Pretty Ever After (Chicago Nights Book 3)

by Tabatha Kiss

  The floorboards creak in the bedroom. My ears twitch, trained to detect that sound, along with the gentle tap of a cane moving across the floor. The shuffle of bare feet. The soft groan of pain.

  I open the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. A small safe sits inside. I tap in the combination and grab the orange pill bottle from inside before rushing out of the bathroom to inspect what he’s doing.

  I pause in the bedroom doorway and sneer at Robbie. The cane rests on the end of the bed beside him. He raises his arms, slowly inching a white shirt down over his head. He’s already wearing jeans, too.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  Robbie grabs his cane. “I’m getting up,” he says.

  “Why?”

  He sets the cane on the floor and my gut lurches as he hoists himself up on his own. “Because I am well-rested and getting out of bed is what you do once that’s achieved.”

  “Do you need help?” I ask.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He chuckles. “Melanie.”

  “Robbie.”

  “I’m fine.” He walks toward me, barely even using the cane to move. “Is there still coffee?”

  “Yes,” I answer. “Are you hurting?”

  “No.”

  “I heard a groan.”

  “Standing up and sitting down is still a little rough, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

  I hold up the pill bottle. “I can put these away, then?”

  “Yeah. Better yet, flush them.”

  “I will not flush them.”

  “I don’t need them anymore,” he says.

  I study his face for signs of pain, but he’s far more relaxed than I am. It’s been over a week now since he’s asked for pain meds. His wound is all closed up and his ribs have healed, but I still worry that he’s toughing it out more than he should.

  Robbie smiles.

  I frown. “What?”

  “You’re cute when you’re worried about me,” he says, easily reading my thoughts.

  “I don’t want you to suffer more than you have to,” I say.

  “Hey.” He presents himself. “Do I look like I’m suffering?”

  “No.” I smile. “You look fine.”

  He glances over my shoulder into the living room. “Were you up all night?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  His brow rises with interest. “Did you finish it?”

  “I did!”

  “Yes!” He wraps an arm around me and pulls me against him. “Congratulations.”

  “I typed the end on Charlotte and Liam just over an hour ago.”

  He kisses me twice. “Awesome. I’ll read it after brunch.”

  I blink. “After brunch?”

  “Yeah, after brunch.”

  “You’re going to brunch?”

  He nods. “Yes, I am.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Melanie, I have been cooped up in this place for nearly two months.”

  “But—”

  “Today, I feel strong and pain-free. I want to go outside, breathe some fresh air, take a walk with you, and see our friends.” His lips graze mine again. “Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And tonight... if I’m still feeling strong and pain-free...” He gives me a full, firm kiss. “I want to make love to you. Is that okay with you?”

  I tremble in his arms. My perfect Robbie.

  “Yes, that’s okay,” I say. “But I’m doing most of the work.”

  He smirks. “I accept your terms,” he says before giving me another kiss.

  Robbie and I walk together hand-in-hand, maintaining a slow and steady pace as we make our way toward Moira’s Cafe. He clutches his cane in his other hand, but he doesn’t use it to walk. He’s upright and strong in his leather jacket. His color has returned. He’s looking healthier every single day. I couldn’t be prouder of him for how well he’s pulled through this.

  We reach the cafe and he steps forward to hold the door open for me. I’d say something about how the roles should be reversed, but he wouldn’t listen to it anyhow.

  “Thank you,” I say as I step inside.

  Robbie follows me in and takes my hand again as we pass the hostess station and round the corner toward our table near the back.

  Nora and Trix have already arrived, but there are no drinks on the table, so they haven’t been here long. They look up as we approach, instantly smiling when they see that Robbie is with me this time.

  I release his hand and take a step back to avoid getting trampled.

  “Robbie!” Nora launches out of her chair. She purposefully halts in front of him, mindful not to hurt him as she wraps her arms around him. “It’s so good to see you! Should you be out?”

  Robbie sighs. “I am a strong, independent man,” he says. “I’ll be out if I want to.”

  Nora looks at me. “Should he be out?” she asks.

  I nod. “He can be out.”

  She smiles, satisfied. “Good! Because we missed you!”

  “I missed you, too, ladies,” he says. “How’s it going?”

  Trix stands, her tiny but noticeable baby bump leading the way as she walks around the table toward him. “Doing better now that you’re here,” she says. “You look great.”

  “I feel great.” Robbie glares at her stomach. “How about you?”

  Trix rolls her eyes. “Don’t even get me started.”

  “Oh, but it’s fun,” he teases as they hug.

  I pull out the empty chair for him, quickly noticing that we’ll need an extra one now that there’s four of us. Before I can turn around and search for a server, a fourth chair appears from beside me and settles into place right where we needed it.

  I look up as Roger winks at me.

  “Saw you coming,” he says.

  “Thank you!” I smile. “You back on Sundays?”

  “Covering a shift for Amy. The new usual today?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Coming right out,” he says before expertly weaving through the tables toward the kitchen.

  Robbie slowly sits down, but the stiffness in his abdomen fades as he sits back. Satisfied, I fold my coat over the back of my chair and sit down. As I do, Robbie reaches for my hand again and discreetly holds it under the table.

