by Kally Ash
“Oh, Natasha, you look wonderful.”
She peered into the hallway, wondering what she was doing there. “Thanks, Mom. What are you... what are you doing here? If you’re here to talk me out of quitting my job, you’re wasting your breath.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she replied, her eyes downcast. Like she was ashamed. “May I come in?”
Behind her, Vee said, “Oh, hi, Mrs. Fraser. Come in and have a glass of champagne with us.”
Natasha stepped to the side, watching as her mother slowly walked in. She approached Evangeline and grasped her hands.
“You look wonderful. Truly beautiful, Evangeline.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fraser,” Vee replied somewhat bashfully.
What in the ninth circle of hell is going on today?
“Did someone say champagne?” Natasha said loudly, walking over to the small buffet that had been set up in the corner of the room. There was a bottle of Cristal chilling in an ice bucket and Natasha stripped the bottle of its modesty and poured out three glasses.
When she turned back around, her mother was seated on the love seat in front of the fire, her legs crossed at the ankle. She was wearing a peach skirt suit that highlighted her slim waist. Natasha gave Vee her glass before taking her mother her drink.
A heavy silence fell and Natasha glanced at Vee, looking for guidance. Her friend only shrugged.
“If you two will excuse me? I have to make a phone call,” Evangeline announced, practically running into the bedroom and shutting the door.
Natasha stared after her before clearing her throat and turning back to find her mother staring at her. Uncomfortable. So fucking uncomfortable.
“You look nice,” she said, quickly chasing the lame comment up with a gulp of champagne.
“Thank you,” her mother replied.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then her mother said two words Natasha had longed to hear.
“I’m sorry.”
Natasha’s brows rose, but she didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry for the way your father spoke to you.”
“You can’t apologize for something he’s done, Mom. That’s not how it works. He’s not a child.”
She grimaced, but her face smoothed out a moment later. “You’re right. I can’t apologize for him, but I can tell you how proud I am of you.”
Natasha forced the mouthful of champagne down her throat, unwilling to spray her darling mother with it. To say she was shocked would be an understatement.
“I’m sorry?” she croaked.
“I’m proud of you, Natasha. I’m just... so proud.”
Okay, her mother had just choked up. Her mother never choked up. Sliding into the seat beside her mother, she twisted her body so they were facing each other.
“Why? You always supported Dad. Always. How could you be proud of me now that I’ve stood up to him?”
She began to shake her head. “I never supported your father in these attacks on your career and your personality. Never.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure you did. You never stood up for me. You just averted your eyes and got busy ignoring whatever dressing down he was giving me that day.”
With her free hand, her mother reached out and touched her knee. “Oh, no, darling. I wasn’t ignoring what he was doing. I was protesting his treatment of you.” Leaning forward, she placed her champagne flute down onto the low table in front of them. “Your father and I have been arguing about the way he treats you for a very long time.”
“Arguing?”
Jesus, why was she just asking more questions and blinking dumbly like a cow? Oh, that’s right, because her mother was pulling the rug out from under her feet so gracefully.
“Your father has a rather strange way of looking at things. I’m not going to go into details—that’s his responsibility—but I wanted to tell you that I’m so happy you’ve decided to go with your heart and follow something you’re passionate about. And if you’d like to tell me, I’d love to know about this orphanage you’re working with.”
Natasha was still stunned, but her mouth and brain seemed to be working in tandem because she started telling her about the orphanage and the extension, the projects and programs she wanted to establish.
“That’s wonderful, my darling, but how did you ever get involved with them in the first place?”
She shrugged, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “It was almost three years ago. I’d been driving past the place for a few months for a client, and one day, I just stopped and went in.” Looking down at the bubbles flirting with the side of her glass, she murmured, “I don’t know how else to explain it. I guess I just felt compelled. I met the Mother Superior and she was so passionate about her work and the lives she was responsible for. I just became inspired by her.”
She looked at her mother to find her nodding. Encouraged by that, she continued, “I met the kids. And I felt... accepted for the first time in my life. I was just accepted—not because I was a lawyer or because I was wealthy. They accepted me because I listened to them and spent time with them.”
Her mom’s expression suddenly shut down and Natasha braced herself for some kind of rebuke. Some scolding like she was five years old again and was trying to sneak a cookie from the jar right before dinner.
“I’m sorry I failed you.”
Wait. “What?”
“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t just be yourself around me. I never knew you felt so... alone. Those kids don’t have families, yet you found solidarity with them even though your father and I love you so very much.”
“I don’t know if Dad would say that,” she replied. “I doubt how he feels about me on an almost daily basis.” She exhaled sharply and figured she’d just put it all out there now that the conversation was rolling. “What’s he going to do? I’ve embarrassed him.”
Her mom shook her head. “You haven’t embarrassed him, sweetheart. He’s embarrassed himself and he’s licking his wounds right now.”
She frowned. “But what about my choice to quit law?”
