
“I liked that one,” she said, smiling back at him.
“It was one of my better ones,” he admitted, knowing that sometimes he missed the mark. “You ready?”
After looking herself up and down, Jade stepped forward and held out a hand, waiting for his to slide against her own before heading out of the guest room and toward breakfast.
And after that, toward forever.
Sebastian: Is yours as anxious as mine?
Bright Star: My what now?
Sebastian: Jade. Is she as antsy as Declan?
Bright Star: Surprisingly, no. She’s getting her hair done by one of her sisters.
Bright Star: And she’s only joked about drinking twice.
Bright Star: Wait. Make that three times.
Sebastian: Declan has been pacing for 45 minutes. I’m getting kind of sick from watching him.
Sebastian: It’s like a game of tennis. I’m silently adding the noise of the ball bouncing around and the grunts of the players.
Bright Star: Shouldn’t you be helping him calm down?
Sebastian: Brighton, when has anyone ever calmed down when told to calm down?
Bright Star: Okay, fair point. I never have.
Bright Star: I hate it when people tell me to calm down.
Sebastian: I know you do . . .
Bright Star: What does that mean?
Sebastian: Not a thing. So, Jade? Good? Yes?
Bright Star: I’m narrowing my eyes at you.
Sebastian: Yeah, well, I’m playing tennis matches in my head.
Bright Star: Did he say why he’s anxious?
Sebastian: No, but I can guess.
Bright Star: Really?
Sebastian: Come on, Bright Star. You can guess too.
Bright Star: Umm . . .
Sebastian: He’s getting married today.
Bright Star: That’s it?
Sebastian: THAT’S IT?
Bright Star: I wasn’t nervous or pacing.
Bright Star: Were you?!
Sebastian: Yes, of course.
Sebastian: What if you changed your mind? What if you realized you could do better? What if you ran away like some kind of runaway bride?
Bright Star: Like some kind of runaway bride?
Sebastian: I was nervous. Give me a break.
Bright Star: I was never going to change my mind.
Bright Star: And even if I had, I wouldn’t have gotten far.
Sebastian: Oh yes, why’s that?
Sebastian: Because you love me so much?
Sebastian: Because you knew you’d never survive without me?
Sebastian: Because I’m irresistible?
Brighton: Because I was too pregnant to move fast.
Declan glanced over to where Sebastian was looking down at his phone, making a half-scoff, half-laugh sound.
A scarf?
“Everything okay over there?” Declan was asking about the check-in he knew his friend was having with Brighton, but he also hoped to get an update on how Jade was doing. “Jade is okay, right?”
“Of course. Are you okay, though? You look mildly nauseous.”
“Dude. I can’t stop worrying she won’t show.” Declan swallowed harshly, feeling like he was betraying Jade by even discussing his irrational concerns with Seb, but he also needed some reassurance. “I know she worries about people leaving her, always. Being forgotten, you know?”
Sebastian nodded, so Declan continued, “If what I’m feeling right now is even half of what she was feeling, no wonder she was so scared and so standoffish. Jesus.” He ran a finger along the collar of his shirt. “I want it over. I want it done. Which makes me sound like the Jackass she always said I was, but fuck. Like, seriously, man. Fuck.”
The heat in the room—his home office, where he and Sebastian had retreated after getting dressed, leaving the master bedroom free for Jade and Brighton and hair and make-up—felt stifling. “I think I’m having a panic attack. Is that what’s . . . is that what this is?”
“Maybe?” Sebastian sounded as uncertain as Declan felt, but his next words were designed to reassure. “She loves you, Dec.”
“How did she deal with this for so long? I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. It’s the actual worst. And I feel like an asshole.”
“If it helps, you look like an asshole, too.” The dry response from Sebastian shook loose some of the anxiety coursing through Declan’s body.
He knew he was being an idiot, but little things kept piling on in his mind—all the times she’d said no to forgiving him, the times she’d snarked at him, calling him Jackass and meaning it.
She was elusive, his Freckles. A spitfire who burned on the inside and flamed on the outside. He’d wanted her for so long, had been patient, understanding. And then, when she finally let him in, loving.
But Jesus, he’d never known fear like this. And to think that she’d lived with it for so long? Made him love her all the more.
She wasn’t just elusive. She was fucking strong.
His mind wanted his body to follow that train of thought all the way to their bedroom, where he knew she was still getting ready, and make sure she knew how incredible he thought she was, but a knock on the door halted him. Sebastian strode across the room, opening the door, then walking through it—clearly giving him alone time with his visitor.
He expected his mom. Maybe his father, though their relationship wasn’t the best. But it wasn’t either of them.
