Them (her Book 3)

by Portia Moore

  I see Ian walking out too, camera in hand, and I blow him a playful kiss, posing sexily against the balcony railing as he rolls his eyes at me. He likes candid, natural shots, which makes me feel awkward, but I know he loves it. He shoots one picture, then another, and I can’t contain my excitement. “We’re here. We’re really here, Ian!” Just a little while ago, I was on an airplane for the first time. This is the furthest I’ve ever been from the Midwest, and I’m bubbling over with enthusiasm. “We have a fucking marriage license! Us!”

  “I know,” he says, his face serious, and I cross over to him, resting my head on his chest as I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “You’re okay?” he asks softly, hugging me, too.

  “I am,” I say, and I mean it. I don’t know how I am, or what changed, but I feel as if this is right. As if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be, even if it goes against all the carefully built walls I’ve crafted, all the logic I should be using. “That’s what’s so scary. I can’t think of a time where I’ve been okay like this. Not okay…happy. Truly and unquestionably happy. I’ve never been happier than when I’ve been with you.”

  He holds me tighter, his arms wrapping around me as if he plans to never let me go. And I don’t want him to.

  “Don’t screw it up,” I say playfully, but there’s seriousness beneath my words. I want to believe that he won’t. That we can live happily ever after. I need to believe it. If I get one thing right in my whole crazy, fucked up existence…I want it to be this.

  Shauna is sweet enough to help me get ready in the little room off of the chapel, after she and Devin have their ceremony. I bought a simple white dress for the occasion, a slip dress with spaghetti straps and a swooping neckline, that falls to my knees with a short slit up the side. As I step into it Shauna zips it up the back, and then she helps me with my hair, pinning it up in an elaborate twist that I never in a million years could have managed. She takes two white flowers from my grocery-store bouquet and slides them into my hair on one side, just behind my ear, and helps me touch up my makeup. When I turn towards the mirror, I don’t recognize myself.

  But what’s more, I don’t see Megan peeking out behind my eyes, don’t hear her voice in my head, trying to push forward and take back her life. This decision is mine—wholly mine—and it feels good.

  Maybe, just maybe I’ve made her happy, and she’ll let me be happy. After all, this is what she wants—love, a family—things I never thought I needed or would ever want. Since I started seeing Ian she’s been gone more. In this moment, I feel a peace and quietness that I’ve rarely had, and it only cements the decision that I made yesterday, when Ian asked me.

  I think of his hand in mine, as we watched Devin and Shauna take their brief vows, her eyes shining up into his. I think of the way he squeezed it, the happiness in his face when I said yes, and how sure he is. How since that first morning in the diner, neither of us have wanted anything but each other.

  I slip on my heels and clasp my bouquet, smiling nervously at Shauna as I walk past her and out to the thin carpeted aisle, where Ian waits for me at the end of it. I feel the smile on my face growing as I walk towards him, the nervousness fading to happiness and relief when I’m standing in front of him, ready to start our new life together.

  “You ready for this?” he asks, and I know he’s giving me one more chance to say no, one more chance to run. But I don’t want to. I want him, forever. No matter what happens.

  “More than anything,” I tell him, and before the vows can even start, he kisses me. I know then that it doesn’t matter what vows we say, or what words are spoken over us. Even as he pulls back, his eyes shining as they look into mine, and we repeat the words we’re told, I know there was no going back long before this. Nothing in the world can make me belong to him more than I already did.

  I’m his, for better or for worse. In sickness and in health.

  Forever.

  If only it didn’t feel like my forever comes with an expiration date.

  12

  Kam

  Tonight is the first night I’ll get to take Megan to one of my family’s functions on my arm, and I’m beyond elated. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, but I didn’t want to push her. I know crowds can make her uncomfortable and a lot of strangers make her nervous, and I didn’t want it to be all too much. But when I asked her two weeks ago, lying in bed after making love if she wanted to go, she enthusiastically said yes.

  I might have been cheating a little, asking her right after sex. She was looking up at me with those stars in her eyes that tell me that she’d do anything I asked, she loves me so much. And I feel the same way about her. Plus, Megan has been dying to find out more about my family’s foundation, and tonight will be her real introduction into the donor side of it—the functions and galas and schmoozing required to make all of the people who contribute feel special and important.

  She’s still in the bathroom getting ready. She’s been in there for almost two hours, and I’m on the verge of going in and making sure that she’s okay when she comes out and the sight of her takes my breath away.

  She’s wearing a deep emerald green evening gown, and the color of it brings out her sea-green eyes until they look impossibly bright. It’s strapless, and it nips in tightly around the waist, folds of it falling down one hip until it spreads out around her feet. She doesn’t have any jewelry on, and that reminds me of the thing that I wanted to give her tonight, a gift that I’ve been nervous about because I know Megan will think that it’s too much, but I want her to have it. I want to give her everything, and this is just the start of that.

  I walk over to her, digging in my suit jacket pocket, and Megan looks at me nervously. Even as anxious as she is, her eyes still drift over me with the hunger that I’ve gotten used to seeing—but will never get tired of. She loves it when I wear suits, and I’ve never gotten to see her this dressed up before. I love it. She looks like a princess, and I’m just fine with being her Prince Charming.

