I grin beneath the mask, remembering how he’d complained about Bitch-ella’s silk draperies but ultimately became besties with Mrs. Montgomery.
Abi is slowly stepping me closer and closer. I try to remember where the curbs are, where the steps are, and even where the old cracks in the concrete are. I don’t want anything to take me down when I’m so close.
I feel the squishiness of the track under my heeled feet and Abi stops me. “You’ll want to take your shoes off. They’ll sink in the grass.”
She helps hold me steady as I kick off my shoes. I can feel my sundress swishing around my ankles without the added height. She moves me forward a few more steps and then says, “Okay, we’re here.”
“Breathe for me, Vi. And then take the blindfold off,” Abi chirps brightly. I can hear the excitement in her voice and can’t wait. I don’t bother with the breath and just reach up and take the mask off, my heart in my throat, to find . . .
Nothing.
I mean, I’m in our old high school football stadium. I knew that from the parking lot and the walk in, but it’s dark and I can’t see anything, even without the mask.
“What?” I ask, looking around, but it’s too dark to see anything. “What are we doing here?”
“Close your eyes,” Abi says, but it’s not fast enough because suddenly, the whole stadium lights up and I’m blinded by the bright white lights. I throw my hands up to cover my face as I cry out, but slowly, I adjust.
I inch my hands away from my eyes, blinking, and that’s when I see him. Or at least I think I do.
Ross is standing in the other endzone, literally one hundred yards away from me. I only know that from watching him play in high school and college and have literally never watched a game when Ross wasn’t on the field. But he’s not wearing a football jersey now. No, he’s got on dark jeans and a button-down shirt and is holding a beautiful bouquet that I already know Abi made for him to give to me.
That schemer. God, I love her and her crazy ideas.
“Ross?” I whisper, knowing he can’t hear me.
Across the distance, I hear him yelling. “Violet Russo, I love you!”
I gasp and shout back, “I love you too!”
There’s a moment of frozen realization, and then I’m running. I have to hitch my skirt up when I almost trip, but I never miss a step. Running, running, running . . .
Straight into his arms. He catches me, spinning as I wrap my legs around him, our mouths devouring each other as we say it over and over again.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
And I don’t know how we ever thought this wasn’t real because it’s deep and pure and beautiful.
The lights wink out, drenching us in darkness, and Abi’s voice calls out from somewhere. “Well, I’m out. It’s on you two from here. The picnic basket’s on the home team bench, Old Joe’s the new guard and promised to keep any lookie-loos away, and the stadium is yours until morning.”
Ross and I look at each other, so close that we can see each other in the dim light from the sliver of moon that’s rising in the sky. We laugh and say at the same time, “Abi.” She’s a force of nature, my best friend. No, my sister-in-law.
He walks over and grabs the basket Abi left for us, dropping it gently to the center of the fifty-yard line. He spreads out the big blanket and we sit down.
“Oh, hey, Ross?”
“Yeah?” he calls out in the direction of Abi’s fading voice.
“Can you take my girl Violet home? Seems she needs a ride?” She laughs at the thick layer of sexual innuendo she puts on the word ride, and I can’t help but bite my lip, thinking she’s right.
I do need a ride.
“I did have that dream about fucking you under the bleachers, but maybe the fifty-yard line is even better,” I tease. “You think Old Joe would mind?”
Ross growls, “I don’t give a fuck if he does. Get over here, Violet.” He grabs me, pulling me astride his lap before I even get a chance to move. My dress moves easily out of the way, putting my core against the thick ridge of his cock behind his jeans.
“Oh, feeling bossy again, are we?” I say, running my fingers through his hair and down over his shoulders.
“That depends. Are you going to obey or am I going to have to spank you?” he murmurs against the delicate skin of my neck, kisses peppered between the words.
I hum in pleasure and admit, “Both of those sound pretty good.”
“Honey, I love you so much, but I don’t think I can wait. I need to be inside you. I need to be inside my wife.”
