by Scott, Kylie
“Is it the best time to sell?”
“I don’t care. If it’s upset a single hair on your pretty head, then I want it gone.”
“My pretty little head is tougher than you think. Selling can wait until you’re ready. It’s just that you talked about how she’d have wanted to live there, but you didn’t mention you’d actually bought a place.” Let the record show, while I will survive, I am a little disgruntled at him not sharing this tidbit with me. “Guess it surprised me.”
“I didn’t mean for it to be a secret. Just prefer not to think about it. Like I said, I was serious about her. Right up until I found out she’d been lying about everything. I might not have loved her, but I did trust her.” He moves his hand up to my neck, rubbing at the muscles there. Ah. Magic fingers. They go a long way toward forgiveness. “That was enough to make me stop and think about what I was really doing. What kind of life I wanted. What sort of relationship I was signing up for long-term. I don’t want to be a carbon copy of my father.”
“Mm.”
“Are you upset I didn’t tell you about the properties?”
“I imagine we would have gotten around to talking about them eventually.”
He nods. “Most of them Mom uses more than me. Apart from the New York one—she’s got her own place there.”
“You didn’t want to stay with your mom when you visited?”
“Not since she became a naturalist. Having friends over got too awkward,” he says. “Then there was the sunning her perineum on the balcony thing. Plus, some people are really great in small measured doses. Know what I mean?”
“Yes, I do.”
Another sigh. “Sorry I lost my cool with your mom.”
“That was unfortunate. But she wasn’t exactly being friendly.” And I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s been a long day. So instead I listen to his heart beating away strong and steady inside his chest. He’s here with me. We’re okay. Despite all of the ups and downs and other people’s opinions.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Give me a kiss.”
I climb a little farther up the bed, fitting my mouth to his. The taste of him is my ultimate aphrodisiac. A hint of mint toothpaste and Beck, pure and simple. What started out as closed mouth and easy escalates as swiftly as ever. He rolls me onto my back, opening his mouth and teasingly licking at my lips before diving within. We fit together so perfectly. His warm lips against mine, his tongue playing, cajoling. And the weight of his upper torso, pressing against me all the while. My breasts are crushed between us and they ache. Oh God, how they ache. I wrap one of my legs around his, keeping him in place. A strong hand grips my hip, encouraging me. It’s fair to say we have first base down and then some. He kisses me hard and deep, showing me with his tongue what he’d like to do with other parts of his body. What we will eventually do. With my head in a spin, it’s hard to remember why we’re even waiting. And it gets me so hot, the way he grinds his hardening cock into my lower belly. My sex is definitely wet and wanting. There’s so many things I want with him. I want him to touch me and fuck me and call me his. I already get a little of the last, which is nice. But I want it all.
“Fuck,” he mutters in a low voice, hiding his face in my neck. “Alice…”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”
“Okay, Beck.”
His chest rumbles with soft laughter. “Not much longer now.”
“I hope not.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh, I heard from the doctor’s office. My birth control shot is up-to-date and working just fine. No STDs to speak of. A small unfortunate case of the black plague. Highly communicable, apparently, but on the plus side it should limit the amount of awkward dinners we have to suffer through in the future…”
“Good, good.” His voice is faintly amused as he rises up to look at me. “Heard from the doctor as well. Both were instructed to send over paperwork so we can both be assured of the all clear. If that’s still okay with you, of course, beloved.”
“Of course.”
“So…we could actually have sex one day.”
He makes a happy humming sound inside his chest.
“Question is, are you feeling we’ve sufficiently bonded? That we’ve gotten to know each other to your satisfaction during this courting period?” I wriggle around, repositioning myself to rest my chin on his pec. Is it weird that I like sniffing him? Because I do. “You were concerned about these things.”
He takes a moment to answer. “We’ve met some of each other’s families and managed to do so without any blood being spilled. We’ve handled the living together and fitting into each other’s lives thing. Though that’s kind of more of an ongoing process. But I feel the initial stages have gone well. Have you found you think about it more or less since we decided to wait?”
“Sex? More. Because of course we’ve been together throughout all of that period meaning you’re my specific lust object. At other times, it’s more of a general notion to release some tension. Or you take a liking to someone and think why not?”
“Right.” His hand slides beneath my sleep shirt to stroke his fingertips over the bumps of my spine. “Any fantasies in particular you want to share, dearest?”
