by Haven Rose
There’s a break following the meal and before the speeches begin, so everyone takes advantage of the opportunity to use the restrooms and mingle.
Rooney and I cross paths with a couple that adopted a cat from her, their gratitude for her evident. She lets them know she’s recently moved locations due to an issue with her previous site and they ask for the new address, saying they’d been talking about adding to their family. With a promise to call as Rooney knows how to contact them, we part ways and head back to our seats.
The rest of the evening goes well, the charity reaching its goal and more, and we’re saying our good-byes before departing.
My hand is on Rooney’s back as I let her know, “Rainbow, I’ll get the car and meet you at the entrance so you can use the ladies’ room.” She gives me a grateful smile and, unable to resist, I start to drop a sweet kiss on her plump lips, but my plan is thwarted. I should’ve known my mother couldn’t leave it alone, very few remain unscathed after an encounter with her.
Another haughty look occurs, this one takes in Rooney’s tattoos and the full design of her dress, including the slit in the leg. “Rainbow? Well, she certainly is…colorful,” my mother says, nose rising so far in the air it’s a wonder it doesn’t touch the cathedral ceiling in the ballroom.
“Thank you,” Rooney replies politely though I know she’s fully aware it was not meant as a compliment. However, taking it as such puts my mother in a bind because she can’t correct her without appearing catty. My fiancée has no such boundaries on her words. “I’m surprised someone with your tastes would think so,” her eyes taking in the simple - yet expensive, I’m sure - black dress my mother is wearing and referring to the fact she’s the only woman we saw dressed that way tonight. The others had chosen bright or pastel colors.
And on that note, we take our leave, Dean and Peyton on either side of us, the former chuckling and the latter whispering how Rooney is her hero, that she would never have the courage to stand up to her mother like that. Rooney tells her that isn’t the case, that she did so years ago and has continued to, and for a far better reason than a dress.
Peyton’s confusion is evident, so Rooney explains, “When you discovered you were pregnant with Reese, and every day following.” Peyton just stares at her in shock, obviously never once considering what Rooney pointed out. As if sensing Peyton needs the subject to change, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, her spine straightening like she’d just realized it was there, Rooney tells me, “I never did finish my story about where this,” she gathers the skirt in her hand for a second and gives a little shake, indicating it’s what she’s referring to, “came from.”
“No, you didn’t, did you? I wonder why that is,” I say with a smirk.
“I was distracted by the dick,” she informs me, causing Dean to lose it, holding his side like he’s punctured something from laughing so hard. Peyton is still lost in her head, Rooney’s words not registering so she doesn’t react at all.
Starting to laugh myself, I stop and look at her, her smile a bit mischievous. “Wait. Are you talking about my dick or calling me one?” I ask, needing her to clarify.
“Yes,” she answers. I don’t even have time to say or do anything to her smartass remark before she continues, “Since I couldn’t find anything among your sister’s clothes, we looked online and found this one. She was sweet enough to pick it up for me as it’s near her work and dropped it off a couple days ago.”
Catching Peyton’s eye, seeing she’s tuning back into the conversation, I give her a nod and thank her for helping. She smiles, accepting it, but her mind is still elsewhere. I’m glad Rooney said what she did because my sister as she needed to hear it. Maybe coming from Rooney, someone that cares about her without biological ties influencing her opinion, will let Peyton see her as I and those close to her do. She’s a fighter, a great mom, a wonderful sister, and deserving of happiness…she just needs to believe it herself first.
Chapter Fourteen
Rooney
July 12th…
“Mona, take a breath, I can’t understand you.” My best friend called a few minutes ago, and while she’s normally calm, regardless of the situation, something has her worked up. I hear her inhaling and exhaling on the other end, letting me know she’s trying to get herself under control.
“I’m out running errands,” she says quickly, “when I see a cat wandering around. It’s obvious she’s hurt, walking with her right front paw not even touching the ground, but she won’t let me near her. It’s a busy street and I’m worried something more will happen to her. You have this way about you with animals. Can you come down?”