I’ll have to examine the words later because the blood is rushing south as my pussy soaks instantly. I fumble between my legs, trying to undo his jeans as quickly as possible.
“Ross, fuck me. Right here, right now,” I plead.
He shoves my hands out of the way and makes faster progress, undoing his jeans and shoving them down his hips. His cock is rock hard, jutting up proudly between us.
He grips my hips, his fingers denting the supple flesh there as he lifts me. With one smooth motion, he sheathes himself in me to the hilt and I see stars. Not in the sky, but between us as my eyes slide shut in ecstasy.
This. This is what I need, what I am.
At one with Ross Andrews, my husband.
Oh, God, the thought drives me wild.
I buck against him, fucking him as he fucks me back, and I feel dangerously out of control but secure in the knowledge that he’s got me. I clench around him, hugging him with my entire body. “Shit, Vi. You feel so good. Do that again,” he grits out.
I tense every muscle in my core, and Ross wraps his arms around my back, holding me in place as he rocks his hips. He doesn’t let me help now, instead making me take it—him, his love, his cock.
It’s all I never knew I wanted.
The new angle rubs my clit against him with every thrust, and I quickly feel my orgasm bearing down on me. “Yes, that’s it. Come on me. Come on my cock, wife.”
I burst into fiery flames of passion, the electricity jolting through my entire body as I shatter and cry out his name. He follows me into the abyss, jerking against me, and I can feel the hot spurts of his cum filling me.
“I love you, Violet,” he groans through his pleasure.
“I love you, Ross,” I answer.
We collapse to the blanket, panting for breath. Too soon, he slides out of me and I shift over to lie on my side next to Ross, one leg thrown over his and my head cradled on his shoulder.
We’re quiet, lost in our thoughts, but then the giddy little girl in me peeps up. “When did you know?”
“Know what?” he says, not letting me skate by. He wants me to say it, but I don’t mind. I’ll say it over and over.
I lift up, leaning on my elbow. “When did you know you loved me?”
He smiles that cocky smile that used to make me so furious, but now, I love it. “I think always. I was just too stupid to know it. Abi and Court have recently enlightened me on just how stupid I’ve always been about so many things.”
I push at his chest. “You’re not stupid. Don’t say that.”
“Truly, I didn’t know when this started. But as our supposedly fake engagement continued, I woke up every morning feeling more and more like it was real. And when you were walking down the aisle toward me, all I wished for was that we could make it real. That somehow, despite my high school idiocy and all the other insanity, I could be the one to wake up next to you every day, that I could be the one to hold you in my arms every night. I wanted . . . I want to be your husband. Because, Violet Russo, somehow, some way, I’ve finally realized something that I should have seen years ago. I love you . . . I’m in love with you. So, Violet Russo, will you marry me? For real, this time?”
The words hang in the air, him asking me to marry him for real . . . or is it again? And before I realize it, a silence has stretched out between us.
But I don’t want to wait. I know my answer.
/> Find your happiness.
I’ve known what that’s been since I was a little girl, it seems.
“I love you too. And yes. I knew when I was walking down that aisle, too. I meant it, every word.”
We seal the words with a kiss, this one honest and real.
Chapter 29
Ross—Two Weeks Later
“Sir, it’s good to see you in such a good mood,” Karl says as he opens the door for me. “I hear congratulations are in order?”
“For real this time,” I reply, shaking his offered hand. “Violet will be here shortly. She’s picking up Papa and Nana from his rehab appointment.”
Karl smiles. “How is Mr. Russo doing?” Karl and Stefano have played chess a couple of times, and they get along very well. “Is he ready for a rematch?”
I lean forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I think he enjoyed his time at the inpatient rehab maybe a bit too much with all the attention.” Karl and I laugh, and I tell him the rest. “He’s home with Nana now, and they have a home health nurse coming every morning. In the afternoon, he goes to outpatient rehabilitation and does his exercises. It’s wearing him out a bit, so you might go easy on him when you play. Let him win every once in a while, you know?” Karl shakes his head. “So far, he’s been a picture-perfect patient, so they’re hopeful he’s going to be okay. At least for a while, and that’s significant, considering his previous prognosis and age.”
