by Quinn, Cari
“Sick with worry?” She brushed his long dark hair out of his eyes. “Really? And what bears?”
But he wasn’t finished. “She was right to walk out on me though, because I was an ass—assorted names she could call me, and probably will later. I’ll take them. I shouldn’t have offered her sister money, even if I didn’t think the bill would ever come due. I shouldn’t have planned a wedding without talking to her first and getting her input, but see, the thing is, I just want to be married to her so damn bad that I don’t want to wait another hour, never mind another day.”
“Gray,” she warned, sniffling. “I have cried enough today. I am not getting married with red eyes.”
He glanced up at her. “You still want to marry me?”
“Are you fucking stupid?”
His lips quirked. “At times, yes. As yesterday and today have proven without a doubt.” He lowered his head and kissed her belly button. “But I love you with everything I am and everything I hope to be, and I gotta hope that’s enough.”
“It is. More than.” She smiled mistily and covered his hands with hers. “I shouldn’t have walked out on you. I should’ve talked it out.”
“You should have. And if you do that again, there will be punishments.” His smile turned naughty. “I have a whole brown bag of things to torment you with now.”
“Hmm.” She pretended to think. “And I’m supposed to want to be good, right?”
“Whether you’re good or bad, I’ll always be waiting for you to come home.”
That right there was everything. He was her home, and she was his, and together they’d build one for their child. Nothing could be better than that.
Grinning, she squeezed his fingers. “Let’s go get married.”
Nine
This was it.
Gray waited at the end of the makeshift aisle at the top of a hill in Bridges Park with his best man, who had ended up being Simon when they’d drawn straws. He didn’t have a best male friend, and Simon, Nick and Deacon all qualified as good ones.
Some might wonder how a friendship had occurred between him and Nick, and he wasn’t even sure himself, but he was just as happy it had ended up being Simon. Having Jazz next to him and Nick would be just too weird. And Deak…well, Deak was needed elsewhere.
Nick and Molly and Sin from Rebel Rage—who just happened to be in the area for a solo club show—sat off to the side up front, just in front of the scattered folding chairs. They were tasked with the musical accompaniment, since Gray, Simon and Deak were a little busy at the moment. So far Nick and Sin seemed to be doing the bulk of the playing, while Molly looked back and forth between them with starry eyes. Gray had yet to see her do more than pick a few notes, but she held her instrument like she was used to it and had an ease that spoke of some practice. The ability part remained to be seen.
His parents and Lila sat in the front row, along with a few assorted gawkers Jazz had made friends with upon arriving at the park. Gray smiled. Nothing new there. Father Freeley’s niece was also sitting up front, excitedly bouncing in her chair. Gray hoped the priest didn’t freak out when he saw the Simon’s Skanks shirt. There hadn’t been a lot of time for adjustments.
Evidently there had still been enough time to attract the attention of the paparazzi. At least one or two of the spectators had whipped out a notebook or camera, and Gray had seen a chopper overhead a little while ago that had made Lila shake her fist. All in all, they weren’t being bothered. If Oblivion continued its rise, they wouldn’t get off this scot-free in the future, but he only intended to get married once.
Gray glanced at Simon, who kept pulling at his collar and generally looking uncomfortable. Gray, on the other hand, couldn’t have been calmer. It was a perfect San Francisco day without a cloud in the sky. Father Freeley had been right. From the park, you could see the Golden Gate Bridge and the bay. From this high up, it sparkled as if diamonds had been tossed upon its surface.
For a quickly thrown together wedding, it was pretty damn nice. Nick had produced a Spanish guitar to “add some flavor” to the music and everyone was dressed to the nines—including him, because thank God, Lila had thought of tuxes. Simon had the wedding bands, which weren’t exactly what he’d chosen due to the supposed sizing issue but they were close.
So far, so freaking good.
“Aren’t you supposed to be walking Harper down the aisle?” he said under his breath to Simon.
