Finally, I remembered Hello by Adele. That one was about apologizing years later, but it would do.
“How about the Hello song by Adele.”
She made a face. “I want to do the lovey song.”
Love Song. That was a better choice. Maisie was turning out to be a great wingman. “Love Song it is.” I put my guitar strap over my shoulder, and dropped to one knee so I was at Maisie’s level. I started strumming.
“She’s not here,” Maisie said putting her hand over the strings.
“We sing to get her to come out.”
“Really?” She laughed but shrugged, and appeared willing to go along with this game.
I strummed again, and nodded to Maisie to start the first lines that talked about feeling home again.
We were a few lines in when the door opened and Tessa’s mother peered out. She looked confused and then smirked.
“Tessa, it’s for you.”
She smiled, but waggled a finger at me like a warning to not fuck up with her daughter again. I wondered how much she knew about our marriage. Did she know about the baby?
Those questions disappeared as Tessa appeared in the doorway.
“There she is, Daddy, it worked,” Maisie said. “We’re s’narade you, Tessa.”
Tessa bit her lip, like she wasn’t sure what to make of us. I kept playing and singing until the end, finishing with the words that I’d always love her.
A tear ran down her cheek.
When I finished I stood up. “Maisie and I are here to take you home. If you’ll have us … as your family.”
She sniffed, but wasn’t rushing to us as I hoped she might. Why would she? I hadn’t groveled. I hadn’t even apologized.
“I’m sorry, Tessa. I was an ass—” Remembering Maisie was with me, I stopped. “I was afraid and a jerk to a woman who did nothing but love me and my child.”
“Come home with us, Tessa. Pahleeese?” Maisie clasped her hands over her heart in a begging gesture.
“Yes, Tessa. Pahleese.”
She walked down the steps, her gaze darting to either side of me. It was only then that I realized we had an audience of a few of her neighbors.
When she reached us, Maisie wrapped her arms around her legs. “Stay with us.”
Tessa smiled down on her, resting her hand on her head. She looked up at me. “Do you forgive me?”
“Yes. I don’t like that you kept the baby from me, but I understand it. I know my part in it, and I’m going to do my damnedest to be open and honest with you so you don’t have to feel you need to keep things from me.”
“You said you didn’t want—”
“I was wrong. I did want a family; I was just afraid. Truthfully, until you, Tessa, I didn’t believe I could have it. Now I want to be a real family with you and me and Maisie and the baby.”
“You have a baby in your tummy,” Maisie said. “I saw the picture.”
Tessa looked down at her. “You did?”
“I showed her her brother or sister,” I said, wishing she’d give me a solid yes or no. A yes, preferably. “So, will you come home with us?”
She smiled at Maisie and then at me. “Yes.”
Epilogue
Tessa––One Year Later
One year ago, I stood on the back deck and looked toward Dylan standing under a beautiful arbor and married him surrounded by my friends and family. Today, I stood in that same spot, seeing him look at me with emotion in his eyes as I walked toward him again. Friends and family looked on, but I didn’t see them. I only saw Dylan, holding our three-month-old son, Max, who Maisie named. Maisie stood next to Dylan, grinning and showing off her missing tooth.
Last year I entered into a marriage. Today I created a real family.
When Dylan and Maisie showed up on my parents’ doorstep last summer, I was afraid to hope that he’d come for me. Even with him serenading me in that sexy baritone voice, I worried I was dreaming. But then he said he forgave me. He told me he loved me and wanted to be a family and it was a dream come true.
Life wasn’t perfect after that, but it was pretty darn close. We fell back into our routine, except that now it seemed even better. Everything was happier, brighter, more fulfilling.
I put off school until after the baby. I’d be heading back to finish my last year this fall. Over the last year, all my time was focused on loving Dylan and the kids.
On Maisie’s first supervised visit after the court hearing, we learned that Veronica kicked Leo out of the house. She’d been smart about the prenup, which let her keep the fancy apartment and receive a good alimony since Leo had been the one to cheat. The relationship between Dylan and Veronica was still strained, but they both did a good job of keeping that from Maisie.
Maisie was a wonder during my pregnancy, and while she had a few jealous moments when Max came home, she was turning out to be a wonderful big sister.
On Valentine’s Day, just a few days before Max was born, Dylan serenaded me again to the band Train’s song, Marry Me.
“We’re already married,” I said, sighing at the lovely voice and words.
“For real this time. I want to say the vows in front of God and our friends and family and mean them.”
I started to cry, which I blamed partly on hormones, but mostly just because I was so overwhelmed with emotion.
“Yes. I will always marry you, Dylan.”
So here we were, joining our lives and hearts again, except this time it was for real. Because it was, Dylan insisted on making our own vows.
“Before I met you, Tessa, I’d given up on the idea of love. I didn’t believe in it or trust it. Even when you came into my life and loved me, I couldn’t let myself accept it. But now I know that all my life I’d been waiting for you. All those times I’d hoped to find someone to love me unconditionally, to accept my imperfections and see the man I could be even though I couldn’t see it, that someone was you, Tessa. Thank you for making my dream come true.”