It was Jade.
And she was biting her lip, apprehension clear on her face.
“Freckles, I don—I don’t know what to say.” He paused in an attempt to gather himself, because there in front of him was her. The one. In a wedding dress that was—“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He walked toward her as she did the same, catching a glimpse of sparkling shoes peeking out from underneath the pink material. He smirked as he stood in front of her, offering a “nice shoes” before meeting her lips with his own for a longing kiss.
She pulled back slightly, leaving their lips still close enough to brush softly together. “I thought you might like them. They’re not yellow, but . . .”
“Yellow? I think silver is my new favorite color, actually.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before kissing her again, the need to make sure she was real and there overtaking any further attempt to talk he might’ve made.
She smiled sweetly up at him when the kiss finally broke and he would swear that he could feel his heart beating in his ear, feel his blood pumping through his veins. “I
missed you. And I’m ready now, so I figured we’d wait together.”
“Thank God. I’ve been a little”—he broke off, worried that admitting his fears would hurt her, but ultimately deciding honesty was the best policy—“a little nervous I’d get out there and you’d have changed your mind.”
Her face softened, her eyes glittering as tears began to form. “Me too,” she whispered, leaning in to his body. “I tried to hide it, though.”
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. And I’m really damn glad we’re doing this today.” He cleared his throat, feeling the rush of nerves, of uncertainty, drain from his being. She was here. She was ready.
And so was he.
But before they could walk down that aisle together, he had something for her.
“I didn’t know what to get you for Christmas.” His confession was met by a frown, but he plowed on. “I was so focused on the engagement and asking you to marry me, I kind of blanked on it.”
She laughed, a happy sound matching the look on her face. She’d kept her make-up minimal, the freckles he was enamored with highlighted by her dark pink lips, her winged eyeliner and some kind of powder that made her look like she was glowing.
“You could have just given me the ring. I would have loved that.” And she was being honest, he knew. She would have loved that, even if it wasn’t the done thing according to Brighton and Sebastian. But, oh well. He couldn’t wait to give her the gifts he picked just for her.
“I know. But you deserve spoiling. You want your presents now, or tomor—”
“Now,” she cut in, her eagerness as amusing as it was cute. “Please.”
He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, then walked over to his desk. The presents Sebastian had brought over that morning, along with the book from his office, were locked in the large bottom drawer, so he swiftly unlocked it and pulled out four wrapped gifts.
“Holy wow, how much did you get me?” Jade looked a little abashed, adding, “I only got you two things. And one of them is under this dress . . . and maybe complements the shoes.” She bit her lip and gestured down to her light pink gown, which clung to her body like a second skin, and looked in turn like the perfect princess wedding dress and a unique style that was so very Jade.
He groaned. “Fuuuuuck. That dress. Those shoes. And whatever is underneath. You’re killing me. I cannot wait for tonight.” He wasn’t kidding, either. And though he was definitely eager to see what lay under the dress, he was also still simply ready for her to be his, officially.
Her smirk only served to stoke the fire, but Declan was determined to carry on. “This one first?” He held up a small, square box and, at Jade’s nod, passed it over to her.
Jade looked at the gift in her hand. It was small enough to fit in her palm and was the size of a ring box. If they weren’t minutes away from getting married, she might have thought he was proposing. “Did you forget we’re already engaged?” she joked, carefully unwrapping the silky ribbon and sliding the top off the box.
“Like I could forget that.”
She looked up at him as she upended the box and another slid free. It was a ring box. Creamy in color, with gold lettering atop. “Then what is it?”
“Open it,” he urged in place of a reply.
Her breath escaped her all at once when she saw the ring nestled within. Silver or, more likely, knowing Declan, platinum, it was a delicate band with a small 3D bird where a more traditional ring might have a diamond or some other stone.
He appeared beside her, and took the ring from the box before explaining, “I know it’s not always considered a love song—that people think it’s about ending a relationship or whatever.” He paused, looking somewhat concerned. “I looked it up online.”
“And?” she asked, wanting him to continue. She knew the song he was referring to. The one she’d told him was her favorite; the one they’d danced to at the Christmas party a week or so earlier. Songbird.
“But it’s your song. With your Mom. And I think, kind of ours, too?” He looked like he wasn’t sure she’d agree, but she did.
Holding her hand out, palm down, she waited for Declan to slide the ring on the middle finger of her right hand, then lifted it up for closer inspection.
The wings were filigreed, decorated by tiny diamond pieces, and the detail on the bird’s face intricate.
It was stunning. Simple, yet perfect.
“I love it. I love you.” She dropped her hand, then wrapped both arms around his waist, resting her chin on his chest so she could look up at him. “Thank you.”