He shook his head rapidly. “Nope. I’m not walking anyone down any aisles anytime soon. Bad mojo. Besides, Harp has been spoken for.”
“What’s that supposed to—”
The woman in question appeared at the other end of the aisle and snapped her fingers in Nick’s general direction. “Wedding march, please.”
He saluted her and started playing, followed swiftly by Molly and Sin. And Molly actually was playing. Gray watched her fingerwork for a moment, impressed in spite of himself. She wasn’t phoning it in. Nice to know the girl didn’t blow smoke about everything.
A hush fell over the very small crowd and he glanced toward the aisle as a beaming Father Freeley joined them up front. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he said to Gray.
“Oh, I’m breathing just fine.”
“Fucker’s not even nervous. That’s not right.” Apparently realizing he’d just sworn in front of a man of the cloth, Simon blessed himself. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” Father Freeley patted each of their arms. “If a man can’t swear at a time like this, when can he? Though I do think you might rethink your breathing assertion once you see your beautiful bride.” He winked at Gray.
Gray swallowed thickly. Your beautiful bride. She was finally his. After all the missed signals and the arguments and the times when they’d been so far apart he hadn’t believed they would ever be able to close the gap, he was going to marry Jazz in front of the people who mattered most.
If that wasn’t a miracle, he didn’t know what was.
Deacon and Harper appeared arm-in-arm at the other end of the aisle, smiling at each other before they let go of each other to extend their arms behind them. Jazz appeared from the back and stepped between them, wearing a shoulderless cream dress with a lacy bottom and clutching a bouquet of wildflowers. Their gazes met, locked. She smiled, her joy evident even from a dozen feet away. Her lips moved and he knew exactly what she was mouthing to him because he felt the echo down to his soles.
Love you.
Grinning broadly, Harp and Deak both slid an arm around her waist and the three headed up the aisle as one. Jazz had not one person to give her away, but two, and they were two of the people she loved most in the world.
With Jazz’s first step, Gray’s breath faltered. With her second, his heartbeat stalled out completely. God, Father Freeley must be psychic, because his chest seized like he was having a cardiac event. Not from nerves. Hell no. From absolute anticipation that this gorgeous, perfect, completely exasperating woman truly wanted to be with him.
Forever. Finally.
As she approached, the more details he saw. She was barefoot and had flowers braided into her hair. If she wore any makeup, it was too subtle to be detected. And when she moved, the dress clung just slightly to her rounded belly.
Love slammed into him hard enough to nearly knock him off his feet, and still, he couldn’t drag his gaze from hers.
When the three of them reached their version of the altar, Deak took her hand and placed it in Gray’s. He curled his fingers around hers and lifted them to his mouth, unsure if he’d be able to get out the vows they’d written on their way to the park. And even if he did manage to speak, he was almost certain he’d never remember a single word while lost in her wild blue eyes.
“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today to unite Grayson and Jasmine in holy matrimony.”
“Or unholy,” Simon said with a quick glance at Jazz’s belly before blinking innocently.
Gray grinned and tightened his hold on Jazz’s hand. Holy
or unholy, any kind of matrimony sounded just fine.
Father Freeley continued through the ceremony, and Gray found his attention wandering to the warmth of her pressed up against his side. To her fingers securely nestled in his. To the way her lips twitched before she recited her vows to him and how her eyes filled up when he said his to her. He accidentally forgot a whole line and she just stared blankly when the priest first asked her if she said “I do,” thereby nearly giving Gray a heart attack, but aside from those few stumbles, the ceremony went off without a hitch.
Until Father pronounced them man and wife.
Jazz tapped him hesitantly on the arm. “Sorry, Father, but can you say husband and wife instead? If he’s still a man, I’m still a woman.”
Simon swallowed a laugh but Gray only grinned. That was his woman, all right.
“As you wish, Miss Jasmine,” the priest said, smiling. “You are now husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Gray had his hands in her hair and his mouth on hers before Father had even finished speaking.
