by Nicole Snow
I fully agree and spend hours that night setting several new barriers for us to break on our wedding night.
25
No Substitute (Grace)
For the tenth time today, I pinch myself in the thigh.
I’m not taking any chances that this is a dream.
Part of me worries that one morning, I’ll wake up and none of this will be real.
Barely a month after Ridge asked me to marry him, we’re back at the hotel, in the banquet room, saying our I do’s.
Dallas comes out again in full, and so do many of his high-profile friends from Hollywood. This time, when I enter the crowd-filled room, I’m beaming with happiness.
Dad walks me along the red carpet that’s been laid out from the huge door to where Ridge stands on the stage. They’ve turned it into an altar, complete with an archway covered in yellow roses.
He’s in a lady-killer tux again. Black with a gold cummerbund.
I swear, a hotter man never existed on this planet. In this galaxy. In this freaking universe.
“It makes me smile to see you this happy, Gracie,” Dad says with a sniff I pretend I don’t notice. “Some days, I just can’t believe our luck.”
“I feel the same way, Dad.” My heart swells with love as each step brings me closer to Ridge. “We’ve been through hell and back and have a lot to be proud of.”
“We sure do, Gracie-girl. Your mother wouldn’t believe it.”
The sun shines in through the window, soft gold highlighting my groom in his full glory just then.
I’d be a fool to miss the symbol.
A light.
My guiding light to happiness.
My wish, finally coming true.
“If you’ve got a light, you’ve still got a wish,” I say, mostly to myself.
Dad chuckles. “You remember that, huh? Haven’t heard that old saying in years.”
“Every day,” I whisper. “Every single day.”
I should do more than remember.
After today, I should believe it with all my heart.
It took Ridge Barnet to restore my shattered faith in wishes. Love truly doesn’t have any boundaries.
The ceremony is as beautiful as our commitment for life.
More memories than I could ever hope to hold spill out in every moment. I don’t think we’re up there for more than ten or fifteen minutes with everybody’s eyes glued to us.
I’m so stuck on Ridge, I barely get to glance around at the tears falling out of my bridesmaids, Amy and Alicia, or the solemn nods of approval from Faulkner, Grady, Joel Andrews, and Drake, Ridge’s groomsmen.
I do catch Tobin, Ridge’s best man, quickly flicking aside his glasses to catch a tear, then straightening his suit like nothing ever happened.
It’s so hard not to smile until it hurts.
I wish I could brand every second into my brain for life.
The fierce way he says I do with his midnight-blue eyes blazing with promise.
The sweet, oh-so-possessive way he slides the ring on my finger.
The unbelievable way he lifts me up and gives me a kiss that sears my soul.
It happens about half a second before the pastor finishes the famous call to kiss the bride.
If there’s a glitch anywhere, I never notice. I’m too focused on Ridge, now my husband, to have and to hold for the rest of my days.
The reception that follows is the perfect celebration of our new life together. We slip away while the band plays on, drinks keep flowing like water, and finally Ridge carries me over the threshold of the hotel’s honeymoon suite.
And yes, I’m sure he’s thrilled that we finally break that record for our clothes coming off.
No easy feat when I’m decked out like a white bell with laces that give his fingers the ultimate MacGyver test.
We both groan at the pleasure when he enters me for the first time as my husband, and again as he plunges deeper, to the hilt, claiming my depths.
God.
My nails rake down his back, and I can’t stop my legs from shaking to save my life.
He fills me, thrills me, and languishes in these slow, focused thrusts. They unite us fully, just like each feral kiss, fully intent on marking each other for life.
“Damn, darlin’, how do you stay this tight?”
He thrusts harder, sexy precision, taking me to a happy place where I can’t think of anything except the building fire, leading to a climax that’s out of this world.
When the crescendo comes, I shout his name, feeling it down to my bones.
I’m glad he’s there with me, burying himself so deep he stretches my walls, growling his release in my ear as his thick heat pours into me.
Holy hell.
It’s like riding a wave, reeling in aftershocks that have my pulse echoing in my ears, my body jolting at the brilliance of how good it feels to come together.
I cling to him tighter as we descend, loving the weight of his body on mine as I sink into the mattress.
Completely boneless, I lay there, every cell in my body spent, and even more in love with this man.
“We’re gonna break some records tonight,” he says, rolling off me and onto his back, as listless as I am.
A tiny giggle is all I can muster right now, but I’m up for the challenge.
Rather, I will be in a few minutes.
He slides an arm beneath my neck, pulling me close. “Have you thought about where you want to go for our honeymoon?”
I snuggle in closer. We’d discussed a honeymoon, but there was so much to do with the wedding I thought it’d make sense to relax closer to home for a couple weeks.
I’ve also got plenty of Dallas folks blowing up my phone and email constantly, booking design projects. Soon it’ll also be time to fly to California for his new film.
“Any place you’ve dreamed of,” he tells me. “That’s where we’ll go.”