  Nora swoons. Not discreet enough, it seems. “So, are you two going to get remarried?” she asks.

  I groan. “Nora, we’re happy,” I say. “Why do you want to ruin it?”

  “Ignore her,” Trix says as she sits down. “She’s a little wedding crazy right now.”

  Nora gasps. “I am not!”

  “Oh, yeah? Then, what’s in that giant binder you have hidden in your bag under the table?”

  Nora hesitates, caught. “Just a few ideas I wanted to run by you guys.”

  Trix props her chin up with her palm. “Like?”

  “Place settings,” Nora says. “And flower arrangements. Maybe a few bridesmaid dresses...”

  “Uh-huh. Wedding crazy.”

  “Hey, I’m excited, okay?” Nora fidgets in her chair as she gazes at the rock on her left ring finger again. Daddy did good. “I didn’t know this wedding planning stuff would be so much fun!” She gasps, an idea striking her. “Maybe I should develop a new app…”

  “No,” I say. “Launching PK nearly killed you.”

  She chortles. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad.”

  We all roll our eyes.

  “You’re not even getting married for another year,” I say calmly. “There’s still plenty of time to get excited.”

  “Fine.” Nora pouts. “I won’t bring out the binder today.”

  “Bullshit!” Robbie taps his fist against the table. “You had me at place settings. Let’s see that binder!”

  Nora squeals as she grabs her bag.

  Trix twists toward me. “And now I’m talking to you. How are you holding up?”

  “Great,” I answer. �
��Really great, actually.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got that happy face on.”

  “Is it that obvious?” I ask.

  She nods at Robbie. “Both of you do.”

  I look at him as he schemes with Nora over something in that binder and my heart skips twice.

  Roger appears over us with a tray of flutes filled with orange juice only — our new usual. Ever since I moved in with Robbie, I’ve sworn off getting weekly mimosa drunk in solidarity and support. Trix and Nora did the same.

  “Thank you, Roger,” we all say.

  With a wink, he’s gone again.

  Nora plucks a flute off the table and goes right back into her binder with Robbie.

  I chuckle, going back to Trix as she absently rests a hand on her belly. “Do you know what it is yet?” I ask.

  Trix sips her juice and shakes her head. “No, it’s too early to tell,” she answers.

  Robbie glances at us. “It’s a boy,” he says.

  I squint. “She just said it’s too early to tell.”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head. “Boy. Clear as day.”

  “How can you possibly tell that?” I ask.

  “I just can.”

  “That’s one creepy talent you have there, Rob.”

  “I know. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s a boy.” He smiles at Trix. “Congrats.”

  Trix nods with caution. “I’m inclined to believe him. He’s never been wrong before.”

  “Eh...” My face screws up. “I wouldn’t go quite that far...”

  Robbie glowers playfully at me before going right back to admiring dresses.

  “Lance is hoping for a boy,” Trix says.

  “What are you hoping for?” I ask.

  “Also a boy,” she answers. “But I tell him I feel a girl instead. Makes for some good fun.”

  I nod. “Gotta respect the playful banter.”

  “Speaking of which, did you finish your book?” she asks. “I know you were close.”

  “Finished it up this morning,” I answer, proudly.

  “Damn, girl. That’s like two books this month.” She chuckles. “Did you find your muse or what?”

  I pause, glancing at Robbie beside me again. He turns, feeling me looking at him, and he smiles.

  “Yes,” I say. “I did.”

  He raises our entwined hands to his mouth, and he kisses my fingers.

  And I’ll never let him go again.

  Epilogue: Nora

  I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. I’m on my knees, collapsed on the old carpet of this old church, clad in a white from head-to-toe with the long skirt of my dress sprawled out around me.

  Today is the day I’ve been waiting for. Not my entire life, naturally. Until Christmas of last year, I only vaguely thought about what my wedding day might be like if I ever got to it. Surrounded by friends and family. An aisle of rose petals and a string quartet. And the perfect man standing at the end, eager to make me his bride.

  I stare at myself until my face doesn’t look like a face anymore. My make-up is done. My hair rests on top of my head, styled to perfection.

  But I’m not getting up off this floor.

  Nope.

  There’s a knock on the door. I say nothing.

  “Nora?”

  I jolt. It’s Clive.

  “Nora, I’m coming in.”

  “No!” I say, shifting to face the door. “You can’t come in here!”

  “Then, will you come out here?”

  I pause. “... No.”

  “Then, I’m coming in.”

  “Wait, it’s—”

  The door opens anyway. Clive strides inside and stops as soon as he sees me kneeling on the floor. To his credit, his face remains stoic as he closes the door behind him and stands above me with his hands in his pockets.

  My cheeks fill with blood. I’ve barely seen him in a week. He moved into Trix and Lance’s house for the days leading up to the wedding. I’ve missed him so much. Needed him so badly...

  My core ignites at the sight of him in his tuxedo.

  “It’s bad luck for you to see me like this,” I finish my sentence.

  “Is it supposed to be good luck for the bride to be twenty minutes late to her own wedding?” he asks, breaking into a smile.