“There’s more,” he replied, not moving to offer her his other gifts, preferring to draw her in tighter, closer.
“They can wait. Let’s go get married instead.”
Christmas Day
“The wedding went off without a hitch—unless you count Declan and Jade getting hitched a hitch,” Brighton whispered into Stella’s ear, the dark surrounding them telling of the late, late hour.
Or early morning, technically.
“Santa came, baby girl,” she continued, making quick work of changing the sleepy baby’s diaper and getting her warm onesie back in place. “I think you’re on the nice list this year, don’t you?”
“You certainly are, Bright Star.”
Brighton spun at the sound of Sebastian’s voice, loving the casual way he leaned against the door frame. “Hi, I’m nearly done.”
“Want me to take her?” he offered, stepping in closer, but Brighton shook her head. “You sure?”
“Yeah, she’s practically asleep again already. I just need to finish feeding her and I’ll be in.”
“I’ll wait.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Sebastian insisted, sliding down the wall of the nursery and watching as Brighton settled back into her gliding chair and got Stella attached.
“I’m happy.” The words were soft, both because she didn’t want to disturb Stella, but also because of the weight and meaning of them. “I’m really happy.”
Silence edged into the room—a contented one. Within minutes, Stella’s rosebud lips stopped moving, her little body relaxed fully in sleep. Brighton righted herself and then gently patted her daughter on the back for a few moments, before laying her down in her crib with a soft kiss and an even softer, “Goodnight, baby girl.”
Then, without a word, she took her husband’s hand and led him back to their bedroom. When he moved to speak, his lips parting, words clearly on the tip of his tongue, she stopped him.
“Thank you for loving me through it.” She pressed a kiss against lips so familiar, she’d know them blindfolded. “I know it’s going to take time, but . . . it feels like it’s going to be okay now. You know? I feel like I’m going to be okay.”
“You’re going to be better than okay, baby. I’ll make sure of it.” Sebastian’s words were a reassurance and a promise.
A safe bet, if ever there was one.
And for Brighton, that was the best Christmas present she could have asked for.
Though the array of antique collector’s edition books she found under the tree when they woke again later that morning—along with the sparkling eternity ring her husband must have bought when ring shopping with Declan weeks earlier and slipped on her finger sometime during the night—came in a very close second.
“Wake up, wifey, wake up,” Declan chanted, his lips near enough to Jade’s ear that she could hear his whisper, but not so close that he startled her. “It’s Christmas,” he added, excitement making him bounce on the bed.
She groaned. “Go ‘way.”
“I’m excited. I haven’t been this excited since I was eight and still believed in Santa Claus. I wanted a skateboard. I got a skateboard.” He paused, and she waited with closed eyes for him to end his story. “Which I kind of, sort of tripped over and sent through the window of the living room. It didn’t go over well.”
She chuckled, but still refused to open her eyes. Though she loved h
is enthusiasm, she was determined to cling to the last vestiges of sleep.
“Mrs. Young, I demand you open your eyes.”
He laughed when she finally opened first one eye, then the other.
“You know, I really should be allowed to sleep in, considering how late you kept me up.” She narrowed sleepy eyes at him, making him laugh even harder.
When he’d contained himself, he threw the blame back at her. “Please, you’d have been tucked in and fast asleep much earlier if not for that present you let me unwrap last night.” He had to be referring to the very sexy, very not-innocent lingerie he’d discovered when he’d helped her out of her wedding dress. “I couldn’t help myself after that. I’m just a man, Jade.”
It was her turn to laugh at the dramatics in his tone, and she leaned up for a kiss. A quick one. Morning breath and all that. “My man.”
“Damn right. So, I was going to get you shoes for Christmas. I thought maybe you could wear them for the wedding but then I figured that you’d want to pick your own.”
“You were right about that,” she replied, picturing the silver heels that glittered like a mirror ball and had carried her down the aisle, arm in arm with Declan. And had then made a reappearance when they were finally alone. “I loved my shoes.”
“Right, but shoes are your thing, so . . .” He held out a rectangular gift, wrapped in simple green paper with a red bow. “It’s not much, but I thought you might like it.”
She smiled, loving that he took the time to shop for things that had meaning, and ready to tear the paper away and reveal what was within. Instead, she carefully untied the silky red ribbon and unpicked the tape to reveal a book with one stunning black and silver heel on the cover.
“I think it’s history of high heels.” He shrugged. “Don’t be mad, but I didn’t read up on it. I just saw the cover and thought of you.”
She ran a hand over the shoe on the cover and smiled down at the book. Even if she never read it, she loved it. It was from him.