Keys already in hand, I grab my purse off the table as I give Boomer a quick kiss on his head and tell him to be good. “On my way.”
It doesn’t take long to get there as she’s only ten minutes from my house, but I take the time to use the voice activation to call the vet I use for rescues and let her know the situation. The secretary assures me she’ll let the doctor know and they’ll get a room ready.
When I arrive, I see Mona trying to coax the cat to her, but the fear in the poor thing is too strong. Thankfully, they’re now further from the traffic so that danger has at least lessened.
Grabbing the necessities from my backseat – treats, cat food, and a small blanket in case I need to wrap the cat in it – I head toward them. Walking slowly and quietly, not wanting to spook the animal any more than he or she already is, I keep my voice soft, making soothing noises.
Stopping before reaching it, I sit on the ground, throwing treats near her or him, holding my breath, letting out a relieved sigh when they take it, not realizing they’re closing the distance between us with each one they eat. While it’s focused on the food, ears still perked as if listening for possible danger, I ease closer.
When there’s approximately five feet between us, I place the food down and wait. I’m not sure how long it takes, my patience limitless where injured animals are concerned, but it pays off. The cat warily approaches the food, the thought of a solid meal too much to pass up.
Mona, familiar with how I work, is motionless, not wanting to spook the creature, giving me the time and space I need to win the cat’s trust. By now, I’ve scooted even more, so if I wanted to, I could touch its head. Instead, I hold my hand out and wait again.
The feel of fur, soft despite the need for a bath and grooming, hits my palm and I silently cheer, wanting to shout to the world, but I hold it in. However, the tears of relief can’t be stopped from falling as she – something I was able to determine a few minutes ago – brushes against me, then winds in between my legs, purring up a storm. When I think I can take the next step, I unfold the blanket on my lap and try to call Gypsy, as I’ve named her, onto it.
Gypsy eyes me, as if taking my measure, then decides to grace me with her presence, her movements slow due to her injury as she climbs on, settles in, and prepares to take a nap.
Rubbing the side of her face, knowing it’s akin to taking Ambien for an adult, once Gypsy is sound asleep, I ease the blanket around her. Mona, seeing it is time, slowly joins me then helps me stand so I don’t jostle my care package.
“I’ll drive you to Dr. Jessup and you can bring me back to my car afterward,” Mona says, taking control and figuring it all out so I can concentrate on Gypsy.
An hour later, Gypsy safely ensconced in her “room,” I thank Landry, Dr. Jessup, and her staff, informing them I’ll call later to check on her.
“What all did she say?” Mona asks when I find her in the waiting room. She’d initially gone back with me but stepped out at some point to let her work know what was going on and she’d be there as soon as she could. Working with animals themselves, they were completely understanding and told her that her shift was covered until she could get there.
“Gypsy has a broken back leg that never healed properly, her front paw has a deep laceration that’s become infected, she’s malnourished, has worms, and a bladder prob
lem. All of it can be taken care of and she’ll recover completely, though Landry is wondering about possibly rebreaking the leg – under anesthesia, of course – so the potential for future problems drops.”
“That’s all good news, considering,” Mona says.
“It really is. She has a long road ahead of her, but I know it could’ve been much worse. Gypsy needs to stay a few days. Landry wants to observe her before making a final decision on the leg, and give her IVs get her weight back to where it should be.” Everything that’s happened hits me in that moment and I stop to let my brain process it all.
Once again, Mona drives, this time heading to where her car is parked. Giving her a long hug, unable to thank her enough for not only realizing Gypsy was hurt and needed help, but for doing something about it, we part ways with a promise to talk tonight so I can update her.
While I’m out, I decide to run some errands, as well as pick up what I’ll need for when Gypsy is able to come home. I also handle some last-minute details for the wedding.
