It's Only Temporary - The Complete Collection

by Megan Bryce

  He edged her toward the bedroom and she said, “Oh, God. Are you going to torture it out of me?”

  “Yes.”

  She dug in her heels. “Even if I was going to get married again, even if I was selfish enough to let you marry me, I grew up in a commune. My parents are hippies. The last joint-smoking, free-lovin’ hippies. You can’t tie yourself to that, even if you don’t want to be president.”

  “It’s no secret, Delia, that you and yours march to a different beat. But I do have a secret. One that guarantees I don’t ever want to be president. One that insures I couldn’t ever be.”

  “I know. Your mother’s father isn’t her father. Who cares?”

  He bent to her ear, whispering who his mother’s father was.

  She pulled back from him, her lips curled into a grimace, and she whispered, “That’s who your grandfather is? I thought I wouldn’t know who he was!”

  Jack smiled and tugged her all the way into the bedroom. “Rumored to be. Not even Mother really knows.”

  He kissed her and she leaned into him before she jerked back.

  “I can’t kiss you. You’re a… You’re a…”

  “Maybe. And illegitimate even if I am. It doesn’t count.”

  She chewed on her lip. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded, tucking her head under his chin. Illegitimate didn’t count. There would be opposition if he ever poked his head into politics. A certain family was fiercely loyal to the memory of its dead president.

  Diane Evans could think his maybe blood was an asset but he knew it wouldn’t be. It would be an insult and a challenge.

  Delia said softly, “You don’t look anything like him.”

  “Then maybe it’s just a story. Grandmother always liked to brag that she was a fast little number before fast was acceptable. You would have liked her.”

  “And she had your mother?”

  “She overreacts in the opposite direction. And, incidentally, she thinks you would make me a good wife.”

  Her face went blank in shock. Then, “Is that an insult? It kind of sounds like one.”

  “Is it an insult to say I would make you a good husband?”

  “To you or to me?”

  He laughed. “It’s not an insult to either of us. You would make me a good wife. I will make you a good husband.”

  He pushed in the door to the closet, showcasing the floor-to-ceiling shoes. Sparkly heels, leather boots, summery sandals.

  “I’ve given you my closet, Delia. I’ve inked your name into my skin. I know you’ll marry me.”

  She walked into the closet, her eyes wide and round, her mouth hanging. She whispered, “You do fight dirty.”

  She turned, her arms crossed, her jaw clenched. “You’re serious about this.”

  “I don’t know why it takes a shoe store and permanent disfiguration to get you to realize that, but yes.”

  “Because you think you love me. Because you think I love you.”

  “I don’t think you love me. I know it. Every time you look at me, you tell me. You’re telling me right now.”

  He looked at her jutted chin, the spark in her eyes. He saw the love she tried to hide.

  He saw the fear.

  He said, “Do you think the fault lies with me or with you?”

  “What fault? That I might love you, or that you’re delusional?”

  “No. Why you think I can’t love you back. Is it because you don’t think I can love like you do?”

  “Jack. Of course not.”

  “I never have before. I’ve never tried. Never wanted to try. Maybe I can’t.”

  Delia said, “You’ll be perfect at it. Like always.”

  He took a step toward her. “I’m not perfect. I’m a bit of an ass.”

  “You are.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re also a good liar.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You think you’ll love me better than I love you?”

  He held up his arms, the closet and his new tattoo his proof. “I’ll be perfect at loving you. And all you’ve got is you don’t think you’re good enough for me.”

  She didn’t like that. Didn’t like to think that she was a snob, and she huffed at him.

  He said, “If it doesn’t matter who my parents are then it doesn’t matter who yours are.”

  “And your mother really thinks I’d make you a good wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll have to ask her.”

  He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Go ahead.”

  She muttered, “Remind me not to play poker with you.”

  “It’s not a bluff. Go ahead and call her.”

  She looked down at the phone. A picture of her sleeping stared back at her.

  She murmured, “I am definitely suing you about this.”

  “Why? You’re wearing pants.”

  Her lips twitched and when she looked up, she said softly, “Am I always going to give you whatever you want?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll always make me work for it.”

  She took a step toward him. “Then I’ve got a new plan, Jack.”

  He didn’t know if he was going to like this new plan. He kept having to get her plans out of his way.

  She said, “I wanted enough. And now I realize enough is just not enough. I want it all. I want all of you.”

  “You already have all of me, Delia. All my attention. All my trust. All my love.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing. “I gave you a chance, John Fitzwilliam Cabot. You didn’t take it and now I’m never letting go.”

  “Then, we’re engaged.”

  She said flippantly, “It’s only temporary. I’ll marry you someday.”

  She looked at his arm. “I have to. I can’t let you go through life getting naked with other women with that on your arm. It would be embarrassing.”

  Jack’s heart stopped trying to choke him, his stomach settled. He said, making sure she knew what she was getting into, “You do know I am a corporate shill, right?”

