by Christa Wick
Emerson caught my hand, tugged on it to bring his body closer. Seeing the physical pain the effort cost him, I slid closer but turned my face to the side. I didn't want to look at him, didn't want to listen.
"There was so much I didn't understand back then, baby. Myself most of all."
I shrank from the endearment, my shoulder lifting to shield my neck. But he wouldn't let me pull completely away.
"I am so sorry," he murmured, the soft tone trying to smooth its way past my defenses.
I shook my head, twisted my wrist within his grip.
"Just stop," I pleaded.
"I could see what Ken's constant deployments were doing to you—not just worrying about his safety, but the loneliness, too."
"Don't talk about him."
"What I didn't understand," he pressed, "was how much of your day was without human affection."
"Caiden and Maddy—" I started.
"Love you, yes," Emerson agreed. Leaning on his wounded side, one hand lightly restraining my wrist, he reached out and brushed the hair from my face. His fingers stroked lightly at the side of my cheek.
"But you have to look deep for that love, have to learn that it has its own language communicated in micro expressions. Not hugs, not eye contact, not a voice choking with need…"
Releasing me, he rolled onto his back. I looked at his face, saw that even his lips were turning bloodless. I took his pulse again, tested his body temperature with the brush of my hand against his forehead.
"If you're touching me just to make sure I'm not dying, Thorne can do that."
Looking into his midnight gaze, I shook my head. If he was well enough to be sarcastic, he was well enough for me to argue with.
"You wanted that job."
"No, I wanted a distraction from wanting you," he said. "Before I met you, I just wanted to bust bad guys. I wanted the feeling of slapping cuffs on them, not pushing papers and authorizing operations for others. Ambition—wanting something so big that it required all my focus—that came when I realized I was in love with a married woman. What I said to you in the bedroom wasn't a lie."
I shook at the words leaving his mouth.
"When you stayed away from the hospital after Shaekes initial visit, I thought about hedging my bets," he admitted. "Thought about getting him to give me a few more days while I talked to you. I worried maybe you didn't think there was a chance for us. Maybe your…your physical responses were triggered by fear for your safety…or mine."
I leaned closer, hanging on every word, waiting for the wrong one to slip out and slap me back to reality.
"Then I realized that the only chance I had of convincing you of my true feelings would be to walk away from any impediment to your happiness. I won't do what Ken did. I won't disappear, leaving you to hold everything together while you worry if another man is going to die on you. I won't do that to you or Caiden."
"Stop!" I blurted as Emerson pushed the coffee table away and slid onto the floor next to me. "You're going to pull your stitches and…and…"
He kissed the side of my face, his lips landing softly and close to the corner of my mouth.
"I spent years fooling you, fooling myself," he protested. "You have to let me tell you the truth. We spent so much time together in Boston, baby. Without even realizing it before I was too far gone, I lived for your phone calls. I waited on pins and needles for the next busted water pipe or broken screen."
He kissed me again, this time landing directly on the corner of my mouth, his hand beneath my chin as he tried to coax me into turning my face toward him. When I wouldn't, he contorted, ignored the pain and kissed me again.
Soft. Warm. My lips parted, air vibrating from my body into his. I touched his cheek, felt how cold he was.
"Please," I begged. "You shouldn't have left the hospital. You need to be in bed."
He pulled back, but only a little. His hands cupped my face, kept my gaze steady with his.
"I love you, Delia. I want to marry you," he said. "If you tell me 'no,' I'll accept that answer—but I'll ask you again in six months, then again and again."
I opened my mouth in fresh protest. He silenced me with a shake of his head.
Capturing my hand, Emerson held it close to his chest.
Smiled nervously.
And proposed.
28
Emerson
Six Months Later…
I watched Leah fluttering around the chapel in her flower girl outfit, thoroughly charming the guests whenever she stopped to offer her hand or a curtsy. Catching the direction of my gaze, Siobhan laughed.
"Better than burping while she cartwheels down the center aisle."
"She's perfect," I said, cheeks hurting from how much I had smiled since waking up that morning.
And I hadn't reached the best part of the day yet.
"Should only take a few more minutes," Siobhan said as she caught me looking at the closed double doors at the other side of the aisle. "I can't believe Caiden grew two entire inches in less than a month. Good thing Aunt Lindy always brings her sewing kit."
I grinned. "Just so long as we start before Maddy goes into labor."
"Don't jinx it!" she warned as Leah reached the front row.
Stopping, the little girl turned and grabbed the armrest of the chair that bordered the aisle. A bouquet of white lilies covered the seat. In the same spot on the opposite side of the aisle, the empty chair and lilies repeated.
Looking at Leah, no one would think the chair was empty. She smiled at the air above the seat, her head occasionally nodding. If I looked closely enough, I could see that the little girl was whispering.
"She's starting to give me goosebumps when she does that," Siobhan said.
I chuckled. "Maybe because she's a conduit to you feeling a presence you can't see or touch."
Leah raised her hand, seemed to caress the air then approached the stage. She smiled, her gaze fixed just beyond my left shoulder. I turned, wondering if someone had come up behind me without my sensing it.
There was only empty space.