I lift my chin, looking at him with a smile. “Right here. Nowhere else comes close.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “Then we’ll figure it out. We’ve got the whole world to enjoy each other’s company.”
Laughing, I scoot up and kiss his lips, running a hand down his hard, flat stomach.
He wraps my fingers in his and guides my hand down to his cock, leaving no doubt where we’re off to.
A month later, we’re in Hollywood.
I’m thoroughly enjoying being an intern of sorts on the set crew, helping decorate scenes to be shot in old homes, saloons, stores, jail houses, and a mass of other settings.
Yes, he’s doing another Western, but this time it’s by one of the best and brightest creative teams in the industry, or so he says.
I’m also amazed by the film process.
Mostly, though, I’m awed by my stunning husband. Ridge’s ability to read something once, and have it memorized, is truly astounding.
So is the way he repeats what he’s read with such passion and belief. He makes every bit of fiction come alive.
And when the cameras aren’t filming, he’s back to being himself, which is even better.
I’ve read the script. It’s compelling, action-packed, but there’s also a love interest for Levi, Ridge’s reformed outlaw character. It’s a small part of the story, but it still makes my stomach queasy.
I know Ridge loves me, but I know what it’s like pretending to be his love interest.
I don’t want anyone else having the honor.
Call me jealous. Whenever he breaks from scenes, I’ve got my lips on his, marking my territory for all to see.
“Grace, you’re needed in wardrobe.”
I fluff the pillows on the old bed I’d just covered with a patchwork quilt for an upcoming scene, and turn to the producer’s assistant, James. He’s older, with grey hair and more lines on his face than a road map.
“Wardrobe? Why?”
“For your fitting,” he says. “C’mon down!”
“Fitting for what?” I shake my head.
“Aw, Jesus, didn’t...” His wrinkles double as he frowns. “Didn’t Ridge tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Change of script. You’re making a special cameo.”
Instant goosebumps.
“Um, what? No, no way, I’m no actress.”
“There’s no acting involved.” James pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ll see. Follow me.”
Ridge is still busy filming scenes outside, so I can’t ask him what this is all about. “Wait, how? What did he change?”
“Instead of him and Cleo getting together in the end, after he’s cleaned up the town, he rides away alone,” James tells me.
I know the scene he’s talking about. Cleo, the dance hall girl, is supposed to jump on the back of Ridge’s horse and they ride into the sunset together.
“When he rides off, that’s when the audience finds out that every time he looked at his watch, he was looking at a picture of you,” James says. “I like it. It’s unexpected. If the people behind his last movie just listened to his suggestions, the movie wouldn’t have flopped. This one won’t. I guarantee it. It’ll be a blockbuster.” He nods at his own affirmation. “Anyway, they need you in wardrobe for a dress to get some photos taken so we’ll have them for the watch.”
Ridge walks in just then, dust on his boots, jeans hugging those hips I know too well.
My heart melts at the sight of him for so many reasons.
“I was just telling Grace about the changes you made,” James says.
I nod.
Ridge’s eyes smolder, just like they do at night when we’re alone, as he walks toward me. My face tilts up as he arrives, fully expecting a kiss.
After I give him the sugar, he says, “I decided you’re the only love interest I’m having, whether it’s real life or make-believe.”
“I love you,” I mouth as our lips meet again.
After a kiss that leaves me wishing we were at the place he keeps in Malibu, the one his mother bought years ago and he still owns, he steps back and looks down at me with a broad smile.
“We’ll celebrate your first role in a film tonight,” he tells me, pressing his head to mine.
I pull back softly, touching his chin.
“Better idea—we’ll celebrate our love.” Shaking my head so my hair flips, I add, “But right now, I’m needed in wardrobe.”
His laughter echoes in my ears as I leave the set. I choose this gorgeous old dress, historical down to the last detail, and sit through several photo sets.
Weeks later, I’m in that dress again for the movie’s final scene.
I’ll never be an actress, but I agree to participate in the fade to black because Ridge insists I’ll be the only love fit for him.
The scene is just me, standing at an old well, drawing up a bucket of water, when Ridge appears in the distance.
I drop the rope instantly and go racing toward him through the tall grasses.
He rides in, jumps off his horse, and catches me in his arms, lifting me high into the glowing light. The scene ends with us kissing, wild and carefree and worth every bit of the PG-13 rating this movie is likely to get.
Some would call it cheesy, ridiculous, over-the-top.
But me?
I just call it living with the wish that came true.
My hero, my guardian, my Romeo who saves me, lifts me up, and pieces me together a little better, every last day of our lives.
Thanks for reading The Romeo Arrangement! Look for more Knights of Dallas coming soon.
Wondering what happens to Ridge, Grace, and the rest of the family after the wedding?
Check out a glimpse of their lives after the happy ending in this special flash forward story followup. - https://dl.bookfunnel.com/k315bm1uwb
Then read on for a preview of another Dallas love story, Accidental Knight with Drake, Bella, and Edison!