There was an audible sigh from our guests. I wiped away a tear. He could be so wonderfully romantic. Now it was my turn to share what was in my heart.
“The minute I met you, my heart and soul were yours, and all I wanted was to love you. Thank you for letting me love you, and for loving me back. Right here, right now, with you and Maisie and Max, and our family and friends, this is all I need. I want to spend every day letting you know how much I love you. How much you deserve to be loved. How much I love our family and how you love us.”
This time when we kissed, it wasn’t for show; the groom kissing the bride. It was a man and a woman joining their lives into one.
“I love you, Tessa.” Every time he said it, from that first day on the walkway of my parents’ home, it made my heart turn cartwheels.
We had a little reception, but then we left Max with my parents and drove Maisie with us to Manhattan for a visit with her mother while we celebrated our marriage renewal. One good thing that came from our little family unit was that my parents took on the role of grandparents for Maisie, and Veronica supported that. As a result, whenever Maisie was with her mother in New York City, they’d always arrange to get together.
Like the first time, our honeymoon would be short, but that was mostly because I wasn’t ready to spend a week away from Max. Dylan had suggested a tropical honeymoon, but I wanted to go back to the hotel where we had our last one.
“I want to redo that day, only this time do it right.”
“Was it wrong the first time? Because I remember having a very orgasmic honeymoon,” Dylan joked.
“It wasn’t wrong, but this time I want to be able to tell you that I love you when I suck your dick.”
He was more than happy to oblige me. And this time, we did do it right. He carried me over the threshold, setting me down near the table with a bottle of champagne waiting. The couch was by the window, suggesting Dylan had called ahead to make arrangements.
“You spoil me,” I said when he handed me the flute of champag
ne.
“I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to ever question my love for you.”
“I am happy.”
“To happiness,” he said, raising his glass. I clinked mine with his and then drank my entire glass.
His brow rose. “Thirsty?”
I shook my head. “I want to show you something.” After my first wedding, the honeymoon was just for show. I hadn’t made plans to sleep with him, even though it had happened. This time, I came prepared. I reached back to unzip my dress, watching Dylan’s eyes darken as I pulled my arms from the sleeves and let the dress drop to the floor.
“Holy fuck.” Immediately, his dick made an impression on the front of his pants.
“Do you like it?” I looked down at the pretty lace push up bra with matching panties. But I knew that wasn’t what had him going. It was the garters and stockings.
I was right last year when I said that men were a slave to their primal nature. But I’d learned that while a lot could make a man erect, not all sex was the same. Joining two bodies in an act of love went beyond nature into something deeper.
His finger traced the edge of the stockings and then up the little garter belt. “I like it a lot. I think I just came in my pants.”
I looked at the significant bulge in his pants. “If you did, you’re hard again.” I reached out to undo his belt.
“Let me do it. Seriously, I could come in an instant.”
I smiled, feeling so sexually powerful and in love. I don’t know if it was me or being married to the sexiest man on earth, but I’d learned quickly after our reconciliation that I liked sex. A lot. I’d liked it before, but there was something about being totally open to him. To surrendering my pleasure to him, and his to me, that that had my sexual drive revving. Or maybe it was hormones from the pregnancy. I discounted that because the baby was already here, and I still wanted Dylan any way I could have him.
“How do you want me?” I asked.
He growled. “I don’t know. My brain doesn’t work.” He shucked his pants down and ripped his shirt buttons as he wrangled with his clothes to get them off.
“How about this way. We can both see the view out the window.” I turned toward the table with my back to him, pressing my backside toward him. I liked all the ways we made love, but one thing I really enjoyed was teasing him with ways he could have me. I liked exploring and trying new things. I had a copy of the Kama Sutra poses hidden in a drawer, and we regularly referred to it.
“That way is fine. Good for fast and furious, because that’s what this will be.”
I thought he’d take me right then, but instead, he dropped to his knees. “Lean over the table, baby, and spread your legs.”
I lay forward and widened my stance.
“You’re so wet.” His hands went to my panties.
“They pull away,” I said over my shoulder. “Otherwise they get stuck on the garters.”
“Fucking hell.” He inhaled deeply, which I imagined was to keep himself in control. He yanked on the panties and the sides gave way. I felt the cool air on my pussy making me ache.
“Dylan,” I moaned. “Make me come.”
He growled and pushed my thighs apart. His mouth and tongue dove in, sucking and thrusting and driving me mad. I gripped the table as he shot me up.
“Yes, yes,” I ground my pussy against his mouth. “Oh God, I’m going to come.”
He pinched my clit with his fingers as his tongue thrust inside me and entire body convulsed as my orgasm blasted through me.
I wasn’t finished coming down from the pleasure yet when Dylan stood behind me, his dick at my entrance. “You’re so fucking perfect, Tessa.”