  I turn away in a huff. “This isn’t funny, Clive.”

  “I’m not laughing, Nora.” He paces toward the mirror. “Are you having second thoughts?” he asks.

  My instinct is to say no. Of course not! Nora Payne doesn’t have second thoughts. Nora Payne plans out everything in advance, making second thoughts practically impossible.

  “Nora?” Clive turns and looks down at me, his tall, broad presence making my stomach flutter with warmth.

  Nora Payne is an idiot.

  “Yes,” I answer, unwilling to lie to him.

  “Because of me?” he asks.

  My breath catches. “No,” I say. I look down, ashamed. “Because of me.”

  Clive shifts on his feet and walks behind me. His stride is loud and purposeful, firing chills down my spine. I close my eyes, following his trail around the room until he pauses directly behind me.

  He lowers to his knee. I shudder.

  “Are you scared?” He rests a hand on the back of my neck. “Or just nervous?”

  I think before answering. I take too long and he pinches a section of my hair. He draws it back, forcing me to tilt my head and look at him.

  “Hmm?” he asks.

  “I’m worried,” I say.

  “About what?”

  I swallow hard. “That I won’t please you anymore.”

  Clive pauses. He gazes at me, his eyes more sinister than before. He licks his lips and smiles.

  That’s right, Daddy.

  I’ve been a bad girl.

  “Nora,” he growls, “did you do this on purpose?”

  Yes.

  Yes, I did.

  I don’t answer. He already knows the answer.

  His touch settles just above my shoulder blades.

  “Do you need to be punished?” he asks.

  My nerves twitch with delight. “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Right now?” he asks. “Here?”

  Oh, fuck yes.

  “Yes,” I say, quivering softly.

  Clive stands up tall. “Rise,” he says. “Now.”

  I gather my skirt as I shift my feet beneath me and push off the floor. Before I can even find my balance, Clive steps behind me and takes a firm hold of my waist. He guides me forward to the table in the corner with bridesmaid purses and gifts stacked up on it.

  “Put your hands on the table,” he says.

  I place my palms on the cold surface, happy to oblige him.

  Clive reaches for his belt. He loosens the buckle and pulls it free as I will every nerve in me to stand still.

  “You think I’ll find you less pleasing after this?” he asks. “After you become my wife?”

  “I don’t want what we have to change,” I say, truthfully.

  He sets his belt down on the table next to my right hand. “I do,” he says.

  Genuine jitters rattle my gut. “You do?”

  I feel him reach down to the bottom of my skirt. He slides it upward, his fingers gently grazing my thigh.

  “Yes,” he whispers in my ear.

  He shifts forward until he’s pressed hard against my back. He reaches a hand around my body and slowly pushes it into my panties.

  “You don’t want to be my Dom anymore?” I ask.

  His hand stops. “Oh, Nora,” he says, that low growl returning. “You’ve got it wrong.”

  Clive grips me by the elbow and spins me around to face him. I gasp, locked in place between him and the hard table. “What we have,” he says, his playful lips tempting mine, “is about to get so much better.”

  He lowers to his knees, pushing my skirt up as he goes. His head disappears beneath and I can’t take a full breath before he pushes my panties aside and latche
s his mouth around my throbbing clit.

  I instantly moan, but I quickly remember where I am. I bite down as his tongue dances in circles. Our reflection in the mirror catches my eye; his thick form hidden between my legs beneath my skirt, his head sitting directly in my lap. If anyone were to walk in here, there’s no other way to explain it other than...

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  Clive doesn’t stop. He keeps going, his determined tongue going faster and faster until I... I...

  I come hard, releasing a week’s worth of tension on his face. As I’m coming, he stands and drops my skirt back down. He grips my chin, tilting my face to make me look him in the eyes.

  “Do you feel that?” he asks.

  I breathe hard, riding the wave. “Yes,” I say.

  “Yes, what?”

  My lips twitch. “Yes, Mr. Snow.”

  “Good girl,” he whispers, smirking as he studies my face. “I want you to remember how you feel right now. That sense of ease and calm and satisfaction coursing through you.” He pinches my chin harder. “And I want you to remember who makes you feel this way.”

  I shake, my inner muscles still pulsating. “You, Mr. Snow.”

  “Yes.” He releases my chin and caresses my cheek. “Me. Your boyfriend. Your temp. Your Dom. Your husband.” He smiles. “It doesn’t matter what you call me. I will always and forever be the man who will get on his knees for you and make you feel like this.”

  I close my eyes, buzzing pleasantly beneath his touch.

  He kisses the edge of my mouth. “Does that make you happy, Mrs. Snow?” he asks.

  I smile. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He shifts back a step. “Now, turn around and place your hands on the table.”

  I open my eyes, confused.

  Clive tilts his head with a smile. “You’ve kept everyone waiting, Mrs. Snow.” He grabs his belt off the table. “Did you think I would let you get away with that?”

  “No,” I answer.

  “Turn around,” he says again.

  I place my palms on the table, presenting my rear for delicious punishment.

  Here comes the bride indeed.

  Epilogue: Trix

  “I can’t believe I made that,” I say aloud as I stare intently at the bundle in Lance’s arms.