Reaching out, her mother patted her knee once more. “That’s not your concern. That’s your father’s. He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it eventually.”
Carefully, Natasha placed her flute down on the table before hugging her mother for what felt like the first time in her adult life.
John shuffled his feet, his body clearly taking some of Beau’s nervous energy and transferring it into his legs. He was standing at the head of the aisle, Beau standing stiffly in front of him. Placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, he leaned in and whispered, “She’ll be here.”
“I know,” he replied on an exhale. “I’m just so fucking nervous.”
He laughed. “It’s probably only going to get worse... Sorry, that wasn’t helpful.”
He stepped back, glancing over his shoulder to find Max standing there. The guy smiled at him briefly before his eyes went to where his daughter and son were sitting with an older woman who must’ve been his mother.
The Redwood Cathedral was not even a quarter full, the friends and family of both Beau and Vee chatting quietly among themselves as the string quartet played a series of classical compositions, the notes soaring into the air above them.
John stood up a little straighter when there was a slight pause in the music, and then the song changed. John looked down the aisle then, farther off into the background. From around a giant redwood, Natasha appeared. Dressed in a skin-tight green gown, her red hair was up off her shoulders, her slender neck exposed. She had her hands held in front of her, a bouquet of white roses clutched in her fingers. When her eyes met his, a smile appeared on her lips, a slight tilt up in that secret way of hers. She looked fucking fantastic and he couldn’t wait to get that dress off her after the reception.
Her hips swayed as she moved closer and she threw him a wink as she took her space at the top of the aisle. John was briefly aware that
Gianna was coming down the aisle now and she stopped and waved at her little family unit as she passed.
And then there was a collective hush as Evangeline appeared. Everyone turned in their seats to look at her, but John’s gaze went to Beau. The guy’s shoulders eased suddenly, like he’d been made of ice until Vee’s appearance made him thaw.
Vee glided up the aisle, her eyes fixed on Beau as they should’ve been. When she finally made it to him, John heard him say she looked beautiful.
John looked over their heads though, finding Natasha’s eyes on him. Jesus, he could get used to her expression right now. She was blooming in front of him, her eyes skimming over his face like she was trying to memorize it.
He barely listened as the celebrant ran through the service that tied his best friend to the great love of his life. He barely even noticed when the guests clapped and Beau and Vee sauntered off down the aisle, their hands clasped, their heads turned toward each other.
Max clapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, man, I have to go and see my wife.” He brushed past John and scooped Gigi up in his arms, kissing her thoroughly. Which just left John and Natasha. She walked toward him, her hips swinging slightly like they’d done before.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer.
“You look fantastic,” she told him.
“And you’re beautiful,” he replied. He leaned forward and captured her lips with his. “Stunning. Breathtaking. Gorgeous.”
She threw her head back and laughed, the sound of it making his heart soar.
“When can I get you naked again?” he asked quietly.
“We have to get photos taken and then we have the reception,” she told him. “But we could probably duck away for a quickie right now.”
John groaned, glad his erection was being hidden by Natasha’s thigh. Surreptitiously, he looked around, spying a stand of trees that would give them some cover. He took her hand and pulled her in that direction.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Speaking over his shoulder, he said, “You said we had time. I’ll admit, it’s not going to be enough time to get your naked, but it’s a start.”
Natasha dragged him to a stop. “John, I love your enthusiasm—”
“I thought you loved my cock,” he cut in.
“I love that too,” she replied with a kiss. “But this is Vee and Beau’s day. We should be there for them.”
He placed her hand on his straining erection. “You wouldn’t be so cruel as to let me suffer.”
Her fingers tightened, making him suck in a breath. Yeah, he was totally acting like a punk-ass teenager, but he wanted Natasha more than he wanted his next breath.
“You’re a cruel woman.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” she said with a wink, stepping closer to place a kiss on his cheek. Gesturing to his hips, she said, “You need to put that thing away. You have best-man duties to attend to.”
Twenty-Nine
Natasha and John couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Bucking the trend of the usual arrangements for the bridal party, they’d sat together, as had Gianna and Max. Where they placed their asses wasn’t a concern anyway. All that mattered was that her best friend, stone-cold-bitch Evangeline Webster, was sickeningly happy as she sat next to her new husband.
It could almost bring a tear to her eye.
Almost.
“When can we go?” John asked for the twentieth time, rimming her earlobe with his tongue. She shivered but refused to give in to the game they were playing. Trading erotic touches while in a room full of people was both exciting and cutting her self-control down to nothing. She needed him inside her soon; otherwise, she was liable to spontaneously combust.
Hell, she might even do that anyway.
“We have to wait until after the cake,” she hissed back, stifling a moan when he slid his hand up her thigh, inching ever closer to where she wanted his face to be buried later.
“But—” John stopped mid-sentence and pulled back. Natasha checked back into the room, seeing the shadow falling over their table.