"What are you staring at, Honey Bee?" Siobhan asked.
Leah redirected her gaze. "Grandad. He's been to all his boys' weddings."
For one fleeting second, I felt a warm patch against my shoulder and then the briefest of muscle contractions. If I hadn't known the space behind me was empty, I would have said someone had given me an approving squeeze.
"Okay," Siobhan whispered. "Before I freak the F out, I'm going to give Delia some last minute tips on where to throw the bouquet."
Leah waited until Siobhan made it past the two empty chairs before calling her name.
Siobhan turned.
Leah wagged a finger—tick, tock, tick, tock.
"Not for years and years," she giggled.
My cousin's shoulders dipped in defeat. "Why do you keep saying that?"
Leah threw her hands in the air, twirled them around. "Gotta grow up first!"
Siobhan's mouth dropped open, snapped shut. Shaking her head like she'd been a fool for asking, she turned and quickly disappeared through the double doors.
I scooped Leah up and stared into green eyes that were nearly identical to her mother's. "Do you actually know that, or are you just trying to get Monkey Butt all riled up?"
Leah grinned. "She sure is pretty when her cheeks go pink!"
She let a few beats pass, then shrugged in perfect imitation of my own mother.
"Only time will tell."
"That's what Gam-Gam says," I agreed, setting Leah down.
By the time I straightened, Mama was at the edge of the stage, whispering up at me.
"Gam-Gam also says it's time to get this show on the road."
Taking Leah's hand, she gestured for her to jump down.
"Come on, flower girl, let's get you in line."
For two minutes, I stood onstage alone, heart hammering in my chest. Then the music joined me, the familiar chords of Pachelbel's Canon in D vibrating up
through the soles of my feet to lodge in my chest.
The double doors opened. Siobhan came out first, a cheeky grin splitting her face in half because her escort was none other than Dr. Nygård. Thorne bore with dignity what was clearly an unrelenting grip on his arm.
Maddy and Sutton came next, their gaze on one another. Watching Sutton's hand slide down to gently brush Maddy's pregnant stomach, I felt my chest tighten.
Maddy was ready to pop, but she wasn't the only one pregnant. The family had thrown a joint baby shower for Ashley and Quinn two months earlier. One shower—two pregnancies—three babies. Mama had to sit down fast when Quinn announced she was having twins.
The big house was suddenly filling up fast, I thought as Leah passed over the threshold and floated down the aisle. Reaching the two empty chairs with their lilies, she slowed only the slightest, just long enough to throw a heartbreakingly sweet smile in each direction.
And then it was Delia with Caiden, the boy both giving his mother away and serving as my best man.
A wistful smile curling one side of his mouth, Caiden took his mother's hand, kissed it, then placed it in mine.
I knew the boy slid behind me, but didn't see him do it. Framed in a blond halo, only Delia's face filled my vision. Her gray eyes sparkled like diamonds, their edges blurred by the threat of happy tears. Her cherried lips trembled.
I wanted to coax her closer, kiss her quivering lips long before the minister gave me permission.
Ah, screw the formalities.
Smiling, I pulled Delia to me. She passed the bouquet to Maddy, freeing space so I could deepen the embrace. She molded perfectly against me, tilted her head up at just the right angle for me to claim the kiss that the minister's droning sought to deny us.
From further down the stage, Sutton coughed lightly. If it was a cue, I ignored it. I was holding my Delia, the woman I loved who was about to become my wife.
Caiden gave me a short double poke.
Finally, Leah heckled me from where she sat between Mama and Jake.
"For Heaven's sake, say your vows, Emerson. Then you can kiss her!"
Still wrapped in my tight embrace, Delia jiggled with laughter.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Say your vows and kiss me."
Right, words…
"Delia Armstrong Mays," I started, brushing her cheek. "I loved you before it was proper. And, because I could not love you openly, I hid on the opposite side of the country and became someone else. Same name and clothes, but a shell of who I am around you."
I caressed the side of her face, dipped my head to kiss her before I caught myself and continued speaking.
"Life has given us tragedy…" My gaze flicked to the empty chairs, first to the one in honor of Dawn, then to Ken's. "But it has also given us a second chance. I vow, every day, to honor all that you are. To nourish your talents, to marvel at your intellect and cherish your kindness, to drink in the beauty of your soul and know I have been blessed with far more than I deserve."
Throat tight, I turned to Caiden for the ring. The boy delivered it with an approving nod.
Lifting Delia's hand, I slid the ring on and finished my vows.
"I promise this for all my days on earth and in Heaven."
Delia's shoulders shook. Tears splashed her cheeks.
She still had to speak her words, but I sensed an intervention was necessary.
Cupping her face, I offered a chaste kiss…then one with more passion. I kissed her until she started to melt, then I pulled back, my hands gripping Delia's shoulders to keep her upright.
She exhaled a hot breath, blinked a few times then laughed.
"I love you," she whispered, then repeated it for everyone to hear. "I love you, but it wasn't at first sight. It couldn't be at first sight, not for us, not then. Still, I knew you were a kindred spirit the first time we met. And you proved yourself a generous friend. It crushed me when I thought that friendship ended because I didn't understand that it had to end before it could come back stronger than ever before."