  “And a Cabot. I know. I love you anyway.”

  He kissed her. “See, you’re perfect. Perfect for me.”

  And this time, she believed him.

  Megan BryceSome Like It Perfect

  Epilogue

  Five years later

  “Tell me again why you’re getting married now?” Justine rubbed her very pregnant belly, then buttoned another ten buttons up the back of Delia’s dress.

  Summer pushed Justine gently out of the way. “Sit down and make sure I don’t miss any.”

  Justine sat with a sigh, lifting her feet out of her shoes. This baby would be born any day now, her cankles told her so.

  Another boy, after a hard three years of trying. She’d wanted a sibling for Paul, Jr.

  They’d wanted a sibling for Paul, Jr.

  Paul because he’d grown up close to his sister; Justine because she’d grown up alone.

  Paulie, Jr. had come so easily. Too easily, too quickly. The second baby had been the hard work.

  But now they were going to have two boys, and all the shots, all the worry, all the heartache had been worth it.

  Justine couldn’t be happier. Any day now and she just wouldn’t be any happier.

  She said, “It’s been five years, Delia. Why are you getting married now when I’m about ready to pop?”

  “Why not? It’s time.”

  Justine looked at three-year-old William with his chocolate brown eyes fussing with the flower in his lapel and one-year-old Seraphina with her flyaway red curls, trying to eat the flower petals out of her basket. “It was time five years ago, three years ago, one year ago.”

  Delia shook her head, bending to take the petal out of her daughter’s mouth. “It’s time now. The fire has burned down to an ember. Our children have doused us with cold water. We’re steel. We’re not promising to love and cherish each other with this ceremony. We’re promising that we already do.”

  Summ
er poked her. “And?”

  “And Summer threatened that if I didn’t make an honest man of her brother soon, she’d tell her mother what those dragons on her ceiling were doing to each other. But mostly, it was just time.”

  Summer buttoned the final button, pulling the train out and gazing at the high-necked, intricately embroidered dress. “I can’t believe you let Mother pick out your dress.”

  “It means something to her. More than it would mean to me.”

  Justine knew Delia’s white dress was embroidered with flames licking at her feet, crawling up the dress. She couldn’t see them from here, but she knew they were there.

  Summer muttered, “I’m not letting her pick out my dress. And at least you didn’t let her put you in a veil.”

  “That was Jack. He said no veil, nothing in my hair.”

  “Delia, this is your wedding! You’ve got to have some say in it.”

  Delia smiled. “I already have everything I want. This ceremony is for everyone else.”

  Justine checked the clock, making sure that they were on schedule and sighing when she realized they were early. “And now we wait for thirty minutes. You’re welcome.”

  Delia laughed. “That’s why I put you in charge. But. We’re supposed to meet with the priest under the large oak tree before the ceremony.”

  Justine sucked in a breath. “We, who?”

  “The bridal party.”

  “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding!”

  Delia said, “Too late. He’s already seen the bride naked this morning.”

  Summer gagged. “Seriously. There are children present.”

  Delia tried not to smile. She said to Justine, “This is my part of the wedding. Underneath the tree, just us, and then I will happily put up with all this pomp and circumstance.”

  Justine closed her eyes and rubbed her belly. “Convenient how you forgot to tell me about this.”

  “Would you really have preferred to worry about it for months on end instead of the five minutes you’re going to get?”

  Justine would have preferred that they do this right, but she knew better. Delia didn’t do anything right.

  Justine held out her arms. “Help me out of this chair.”

  Summer and Delia each grabbed an arm and tugged gently, and Justine muttered, “You just had to get married when I am ten months pregnant.”

  “It was poor planning on my part. Next time I’ll schedule better.”

  “There had better not be a next time. For either of us.”

  Summer buttoned Delia’s train up so she could walk out on the grass and they trooped out the side door.

  Jack and Paul stood under the large oak tree. Jack smiled when Seraphina and William ran to him, and Paul kept a grip on Paulie Jr.’s hand.

  Karen, Steve, Little Princess and her two little brothers stood a little ways off grinning wildly.

  There was no priest waiting but Paul and Justine’s parents were all hurrying toward the tree.

  Justine looked around. “Did anyone tell your parents to come out here, Delia?”

  Delia shook her head, not stopping until she was next to Jack and sliding her arm around his waist.

  Everyone looked at Justine and smiled.

  Paul dropped to one knee, opening a square blue box, and Justine realized this moment under the tree wasn’t part of Delia’s wedding.

  “Would you marry me again, Justine? Would you say yes now that we’ve loved and fought and made ourselves into a family? Would you say yes now that I couldn’t live without you?”

  She looked down at the mother’s ring inside the box, or perhaps it should be called a family ring since there were four stones. Pink, light green, red, dark green. One stone for every member of their family, born and unborn.