“Father?” she asked. Gone was the meek girl who bent to her father’s rules. In her place was a woman who was unapologetic for what she’d done, said, and thought.
“Can I speak with you please, Natasha?” he asked softly.
Wow. He’d phrased it as a question rather than a command. Looking around him, she saw her mother nodding at her, motioning that she should just hear him out. Turning to John, she said, “I’ll be back in a moment. Okay? I love you.”
“I love you,” he replied without hesitation, and gee whiz, didn’t that get him some brownie points for not backing down under the hard stare of her father. Natasha stood up and walked around the end of the long table, following her father out the doors of the reception room and into a small salon that had a couple of sofas in it.
He sat down like he weighed a ton, but she remained standing. She waited for him to speak, to start round two off with a bang. All that was missing was the bell to signal the beginning of the fight.
Lifting his head, he looked at her—scrutinized her. Mentally, she braced for the tongue-lashing.
“I want to apologize to you.”
She blinked. Well... nope, she had not expected that.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, sitting on the adjacent sofa. She felt like if she got too close, he’d be liable to bolt. Frasers were not renowned for being comfortable with touching or emotions. She blamed it on their Scottish heritage.
“I’m so sorry for what I said to you, Natasha.” His head dropped and he rubbed at his face, almost as if he were crying. But that couldn’t be right. Her dad didn’t cry. Stoic was more his scene, and yet, when his shoulders began to shake, she knew it was true.
“It’s alright,” she said softly, feeling way out of her fucking league. “Please don’t... It’s okay.” Getting up from her seat, she eased beside her dad and awkwardly wrapped an arm over his shoulders.
Her father had always been this immovable force. As a kid, she’d seen him as not just a figurative rock, but a literal one—one that didn’t break when forced but broke whatever was trying to be forced upon him. Now though, she saw him with new eyes. She saw him for what he was. He was just a man trying to do the best he could.
They sat there for a good ten minutes—him just sobbing into his hands while she wondered whether she should go and get her mother. She was better at dealing with this sort of stuff. But then she thought about what her mother would’ve said.
You are a strong woman. You can tackle anything.
So far, she’d been doing a bang-up job on that front, but her father had always been her Achilles’ heel. She rubbed circles on his back, trying to soothe him. It apparently worked because his crying stopped and he blinked at her like he hadn’t realized it was her doing the soothing.
“You look just like your mother.”
Her hand stilled for a beat before she resumed the motion. She had a feeling they both needed it right now.
“Thank you,” she replied. “That’s quite possibly the highest compliment you’ve ever paid me.”
He sat back in the chair, composing himself, but as Natasha pulled her hand away, he grabbed it, held it.
“I want to explain myself to you.”
She glanced away, feeling the tears already burning the backs of her eyes. “You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” Squeezing her hand, he forced her to look at him. “I’ve done wrong by you and I can admit when I’m wrong. And I am.” He paused, looking off into the middle distance like he was trying to formulate the words he wanted to say. He finally heaved a sigh, then said, “You don’t remember much about your grandfather, do you?”
She shook her head. “He passed when I was little, but from what I remember, he was a nice enough man. He always brought me candy.”
“Well, when I was younger, he pushed me the way I pushed you growing up. He forced me to stretch beyond m
y limits, to learn, to become better than him. And I thrived. I didn’t just meet my goals, or his goals; I blew past them and rewrote my entire future.”
She nodded to show she was listening, but she’d already gotten the point.
“The reason I pushed you the way I did was that I knew you’d achieve greatness just as I did. Just like my father knew he could get more out of me.”
She nodded slowly. “I can see why you did it, Dad. Really I can.”
“I thought you were like me. I thought you needed that external pressure to make you perform, but I can see now that I was wrong. I just…” He flicked imaginary lint from his knee. “I thought you enjoyed law like I do. You and me, we’re so similar, Natasha.”
Letting out a slow breath, she was glad she was sitting down because she probably would’ve collapsed if she weren’t. She never saw herself as being similar to her dad—not in any way—but if she thought about it, really thought about it, she could see so many similarities. The drive. The passion. The innate desire to improve people’s lives in some way, even though her sojourn into litigation law had stripped that last element away.
“So, you won’t be pursuing a career in law anymore?” She shook her head. “You mentioned you had a job lined up already though, at the orphanage?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me a little bit more about it?”
“Mom didn’t tell you about our chat this morning?”
He shook his head, a small smile on his mouth. “Your mother isn’t talking to me right now.”
“Seriously?”
He shook his head, grim. “She’s always let me know when she’s unhappy with something I’ve done. I’m paying for it now, but she’ll come around. She always does. Enough about that though. You were telling me about your orphanage?”
Her orphanage. It certainly was starting to feel more like that. “Yes, the orphanage. It’s run by an elderly nun called Mother Catherine Marie. She’s firm but she’s passionate about every single one of the kids under her care. Unfortunately, more orphanages are closing down due to lack of funding, and Our Lady is getting the overflow, except…”