Accidental Knight Preview
Unfinished Business (Bella)
My nerves can’t take much more of this.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and cringe because it’s only the beginning.
Oh, Gramps, I miss you so much already. But a big teary-eyed part of me is glad that you aren’t here to see all this bickering.
I don’t know what’s worse. My grandfather being gone, or the fact that his death hasn’t made a dent in my parents’ egomania.
Using a wadded-up Kleenex to wipe at the tears slipping out of the corners of my eyes, I open them slowly and take a good, long look at reality.
You’d think the sadness would be dried up by now, if only for a few hours.
But it’s like I’ve been crying for years rather than days. Grandpa Jonah was the only stable, sure thing in my life.
Now, the bottom just fell out. There’s nothing left to paper over this circus.
My parents want money. Nothing new. It’s all they’ve ever wanted, but they didn’t even wait until the funeral was over to start making big plans.
Dad’s new pet winery in Northern California.
Mom’s new sauna, complete with a Japanese garden that will no doubt be assembled by the very best crew flown in from Tokyo.
New harebrained investment schemes that’ll just leave them poorer and angrier, trying to turn a certain fortune into a golden goose bigger than their appetites.
God. You should’ve cut them off years ago, Gramps.
A twinge of guilt strikes me. I’m hardly better than them.
My college, my failed business ventures, always had one patient financial backer. Jonah Reed.
My parents claim they paid for it all, but I know better.
Gramps did. The greatest man to ever walk this earth.
The mold was broken several times over when he was born, and there are days, like today, when I wonder if Dad inherited a single good gene from his father.
If I had the energy, I might chastise them for being so shameless, so greedy, so...predictable.
But it wouldn’t do any good.
They’d barely arrived in time for the funeral. Not that there was anything for any of us to do.
Gramps had his goodbye meticulously planned.
One of his employees, along with his lawyer, had all the details taken care of. Including today’s meeting.
At least I’d arrived in North Dakota yesterday rather than rushing to the funeral home five minutes before the service started this morning. That dishonor belongs to my parents.
Both so eager to get to the lawyer’s office for the will, they didn’t even go to the cemetery for the burial.
No church service for Gramps, of course. No loud, chest-thumping eulogies. He went out of this world with the same amount of pomp and circumstance as he’d arrived. The quiet, simple kind.
The countless flowers, plants, and cards that people sent from every corner of the country were proof of how many lives he’d touched, though. I read every one of them this morning, alone, at the funeral home, sitting beside the small urn that contained the last remnants of the only person I’ve ever had a true connection with.
The only person I knew who loved me, unconditionally, flaws and all.
“Please, if you’d quit interrupting,” Reynold Sheridan says. The lawyer whose office looks as staunch and sterile-looking as he is points a finger at my parents. “I could get the answers to your questions much faster.”
Mother huffs. Father pats her arm. I pinch my lips together.
Ugh.
I sort of like this lawyer guy, though. His no-nonsense attitude at least makes them work for it.
They’re used to getting their way, and you’d think they’d both witnessed a sacrilege when the lawyer politely checks them. Gramps probably warned Mr. Sheridan about that.
Another big sigh. I let it out quietly.
Why am I even here? I can only imagine this meeting going down one way.
Dad’s an only child, so everything – a vast fortune that includes the sprawling ranch and an oil company worth ten figures –
goes to him. To them.
They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. I came along years after they’d gotten married and were set in their ways. I’ve always believed I was the only oops that they couldn’t buy their way out of. Or that Gramps couldn’t pay their way out of.
I’ve heard more than once that they’d already have a third home on Lanai or some other exotic island if I hadn’t accidentally come along.
But neither of them felt like raising a child overseas anyway.
Raising one in the States hasn’t been so good either.
Another tinge of guilt strikes.
I get it. We’re loaded, even without Dad getting a hundred times richer today. I should be grateful.
I’ve never wanted for anything, and as far as parents go, they haven’t been total monsters. Not compared to some. And I always had Gramps.
But not anymore. Now, we just have his assets. And soon, I won’t even have the one place I always considered home.
The Reed Ranch.
When I was little, I loved hearing my parents say they were going on vacation because that meant I was going to stay with Gramps. I spent every summer there for as long as I can remember, and practically every school break, too.
I even missed school during the times when my parents ‘just had to get away for a while.’
I’ve never figured out exactly what they had to get away from. Neither of them has ever worked a normal job. Dad sits on the executive board of directors for North Earhart Oil, which is really just a made-up position, yet it sounds better than simply admitting his father’s company sends him a check every month to stay away.
Another mystery. I don’t know what happened between them, why there’s bad blood, other than Gramps told me once that it didn’t work for him and my father to spend too much time together. He more or less paid him to stay away.
Family dinners full of love and laughs weren’t our gig. Or holidays where someone would have a little too much wine and wind up spilling some shocking secret over the table.