Karl raises a stern eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be commenting that Mr. Russo is old, now would you?” If I were generous, I’d say Karl’s in his late sixties, but where Stefano has struggled, Karl is fit and healthy.
“Of course not, Karl. I wouldn’t dare or you’d probably kill me,” I say with a wink.
He grins, patting me a little too firmly on the shoulder as a show of his still-present strength. “Yes, sir. Your mother is around in the garden.”
“Thanks,” I say, heading that way.
I find Mom out by the pool, trimming a few flowers and humming happily under her breath. “Mom?”
Mom looks up, her grin spreading to cover her whole face when she sees me. “Ross, honey!”
“Uh, mind setting down the clippers before you stab me?” I ask as she rushes over, causing her to pause and set her tools down before she hugs me hard. “How are you doing?”
“Just promise me that you’re serious this time, that this is real?” Mom says, her voice thick with happy tears.
“Totally real,” I promise her, hugging her back. “In fact, we decided to make a few changes just to show how serious we’re going to be.”
“Like what?” Mom asks, leading me over to the outdoor couch on the patio and having me take a seat. “Please don’t tell me that you’re going to re-invite Violet’s entire family. I mean, they’re lovely people, but things got a little out of hand last time even without the . . . theatrics.”
I laugh. That’s Mom. An interrupted reception, a fist fight, and a fake marriage, all caught on camera and played on the evening news . . . theatrics.
“We are thinking that smaller would be the way to go, a lot smaller, actually,” I admit. “Now that Papa Stefano is doing better, we were thinking a nice, long engagement . . .”
I let it drag out, purposefully teasing Mom a bit, and she looks at me harshly. But I can read the humor in her eyes and relent. “Okay, long like about six months or so, then a small ceremony, just the close family?”
Mom smiles, nodding excitedly. “Oh, you can have it here at the estate, and we can all pitch in. Abi can do the flowers, of course, and maybe Angela and Sofia could make dinner, and Karl would be happy to help Archie set up the altar. That sounds perfect.” I can hear the relief in her voice.
I hear footsteps approaching and Dad calls out, “Don’t stroke the boy’s ego, Kimberly. Lord knows, he’s arrogant enough as it is.”
I laugh. Dad and I aren’t completely repaired, but we’ve had a couple of long conversations and talked through some of the things Abi and Court brought to my attention. It was uncomfortable as fuck, neither of us particularly adept at discussing things as nebulous as feelings. But we’d muddled through and we’re back on solid footing, secure enough to tease each other a bit.
“Well, you must think I’m perfect too, if that’s where your mind immediately jumps,” I retort, and Dad chucks me under the chin. “Mom was talking about it being perfect to have the wedding here. In six months.”
Dad sits down, his lips pursed. “Is that what you want?”
As Abi and Court said, that’s progress. Dad isn’t making suggestions, isn’t recommending one course over another, isn’t even inviting me to discuss my thoughts on the idea. He’s trusting that I’ve done my due diligence, know my own heart, and have made my own decision. Most importantly, he’s trusting that I’ve made the right one.
“Yes, that’s what I suggested to Violet already. I was hoping to ask for your permission, but it seems like Mom’s already on board and volunteered the house.”
“And the wait?” Dad follows up.
I smile. “We did things all out of order. We fought first, got engaged, moved in with each other, fell in love, and got married. We never really dated. I’m looking forward to doing that with Vi.”
Mom’s smile is wry. “Is it really dating if you’re already living together?”
I chuckle. “Well, it didn’t make sense for her to move out because she’s already my wife.”
Yeah, there’s that. We decided to stay married and not seek an annulment. We know what was in our hearts as we walked down that aisle, and that’s what matters. When we’re ready, we’ll do it again, and it will mean just as much. A continuation of our marriage vows, a renewal of our commitment, and another date for me to remember.