  I hand her a small black velvet box, and Megan eyes me warily before popping it open. “Kam, what is this…ohhh.”

  There’s a pair of small diamond studs inside. They’re nothing ostentatious, a half carat each—I know Megan wouldn’t want anything flashier. She bites her lip as she looks down at them, and then she meets my eyes.

  “Kam, you didn’t need to do this. It’s too much.”

  “It’s not nearly enough,” I tell her firmly. “But I know that you like simple things. So I chose those for you. They’re classic, will go with everything, and maybe one day you can give them to your daughter,” I say softly. “A family heirloom.”

  An expression that I don’t understand crosses Megan’s face—sadness that I didn’t expect to see there, a hint of longing…and something else—something that is almost anger her eyes momentarily darkening but it might just be the glint of tears.

  “They’re beautiful, Kam.” She laughs with just a hint of tears in her eyes as she pulls them out and starts to put them into her ears. “I thought for half a second it was going to be an engagement ring.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” I tell her, leaning forward to kiss her softly. Her arms slide around my neck, and I see the glitter of the diamonds in her ears as she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss me again, her tongue sliding into my mouth as she arches against me. “Careful,” I tell her, laughing. “Keep that up, and we’re going to be very late.”

  “We definitely can’t be late.” Megan pulls back, a little of the nervousness returning to her face. “Katie and Blue left an hour ago.”

  “The extra time was worth it,” I say, looking at her and letting all of the desire I feel show in my face. “You look stunning.”

  “Are you sure?” She toys with a curl that’s fallen loose from the updo that she’s pinned her hair into, and I smile at her, gently pushing it behind her ear and kissing her cheek.

  “Absolutely,” I promise, and then I take her hand and we head out to the waiting car
.

  Megan’s face is every inch Cinderella at the ball as we pull up to the venue. It’s being held at the nicest hotel in town, a massive Italianate building with stone steps and a red carpet draped over them for an extra touch. There’s a string band playing as we walk inside and guests dressed in their finest milling everywhere. Megan is doing her best to keep her jaw from dropping open, but I can tell it’s a struggle.

  “It’s alright,” I tell her, chuckling as I bend down to whisper in her ear. “It’s a lot to take in, your first time.”

  She looks around at the women in their designer gowns, their expensive jewelry, the flashy cocktail rings and diamond necklaces. Her hand goes to her own bare neckline, and she looks worried. “I got this dress from a department store,” she says anxiously. “I feel underdressed.”

  “You look better than any of them,” I tell her sincerely. “No one will be able to tell the difference. You look like yourself, and that’s the most important part.”

  We’ve arrived just before dinner is going to be served, and I lead her over to our table where my parents are already seated with Katie and Blue. Blue and my father look pretty much the same as I do—well-fitted black suits with sober ties, but Katie is beautiful standing out in an aquamarine gown that sets off her pale skin and platinum blonde hair, and my mother looks elegant and beautiful in her short-sleeved, long navy blue dress. My father is looking at her as if he’s seeing her for the first time all over again, and all I can think is that I hope I get to look at Megan that way in thirty years.

  “It’s so good to see you, Megan!” my mother says, hugging her enthusiastically. In no time, she and my parents are making small talk about the foundation while Katie and Blue chat with me, and I feel myself relax. This is exactly how I was hoping that the night would go. I’m incredibly proud of Megan—she’s making conversation as if she didn’t have any nerves at all, and as dinner begins to be served she easily remembers all of the ridiculous rules about silverware. She smiles over at me as she sips at her wine, and I can see that she’s actually starting to feel comfortable, which is exactly what I’d hoped for. I tend to like these events—the networking, talking to people and making contacts. I want her to be at my side for all of that, and I’m glad that that future doesn’t seem so far-fetched as it once did.

  Dinner is delicious—a creamy bisque followed by a salad of greens and goat cheese and vinaigrette, filet and scallops for the main course with au gratin potatoes. Megan picks at the food, but when she sees my mother and Katie eating she digs in a little more. The dessert is tiramisu, which happens to be Megan’s favorite, and after that the band picks up for the usual dancing that always follows dinner.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to dance, I’m stuffed,” Megan says as I lead her out to the floor, my hand gently on the small of her back as I pull her into my arms. “I might step on your toes,” she warns. “I haven’t really danced much. And by much I mean…well…pretty much never. Not like this.”

  “Just follow my lead,” I promise her.

  She lays her head on my chest during a slow song, her breath warm against my neck. “This is like a fairytale,” she says softly. “I feel like a princess at a ball.”

  “Just don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight,” I tease her.

  “I promise,” she whispers, but there’s that sadness in her voice again. I want to know why it’s there still, what it is that makes her feel this way sometimes, but I don’t want to ask tonight. I don’t want to ruin what is turning out to be a perfect night with questions about something that Megan clearly doesn’t want to talk about, or else she would have told me.

  I think back to the night of our anniversary, when George dropped the bombshell about Megan’s lookalike at that club, and her reaction when I questioned her. I think about my visit to the club, and I quickly push all of that out of my head.