She laughed against his lips and clutched his lapels, crushing the flowers between them as she kissed him back to the sounds of hooting and hollering in the background. “This is real,” she whispered between kisses. One might’ve been traditional, but it definitely didn’t seem like enough.
“Oh yeah, this is fucking real,” Gray said, kissing her again before she could admonish him for cursing.
They were married. Finally.
* * *
Not quite twenty-four hours into married life, Jazz had to say it rocked.
Every day wouldn’t start like today had, obviously. She wouldn’t wake up in the penthouse suite next to her naked new husband—okay, so technically, she hadn’t awakened next to him, because he’d been between her legs, mouth working hard. But close enough.
She wouldn’t get to make love every day while sunshine glittered on the bay just outside her window and Gray licked her from top to bottom then started all over again. A hot breakfast of bacon, eggs and wheat toast wouldn’t be waiting for her every morning. Nor would she probably ever find a silver bullet vibrator beside her plate instead of a rose again.
That had been a nice touch, she had to admit.
But right now, married life meant four orgasms before getting dressed. And that seemed like an auspicious beginning indeed.
“I’m hungry. Can we stop soon?”
“Jesus, woman, I don’t want to get off the freeway yet. We’re making good time.”
“We’re making good time because you’re trying to starve us to death.” Jazz glanced back between the seats and looked to Molly for confirmation. Her sister looked more than a little uncomfortable wedged in the back of their small sedan with her guitar and the giant cream-colored bear Jazz had named Bret Michaels, much to Gray’s displeasure. But the bear and Bret had exactly the same mouth. “Tell him you’re hungry.”
“I’m hungry,” Molly said dutifully without looking up from her phone.
“See?” Jazz said to Gray, slumping back into her seat. “You’re outvoted.”
“Once Dylan’s born, you won’t be able to outnumber me anymore,” he said, signaling for the exit.
“Oh, about that.” Jazz cleared her throat. “It’s probably good that you’re pulling into a rest area now, because you’re going to have to reprogram the GPS.”
Gray shot her a suspicious glance. He’d forgotten his shaving kit so he was sporting some sexy scruff that would’ve earned him a roadside quickie had they not had company. “Why?”
Jazz waited until he’d parked at the rest stop before shifting toward him with a bright smile. “Turns out Molly isn’t going back to San Jose. She’s coming to live with us. Isn’t that fabulous?”
He stared at her for so long that she began to wonder if he’d gone into a catatonic state. “Yo, Duffy.” She waved a hand in front of his face, but he didn’t even blink. “You in there?”
“What do you mean, coming to live with us? We don’t have our own place. We share a bedroom with a guinea pig and a kitten and if we don’t find a house, we’ll be sharing it with a baby.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Where are we supposed to stick her?”
“I don’t take up much room,” Molly offered helpfully. “I can totally sleep in a queen bed if that helps.”
“Oh, can you? That would be such a sacrifice on your part. Especially considering that Jazz and I are only in a queen ourselves due to space.” Gray glanced back at Jazz. “Look, I know it’s probably most men’s wet dream to share a bed with two sisters, but it’s not mine. If that’s what’s going down, you two take the bed and I’ll sleep in the living room.”
“He didn’t say no,” Jazz said to Molly, giving her a thumbs up.
“He absolutely did not. Thank you,” Molly squealed, rocketing forward to wrap her arms around Gray and the driver’s seat. “You’re the best.”
“What part of that sounded like an agreement to you? Either of you,” he said, glancing between them. “I just said I’d be forced onto the sofa and for fuck’s sake, I just got married. Can we wait to boot me out into the living room for at least a month?”
“There, there, sweetie.” Jazz patted his arm. “No one’s booting you anywhere.”
“Yet,” Molly added darkly from the backseat, causing Jazz to laugh.
“Am I supposed to find this funny? Any of this? How can you just spring this on me without taking my opinion into account?”