Abi threatened to tie me down and have both dates tattooed on my ass so I’d never forget. I think she’s still worried that I’m going to fuck this up and ruin her relationship with her best friend. But I’m not that asshole I was in high school, not the cocky bastard I was just a few long weeks ago. And that’s mostly because of Violet. Okay, and Abi and Court, though I won’t ever tell them how much I appreciate the kick in the ass. And Dad too, but I did tell him that in one of those clumsy conversations.
Dad jokes back, “Okay, so you’re living together. Does it make sense to date your wife?”
Mom answers for me. “Yes, Morgan. Yes, it does.”
“Oops, walked right into that one. Sorry, dear. Maybe we could go to that restaurant you like this weekend? The one with all the spicy food that gives me heartburn?” He smiles, and I laugh as I figure out where I got my slick moves with the ladies . . . like flirting by putting frogs down their shirts.
She nods, committing him to a weekend of antacids, and I come in like any good wingman, pulling a distraction. “How’re things at the office?”
He sighs gratefully. “Actually, Ross, I wanted to talk with you about that. Any chance you’d like to come back and rejoin the board of directors? Not the VP role. I know you want to step away from that, and Courtney is thrilled to step up and take on more responsibilities. She’s already doing well with that. But the board position is less time-intensive, so you could do it and whatever else you decide to do.”
I think it over, but as I do, what comes to my mind isn’t the prestige of being with the company. It’s the late nights, the hours that I’ve spent working, and how I’d much rather spend that time with Violet. My time at the company was never a nine to five.
“Dad, I’m not saying no . . . I’m saying I’m not sure I can give you an answer right now,” I admit. “The idea of being part of the family company is nice, but the idea of being with Violet and spending time with her is pretty damn nice too. And this would be something we need to discuss together.”
Dad purses his lips, disappointed but respectful. “I understand. It’s open to you any time you’d like to have it. What are you thinking you’re going to do?”
I appreciate that there’s no pressure, no dr
ive to get out there and make something of myself right this minute. “I’m still discussing it with Kaede. There’s a part of me that wants to see if I can do what you did, build something of my own too. You taught me a lot, and I think it’s time I put all those hours at your side to good use. If you or Courtney ever need me at Andrews, I’ll be there, but I’m looking forward to a new challenge.”
He smiles proudly and nods. “I’m sure you’ll do whatever you put your mind to, Son.”
* * *
The warm evening’s perfect for dinner as we light up the patio and set everything up for dinner. While I wish Marissa, Estella, and Vanessa could join us, along with the rest of Violet’s family, they all had to leave town and return to their own lives. Apparently, the triplets’ performance at our reception earned them some positive notoriety, and there’s talk of their doing some recordings when they’re on break from school. That was a silver lining to that particular dark cloud, at least.
“Good news, everyone,” I report as we settle in and Nana starts passing around a huge tray of lasagna. “I got a call from Colin Radcliffe’s lawyer. He’s agreed to drop his suit if Abi and Violet are willing to drop the lawsuit over his recording on private property. Seems they got a rather threatening call from someone at Andrews?”
Courtney smiles like she’s some sweet, innocent thing, but I know it was her. It was a stroke of genius, and all Courtney’s idea, but a little bit of research by our lawyer found that Colin violated quite a few laws with recording Abi and Violet’s conversation. It seems video recording on private property without the owner’s permission is a huge no-no, and partner that with the audio recording, which is a separate offense, and Colin was looking at potential jail time. That was before we tacked on the civil suit with solid cases against Colin for defamation and trespassing at the wedding and reception with ill intentions.
Around the table, my news is greeted with smiles, except from Aunt Sofia. “I would have liked to have had a few minutes with that . . . excuse me, I must watch my tongue,” she says, her lips pinching shut. “Father O’Flannigan says I inspired him to learn a little Italian, and I already owe him enough Hail Marys as it is. He’s learning a new language. I’m learning to bite my tongue.” She holds her hands up to the sky. “Dio Mio!”
My Big Fat Fake Wedding Page 34