I can’t believe we’re getting married in two days. All the pertinent details have been finalized, but I’m looking for something to wear when we’re alone afterward. We’ve spent many a night wrapped in each other’s arms, shouting our mutual releases as we fuck or make love, but in forty-eight hours, it’ll be the first time we do so as husband and wife. When we come together after our vows, our bodies merged as our lives will officially be that day, I want a special piece of lingerie to help commemorate it.
It sounds girly, I know, but I am one, so that’s okay. I’m allowed to react this way. I find the perfect outfit at my third shop, swinging the bag as I walk out, already picturing Caden’s reaction and enjoying what will happen because of it.
Heading toward my car, the same feeling from the dress shop comes over me. I turn my head a smidge, so as not to alert whoever might be watching me.
“That’s brilliant,” I whisper to myself when an idea hits. Taking my phone from my purse, I raise it like I’m taking a selfie, but activate the video instead, moving some as if searching for the best angle, capturing the people around me while I do so. Playing out the charade, I pose and take an actual picture when I’m finished, pretending I finally found the right spot. However, instead of putting my cell away, I keep it in my hand, just in case.
Already a little jumpy as I open my car door and slide in, I about drop my phone when it rings in my hand, the display showing an unknown number not helping any. Reminding myself it could be someone looking for a pet or calling about helping one, I answer.
“Finding Fur-ever, this is Rooney.”
“Hello, dear,” the voice says, sarcasm on the endearment. My soon-to-be-mother-in-law. “I wasn’t aware your personal line was the same as your business. I’m sure that saves time and money.” Those shots were aimed with precision. Unfortunately, for her, they didn’t land.
“Thank you. It does, which allows me to devote more of both to helping the animals. They’re what’s most important after all.” Eat that, you sanctimonious bitch. She may be Caden’s mother, and I meant every word I said in response to her dig, but I refuse to let her try and make me feel less than; which is definitely her intention.
I swear I can hear her regrouping. “Of course,” she replies, though we each know she isn’t actually agreeing with me, “anyway, I wanted to see if you’d like to join me for a drink. There’s a quaint,” an insult in her world, “coffee shop near the hotel. I’m sure it’ll be suitable attire wise for both of us.” She just doesn’t quit.
Two can play this game. “I’m quite busy today, work and wedding preparations, but I have some time.” I don’t care what anyone says, a fist pump at thwarting her is definitely justified.
We arrange to meet in twenty minutes and hang up. I can make it there in half that, but I wanted to make her wait a little longer, letting her know I won’t jump to do her bidding. I’d like to know how she got my number because I sure as hell didn’t give it to her, and I doubt Caden did. Then again, a woman with her money can easily get the information she wants, whenever she wants.
I find a spot and park, trying to guess which car hers is, and laughing when I realize it’s the pretentious one that screams, ‘Look at me. Understand I have money and am better than you.’ Normally, I wouldn’t judge people, was taught not to, in fact, but this woman…they say there are exceptions to every rule, and she’s it for this one.
Stepping out, swiping my hands across my butt in case anything lingers from sitting on the concrete earlier, I slide the palms down the legs of my capris, getting them as clean as possible.
Appearing as polite as can be, she greets me, air kisses to each cheek, and asks about my day. I describe it, in a nutshell because I know she wasn’t sincere, then inquire about hers.
“You know,” she says, standing straighter, “how hectic the life of a businesswoman is.” We’ve reached the door at this point, her waiting, expecting me to open it for her. Once we enter, we head to the register and place our orders. A decaf green tea for me, a soy vanilla latte for her. Taking our drinks and finding a booth, we sit across from each other, me blowing on mine so I can take a sip sooner rather than later.
“How’s the wedding planning?”
“Great. Everything is ready, we just need Saturday to get here.”
“Hmmm,” she says, noncommittally. It doesn’t matter because I already know how she feels, and it isn’t good. I’ll never change her mind though because I’m not who she wants for him.