  Whatever haunts Megan, she’ll tell me when she’s ready. It’s the refrain that’s kept me sane ever since then, the promise of honesty between us. I just can’t put a time frame on it. I can’t rush her. She’ll tell me about the rest of her past when she’s ready.

  I just hope it’s soon. Because I want to marry her, but I can’t with this thing hanging over our heads. I don’t want to start a marriage with secrets.

  Anyway, it’s been less than a year. My parents would kill me if they knew I was thinking about asking Megan to marry me already, especially with the future I have ahead of me. They’ll want me to be careful, and cautious, and pragmatic. I might already know that I want Megan for the rest of my life, but for them to truly welcome her in as a daughter-in-law and not just my girlfriend, they’ll expect me to give it time. Two, maybe three years..

  And Megan seems content to wait. I think about all of this as I spin her around the dance floor in my arms, and I can envision our future laid out in front of us.

  When the dancing is done, my father goes up to the stage to start the evening’s awards, and Megan and I go back to the table. “I’m just going to go freshen up,” she says, and I squeeze her hand, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

  “I see a few donors that are close to the family,” I tell her. “I’ll go talk with them and meet you back here in fifteen minutes?”

  She nods, smiling. “Sounds great.”

  I see Katie talking with our mother, but Blue is nowhere to be seen. I ask Katie where he went, and she shrugs. “Said he saw a friend and went to go talk with them. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

  It’s almost twenty minutes before I get back to the table, and I expect to see Megan there waiting for me, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I do see Blue walking quickly back towards the table, his expression strained, and I frown at him. “Blue, have you seen Megan? She was supposed to meet me back here about ten minutes ago.”

  “You might want to…”

  He’s interrupted by a shout from the hotel lobby, and a feminine voice yelling before fading into the distance. I immediately turn on my heel and head towards it, a sudden gut feeling telling me that something is wrong with Megan. Blue follows behind, and then I see my Uncle George, on the verge of storming back into the venue, his hand on the side of his face. It’s bright red and there’s small nail marks on his cheekbone.

  I frown at him. “What the hell happened out here? Have you seen Megan?”

  “I certainly have, the little bitch,” George snarls.

  “What the hell is wrong with you.” I clench my hands into fists at my sides.

  “The little bitch slapped me.” He sneers.

  “What? Why would she do that?”

  “Because she knows I’m telling the truth about having seen her at the club, that’s why! She’s nothing but a little gold-digging slut who wants to get her talons in this family, and I’m not having it, Kameron!”

  I can’t help it. I’ve kept my temper as best as I’m able ever since he showed up that morning when I brought Megan to meet my family, but I’m done. All of the rage and anxiety and worry that I’ve felt since then rises up in me, and I rear back and punch him solidly in the face, my fist striking on the same side that’s bright red from Megan’s slap.

  George groans, clutching his face, but he straightens up, glaring at me defiantly. “When are you going to stop defending her, Kameron? She’s barely one step up from a whore. I know it was her at the club. You’re just too blind to see it.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” George spits. “You just can’t stop thinking with your dick, can you? It was her. Call me when you pull your head out of your ass, Kameron.” He turns away then, storming out of the hotel, his hand still clutching his purpling jaw.

  I’m left standing there, Blue next to me, staring out into the darkness just beyond the hotel doors. “That ass hole deserved it man.” Blue says patting me on the back. I’m not even thinking about George now but Megan.I don’t know where she’s gone. I pick up the phone and call her, but there’s no answer. I text her frantically: Where are you, babe?

  And a few
minutes later, when there’s no answer: Did you leave?

  Megan where are you? I’m so worried.

  “Come on, man,” Blue says. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “We need to look for her.” I look at him frantically, shoving my phone back into my pocket. “What if someone took her? What if she’s been kidnapped?”

  “Are you listening to yourself? She’s probably back at the apartment. Asshole upset her and she bailed. Come on, I’ll take you home. We’ll see what’s going on.”

  I make my apologies to my parents. My mother is horrified, my father slightly less so—but after our conversation before my visit to the club, I know his feelings about Megan. He likes her, but he’s concerned.

  I refuse to be concerned about anything but Megan and where she is. Not her past, not George, not his insistence that it was her and not some relative at the club.

  Blue’s calmer head prevails, however, and we go back to the apartment. Megan is nowhere to be found. “Where is she?” I growl, stalking around our room and rifling through the drawers, trying to figure out if she’s taken anything.

  “Maybe she hasn’t come back here yet,” Blue says pragmatically. “Maybe she went somewhere to cool off.”

  “Then why hasn’t she texted me?” I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “What if she left? But she wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t have any reason to.”

  “If she’d left, she would’ve at least come back and changed out of that dress, taken some of her things.”

  “Or…maybe she’s just taking some time to herself, to sort all of this out. Your uncle keeps accusing her of being a stripper and basically a gold-digger, Kam. And she worries about your family wanting her as it is. It’s not a stretch to say that she might want some time to think all of it through.”

  There’s something in his face that hints that he’s not telling me everything, but I don’t have the ability to sort through it just now. All I can think is that Megan is gone, and I don’t know where she is, or if she’s safe.