  Tears flooded her eyes and her mother pulled a Kleenex out of her purse, sliding it into Justine’s hand.

  Justine sniffed. “How could you do this to a pregnant woman? I’m never going to be able to fix my makeup.”

  Paul said, “She’s my pregnant woman and she deserves to be swept off her feet.”

  She laughed, her heart nearly bursting, and she nodded. Of course she would marry him.

  He stood up and she hugged him as best she could, leaning her forehead against him. He cupped her heavy belly, lifting gently, and she breathed in relief as the weight was taken from her. She took another deep breath, wiping under her eyes.

  The birds in the tree started singing. The sun broke free from a cloud.

  Justine said, “Oh, Paul. I’d marry you again and again.”

  He smiled down at her and she thought she didn’t ever want to live without him.

  She glanced at Delia and Jack. “But, we’re on a deadline.”

  Paul grinned, kissing her hand and waving the priest over.

  They renewed their vows under the tree, their families watching. And even though Justine knew a vow renewal was the kiss of death for most marriages, it wouldn’t be for this one. She looked at her husband and her son, felt the new ring on her finger and the child inside her, and knew. It had been decided.

  When the priest announced them husband and wife, again, everyone clapped, crowding around and congratulating them.

  Justine lasted five minutes, then pointed to Jack and Delia and said, “Now can we get these two married?”

  Delia said, “Can’t we do it out here?”

  Justine pried her off Jack and marched her back to the church.

  Delia said over her shoulder, “See you in five minutes,” and Jack grinned.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Summer herded the children back inside and Justine checked one more time that the rings were in William’s vest pocket. She pulled a leaf out of Delia’s hair and one out of Seraphina’s mouth.

  She nodded to the priest and when he’d made his way to the front, she nodded to Summer.

  Summer bent down to William and Seraphina. “We’re going to walk to your Daddy now, just like we practiced.”

  William nodded and Seraphina threw a petal at her aunt.

  Summer grinned. “Yep. Just like that.”

  Summer followed them down the aisle, smiling and laughing, directing them towards their father when they forgot.

  Delia’s parents were flanking the door on each side, ready to escort their daughter down the aisle and Justine checked one more time that Delia looked perfect.

  Justine said softly, “Is any part of this wedding yours?”

  “It’s all mine, Justine. It’s perfect.”

  Justine nodded, wiping her eyes one last time, then waddled down the aisle.

  Paul sat in the front pew, Paulie Jr. in his arms even though he was getting too big, and when Justine came to them she stopped instead of continuing on to stand with Summer and the children. It was where Justine belonged. With her husband and her son.

  And, Delia had told Justine weeks ago that if she gave birth during the wedding there would be retribution. It would involve a mean-looking needle and a tattoo, and Justine had decided the matron of honor didn’t have to stand in front with the wedding party.

  Paul brought Justine’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it. She smiled at him, then turned to watch Delia walk down the aisle, her hair floating around her head, wild and untamed.

  Delia’s mom on one arm, her dad on the other, their long hair braided with flowers. They escorted her to the front and then went to stand next to Jack’s mother. She was standing next to a distinguished gentleman and looking pleased.

  Jack picked Seraphina up, taking a flower out of her mouth, and clasped William’s hand.

  When the organ finished its march, William said into the silence, “Mama is pretty.”

  The congregation chuckled, the women dabbing at their eyes.

  Jack said, “Yes, she is.”

  Delia took William’s free hand in one of hers and found Jack’s hand underneath the folds of Seraphina’s dress with the other.

 
; Jack smiled at Delia, his eyes only for her. His face still beyond beautiful, but now a little older, the lines around his eyes and mouth deep, as if he’d spent the last five years laughing.

  Jack repeated the priest, saying his vows slowly and finally sliding his ring onto Delia’s finger.

  Delia sighed, smiling up at him, clearly still in love with him. Forever. Unbreakable.

  She said, “I, Delia Wildfire Woodson, take you, John Fitzwilliam Cabot, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

  She slid the ring onto his finger.

  And then she snickered, “Fitzwilliam.”

  * * *

  About Some Like It Hopeless

  In love with her gay best friend since forever, Cassandra Spencer has accepted that not everyone can have the fairy tale. Not everyone can have marriage and children and the same last name. But she has Shane, and she loves him and he loves her… Until he falls in love with someone else. Someone nothing like Cassandra; someone she can never accept.

  Brady Roberts destroyed his whole world, and there will be no forgiveness. No end to his guilt and pain. He exists day to day until he tangles with a woman who just won’t let him. A woman who believes that life is meant to be lived, no matter how hard it is. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how hopeless. Because sometimes, hopeless doesn’t have to mean alone. And sometimes, hopeless isn’t the end.

  Table of Contents

  About

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Epilogue

  For Vicki-

  You were a good and true friend

  when a friend was needed most.

  If there weren’t peppermint patties and

  homemade Baileys in heaven before,