Starting to sniffle, Delia reclaimed her hand to wipe at a tear.
Stealing the hand back, I brushed my lips across her knuckles.
"That friendship is as it was destined to be,” she continued. “A trinity of mind, body, and spirit that’s become an unbreakable bond." She slid the wedding band onto my finger, voice and body trembling with emotion. "That’s how I know that with this ring, from this day, and for the rest of our lives, my love for you will only deepen; our bond will only strengthen.”
I gazed deep into Delia's eyes and couldn’t help myself. My face kept getting closer to hers, my lips warm with impatience at the minister's continued silence.
Finally peeling my attention from Delia's beautiful face, I looked at the man expectantly.
His brows shot up. "You mean you're actually waiting for me this time?" he laughed.
The sound rippled through the room, picked up and passed around from all in attendance until the minister cleared his throat.
"By the power vested in me by the great state of Montana," he said, his voice ringing clear. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride—again."
Wrapping Delia tighter in my arms, touching my lips to hers, the world fell away. A long-absent calm filled me. This was where I was supposed to be—with this woman and her son, with my family and the community I had grown up in.
The kiss ended. Together, we turned as the minister presented us as Mr. and Mrs. Emerson Turk.
Smiling harder than ever before, I looked out over the gathering of family and friends.
And, for one shimmering second, the reserved seats with their bouquets of lilies were filled with more than memories.
29
Delia
Moonlight played over the Pacific Ocean. The stars above us competed with the faint glow of Los Angeles at our backs. The waves and Emerson's gentle strokes along my neck and shoulder tried to lull me to sleep.
No way was I going to sleep. After six months of my fiancé-turned-husband hiding his cock from me before the wedding, I would claim my reward before the sun had to rise again in the east.
Turning in Emerson's arms, I tugged at the shirt tucked into his pants.
"You've been undressing me for six months. It's my turn to undress you!"
He chuckled at my protest, his voice rich and relaxed despite our flight being re-routed through San Francisco and delaying us an additional three hours. Those three hours had us arriving in L.A. after the boat's leasing agent closed for the day. Thankfully, the old man was a romantic and met us down at the docks with the keys.
"You know," Emerson started. "As Reaper, I said I would spend the money from the deal getting drunk in Cabo while someone licked Jello shots off my dick."
"I'm more than happy to give it a thorough tongue bath," I shot back. "But you didn't tell me I should pack any Jello and your damn pants are still on."
I tugged at his shirt again.
"Seriously, what will it take to get you naked?"
His hand trailed from my collarbone to my breast. I had already changed into a bikini even though the evening temperature out on the water required a blanket to keep me from shivering.
A blanket or Emerson dipping his fingers beneath the material to roll my nipple between his fingers. That warmed my flesh in a heartbeat.
Still, I wasn't going to let him distract me so easily.
"Listen," I growled, leveraging my weight until I was on top of him, straddling his lean hips. "Is there anything I need to know?"
I didn't really think he was holding back any bad news or concerns—at least not rational concerns. Despite our living apart during the engagement, his hands and mouth had brought me to enough climaxes in our six months of waiting that I had glimpsed the outline of his hard cock pressing against his pants several dozen times. And I was pretty certain he had rubbed a few out either as a way of maintaining his self control before he fingered and licked me silly or to relieve the pres
sure afterward as I lay in a post-orgasmic coma.
"All systems are go, baby," he confirmed with a wink and a smile.
"Then that cheeky grin should be the only thing you're wearing," I huffed as his hands tried to sneak behind me in search of the ties to my bikini.
Squeaking a fresh protest, I rolled along the deck cushion.
He rolled with me, his gaze glittering more dangerously once he had me on my back, his body blanketing mine. He chewed at the bottom corner of his grin, the rest of his expression filled with pure masculine calculation.
"I'm undressing you," I insisted.
"Are you?" he teased, his head dipping to lightly bite my chin. "What then?"
A small quiver passed from my shoulders down to my toes as I molded my hand against his hard cock and gave a light squeeze.
"This is torture," I protested.
Allowing some of his weight to settle atop me, Emerson leaned forward and nipped at my ear. I growled again, tried to nip back. Hooking one thumb beneath the bikini waistband, he eased that side down my hip.
"Please," I moaned as he pushed his hands between my legs.
Deeply aroused since before we even boarded the boat, I squirmed.
"If you're still dry, I'll let you undress me first," he teased, one finger sliding between my thighs. "But if you're wet…"
I moaned and thrust upward as a finger slicked across my clit then pushed thickly into my pussy.
"Soaking wet, baby."
He slid another finger in. My eyes rolled up, my lips parted.
"Six months," I repeated, my will to effectively resist him completely sapped by the push and pull of him moving through me.
"Didn't you enjoy those months?"
His voice didn't lose its tease—or its confidence. We both knew how many times he had brought me to a quivering, screaming orgasm.
He had the ball gag to prove it.
"You know I did," I whimpered, grinding against what had become a triangle of fingers scissoring in and out as his thumb barreled up and down my clit.