“Caden and I,” yes, I purposefully use the name he prefers, “know it was short notice, but we figured, why wait when you’re in love.”
“Why indeed. Unfortunately, Mr. Howell and I will be unable to attend. An urgent matter arose at one of our locations, something only the two of us can handle.” I mentally roll my eyes, ensuring my bullshit meter isn’t reflected in my face. “Unless I could convince you to delay the event until a better time.” The fuck she say?
“Being a businesswoman and all,” I throw her earlier words back at her, “you never really get a day off, do you?” Needing to get my point across regarding her last sentence, I choose my words carefully. “As to delaying, why would we want to do that? Those who matter most, who are happy for us, are able to make it Saturday.” Her eyes narrow at that, understanding my meaning that we don’t really think she and her husband fit the former, and we know they aren’t the latter. And then I sweetly add, as if it was my intention all along, “Aside from the two of you, that is.”
The conversation following is tense, not that it wasn’t beforehand, and it isn’t long until one of us declares we need to be going. I let her do it first, though I was close to caving.
Air kisses are given again, gotta keep up the pretense and all, we part, me doing the polite thing and wishing them a safe trip and her saying how much they hate they can’t be at the wedding.
When Caden gets home later, a hard kiss to show he missed me, I tell him about Mona’s call, Gypsy and her injuries, then my meeting with his mother.
He laughs at my responses to her, then does a little dance, exaggerating it to make me giggle, when I tell him how apologetic she was about having to go out of town, this weekend of all times. “It’s like that’s their wedding gift to us,” he jokes.
Then he carries me into our room and proceeds to make me forget about everything but him.
Chapter Fifteen
Caden
The wedding was perfect, the weather beautiful, and my wife gorgeous. And just when I thought she couldn’t be any hotter, she steps out of the bathroom, her body barely covered in a red negligee, what she later tells me is referred to as a babydoll.
It’s one piece, the sheer lace connecting down the front, then wrapping just below her hips and becoming a pair of panties. And then she turns, straps crisscrossing in the back as if pointing toward her ass, the cheeks sticking out of the bottoms. Like that isn’t enough to have me ready to come all over myself, the bra cups her breasts, a
lready fuller due to pregnancy, the bounty of them spilling out the top.
“Holy hell, Mrs. Howell,” I say reverently, the husband in me in awe, the beast that wants to fuck what’s mine has a different reaction. “Either take it off within two seconds or it won’t survive what I want to do to you.”
She looks at her watch and I see her lips moving as she counts down to my deadline, then glances at me and states, “Oops. Outta time.”
I’m on her without hesitation, ripping away what’s keeping me from touching her, then I scoop her in my arms, placing her on her feet once we’re in front of the windows overlooking the city. We aren’t going on a honeymoon just yet, but are staying in a hotel, not one owned by my family, for the night. Boomer is with Peyton and Reese, my nephew unbelievably excited to have his new best friend staying at his place.
“Hands flat, back arched, feet spread as far as you can go.” She instantly complies with my demands, moaning as she does, the reflection of her breasts heaving in the glass causing me to grip my dick through my pants.
Her eyes follow my movements, so I decide to tease her, my hand going up and down, loving that she’s watching as I stroke myself. “Take it out,” she whispers. “I want to see.”
“I live to please my wife.” I pull my hardness out, not missing when she licks her lips at the sight. “Does my baby want to suck it?” She nods. “You want me to stuff this thickness down your throat, cum dripping from it?” A faster nod this time. “Take what belongs to you then.”
Rooney turns, falling to her knees before me, hands behind her back as she licks the head, her tongue trailing to the base, circling the left ball, then the right, and moving back to the top. Once she reaches that, she wraps her lips around it, lightly sucking without fully taking me in. Fisting her hair, my grip tightening the longer she teases me, I use it to guide myself inside when I can’t stand it any longer.