I’d just had a hard orgasm, but I wanted more. I wanted him. “I need you in me, Dylan.”
He thrust, filling me and making me gasp. He didn’t take his time. He was thrusting and plunging, his breath harsh as he sought his own release.
“I can’t wait,” He ground out.
“Don’t wait.” I loved it when he was desperate and a bit crazed. I loved it when he was gentle and slow. I loved it all. I loved him.
“Ah, fuck …” He was pistoning in and out. I could feel every inch of him, growing and becoming more rigid with each stroke.
My body responded, squeezing his dick as my own pleasure built again.
He groaned, and stopped.
I whimpered. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He withdrew and turned me around. “I want to see you come.” He lifted me on the table, pushing my legs open, he pressed his hips forward and was inside me again.
His gaze was on mine as he began to move, this time not quite so furiously, but still in hard strokes that made me gasp each time he plunged in.
“Come on my cock, Tessa. I want to see you come … feel you come …” His jaw was tight, and I could see it was taking every bit of willpower he had to hold back.
I looked between us, watching as his dick slid in and out of my body. I held on to his shoulders, my gaze rising to the tattoo of Maisie and now Max on his chest. And just below it, Tessa. I lifted my head to his, catching his gaze.
“I love you,” I said, wanting him to know.
He captured my mouth with his lips, kissing me with same heat and fervor that he was loving me with his body.
He tore his mouth away and groaned. “Together, baby. Come with me.”
With our gazes holding, our bodies moved in the rhythm of love, in perfect sync. I reached the pinnacle and crested, crying out as my body gripped his like it never wanted to let go.
He yelled out and plunged in, his essence filling my body, becoming a part of me.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted as he continued to thrust and pulse inside me. Finally, he held me to him, my head resting over his heart where my name was inscribed. I heard and felt his heart beat just for me.
He lifted his head and gazed down on me. “You’re fucking awesome.”
I laughed. “Because I wear garters?”
“I was so taken I didn’t have a good chance to explore and enjoy those.”
“Next time.”
He grinned. “Give me a minute.” He kissed me, this time slowly, like he was savoring ever bit of my mouth. “You gave me something I thought I’d never have. You gave me you.”
Emotion swept over me. “And you gave me you.”
“And together, we made a family. I meant what I said in my vows. You gave me a family. You’ve made my dream come true.”
I held him close, feeling so grateful to have this wonderful man. The love I’d seen for his daughter was one of the first things that had made me fall for him. Now, the thing I loved most was the love and total commitment he had for his family.
Imperfect Love (Preview)
A Second Chance in Marriage Romance (Heart of Hope Book 4)
Description
A broken marriage.
A broken heart.
A broken home.
Brayden and I have everything going against us.
There was a time when we were madly in love.
Our laughter still echoes in my ears.
They say marriage is built on trust.
They said love is the foundation.
I wonder if we have either of those now.
And what’s worse?
I’ve been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness.
Divorce or death.
I have no clue what comes first.
But they both feel the same.
Brayden still has my heart.
And I have a feeling that he wants to keep it.
Will he fight for us and give our love a second chance?
Or is this the end of an era for our family?
Prologue
Terra
I wondered when my marriage went off the rails. As I sat on the edge of my bed, I experienced a rare moment of quiet and solitude in my home. I searched my brain for the moment the fairy tale ended. I couldn’t pinpoint a
n exact time. The busyness of life must have simply worn away at us until all that was left was resentment.
I should have known it wouldn’t last. I learned at eleven years old that life is a bitch and then you die. This lesson really sank in after I watched my mother battle cancer, only to lose in the end... She’d endured painful and debilitating treatment to save herself. She’d sacrificed any quality of life in the hopes that she’d live, but her fight was all for naught. She died anyway.
I wondered, if she would have made a different choice. Had she known she was going to die, no matter what, would she have sacrificed some time to be able to enjoy life more fully until the cancer took her? Would she have taken me for mother-daughter tea like we did once a month before she was too sick to walk? Would she have piled all the pillows on her bed and turned out all the lights to watch movies with me like we often did until her sight left her?
After she died, my father said we had to live life to the fullest, for her, and for the most part I had. But in my mind, I’d always been aware that love and happiness could be gone in an instant, and therefore seeking it, wishing for it, was dangerous.
It wasn’t until I’d met Brayden that I let love and laughter into my life again. From the moment I met him, I was his. For the first time since my mother had died, I wondered if maybe some part of the fairy tales I read as a child were real. But now, years later, I saw that I was wrong.
I sent the letter, from my lawyer, which I received today. I was in awe, in a bad way, of how quickly plans could change. I’d been considering walking away from the life we’d failed to build, but now that couldn’t happen.
I heard the front door open and the sound of my children’s voices as they scurried into the house. Tears welled in my eyes. I closed them, and listened like it was the last time I’d hear them.
“I want apples and peanut butter,” six-year old Lanie said.
“No peanut butter,” four-year old Noah whined.
So Wrong (Heart 0f Hope Book 3) Page 19