“Hmm. That’s a good question.” Jazz tapped her nails against her lips. “It would take brass balls to cut your partner out of the decision-making process of a major decision. I can’t imagine who would do that.” She looked to Molly. “Can you?”
Molly shook her head solemnly. “No. I really can’t.”
“I knew it. This is payback, isn’t it?” He dropped his head back against the seat. “You’re teaching me a lesson.”
“No, not really, but if thinking that gets you to say yes faster, then yes, yes, I am.”
“Is it too late to file for divorce?” he asked tiredly.
A couple of months ago, a question like that—even a teasing one—would’ve made her stomach sink to her feet. Now she only smiled sunnily. “Afraid so.” She lifted her hand and tapped her wedding ring. “This here says you’re stuck with me and Bret Michaels for the duration.”
“And your sister. Don’t forget your sister.”
“It’s just for a little while, I promise. I’ll just crash at your place until I find somewhere to stay on my own.”
“What, with some lowlife loser?”
“Gray,” Jazz said, rubbing his thigh. He was tense enough to snap the wheel in half. “She’s not looking to hook up with any guys. Tell him, Mol.”
“No.” Molly lifted her chin proudly. “I’m practicing abstinence now.”
“Oh Christ Jesus.”
Jazz frowned and flicked his knee. “Seriously? Language.”
“Right. Tell me to watch my language, and you’re bringing a pot-smoking, underage-drinking trash talker into our bedroom. With. Our. Child,” he enunciated.
“Uh, your child isn’t born yet.”
“Close enough,” he snapped. “Close e-damn-nough.”
Jazz sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. To go along with her rumbling stomach, now she had to use the restroom. Desperately. Not that she dared leave these two snarling dogs on their own without a referee. “I already talked to the guys. Deak and Harper will be moving out anytime now. Once they do, Mol can have their bedroom. She’ll pay rent,” she added when Gray started to object. Strenuously. “She’ll sleep on the living room couch until Harp and Deak are gone, then she’ll be so quiet in her own space you won’t even realize she’s living there.”
“As a mouse,” Molly said.
“A mouse that pays her share of the rent, as well as buys groceries and pays part of the utilities.”
“Ok—”
“And goes to school,” he said, banging the st
eering wheel. “If you’re under my roof, you’re going to get an education. I got my Bachelor’s degree before I joined Oblivion, so don’t give me that ‘I’m in a band’ BS.”
Jazz gazed at him with a mixture of admiration and annoyance. He was going to make one hell of a father. She almost felt a little sorry for Dylan, because when it came to his daddy, that kid would be getting away with nothing.
“I have to get my GED first. I don’t have my diploma yet.”
“So then you take care of that first and then you enroll in college. No excuses. If you don’t believe in education, then you find somewhere else to live.”
“I don’t have a Bachelor’s degree, in case you’ve forgotten,” Jazz put in.
“Jasmine, now is not the time.”
She tried to hide her smile behind her hand as she looked out the window. He was so freaking adorable when he got like this.
“I’ll go to school,” Molly said in a small voice. “I promise.”
“And you’ll do well too.”
“I’m not stupid,” she said hotly. “I used to get all Bs and Cs.”
“Try As and Bs this time. There’s no free lunch. And you’ll babysit—” Even before he got the words out, he shook his head. “No. Scratch that. You will never babysit my child.”
“Our child,” Jazz reminded him. “And you don’t get to say that definitively.”
The way his mouth curled in horror might’ve been amusing under other circumstances. “You want Dylan to be smoking pot and drinking before kindergarten?”
“Really?” Jazz asked softly. “You’re really going to judge her about that stuff?”
Tightening his hands around the wheel, he stared out the windshield.
“I’m not a bad person. You just got the total wrong impression of me. I can do better.” Molly leaned forward, nearly knocking Bret Michaels sideways. “You’ll see.”
“You can and you will.” Gray looked up and met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Or you’re out. No second chances.”