“Well, there’s the one of you in a French maid’s uniform bending over coquettishly to dust things.”
He laughs. “Nice.”
“But then there’s also the one where you’re dressed as a fireman busting down the bedroom door to save me.”
“Is the fire in question a metaphorical one happening between your legs?” he asks. “Because I could totally work with that.”
I just smile. He makes me smile a lot.
“Gosh, I L you, beloved. Both as a person and as a woman with fabulous tits and a gorgeous ass.”
“Why, thank you. I’m quite fond of you too. I think you’re hot.” I fake giggle. Actually, it’s not that fake. Sometimes he does just make me feel sixteen all over again and giddy with hormones. Like I could put a picture of him up on my bedroom wall and stare longingly at it for days.
“I’m very glad you’re here.” With his other hand, he reaches over and switches out the light. “Sweet dreams of me.”
And everything is so perfect and peaceful. I wish things could stay this way forever. Only with added boning, of course.
True to her word, Mom is polite to Beck at breakfast. Perhaps there’s hope for future friendly relations after all. Beck almost messes up and offers her the use of the jet when she says her flight’s been delayed. But he catches my look at the last moment. Normal people don’t lend out their jets. That’s a rich people thing. And we’re pretending he’s normal for her comfort’s sake. Just until she accepts that he and I are long-term. Fingers crossed.
I drop her off back at the airport in my G-Class. She tries not to be impressed with the behemoth vehicle, but she is. Her subtle bouncing on the seat and asking about all of the features kind of gives it away. It’s nice that she can enjoy some of the perks of my new lifestyle. Maybe it’s just the whole house and everything being in her face that was overwhelming. Along with what happened to her friend way back when. Whatever. I obviously come by my worrisome nature naturally.
We part with hugs and she seems okay. At least the cult thing seems to have been put aside. Which is when my cell beeps.
Emma: Why aren’t you here yet?
Me: What are you talking about?
Emma: Did I forget to tell you? Ugh. Baby brain. I need you at my place right now.
Me: What’s wrong?
Emma: Just come to my place it’s URGENT.
Me: Ok. Address?
The address is sent along with a screen shot of a map. Maybe she thinks I can’t operate Google Maps. Who knows? And off I go as directed. Her place is past the Cherry Tree Mall in a luxe neighborhood. I’m buzzed through a security gate and drive up to the house. It’s old and chateau style like Catherine’s house only done in a white stone with a gra
y slate colored roof. Not as fussy as her grandma’s despite the fountain and circular driveway leading to the front door. There’s an expanse of green lawn and neatly trimmed trees. And an array of vans and people coming and going carrying bouquets of flowers and white linens and God knows what else.
Selah waits at the front door with a frown on her face. It only grows when she takes in my luxury SUV obviously purchased by my boyfriend. She swallows and pastes on a small polite smile. “Emma’s waiting for you inside.”
“What’s this about?”
“I’ll let her explain.”
Inside there’s a midcentury vibe to the furniture and decorating. It’s low-key and cool. A white foyer gives way to a large living room where green velvet sofas and sleek teak coffee tables have been pushed aside to make more room. Arrangements of white and green calla lilies are being positioned everywhere. Champagne coupes are being arranged on a side table. A string quartet is setting up in the corner of the room. It looks like Emma is gearing up for the party of the century.
“Nice place,” I say.
“Five bedrooms, eight bathrooms, heated pool, hot tub, cabana, indoor basketball court, gym, wine grotto, cigar lounge, dedicated massage room, and a home theater,” rattles off Selah. “She got it at a good price too.”
Huh. “Have you ever thought of getting into real estate?”
“My father would have an aneurysm.” Selah tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Working with Rachel is bad enough. It’s only barely acceptable because her family is old money and good friends and I refused to back down.”
It must suck, having a family that doesn’t support you. That tries to keep you contained to a certain role in life. I don’t want to feel bad for her, but I do.
“Alice, hello.” Rachel kisses me lightly on one cheek. Guess she likes me after all. Or she’s doing a very good impression of same.
“Hi,” I say. “What’s going on?”
Rachel opens her mouth to answer, but is beaten to it by her daughter.
“Matías and I are renewing our vows. It’s a surprise, meaning I haven’t bothered to tell him yet. I only decided this morning.” Emma sweeps into the room on a cloud of elegant shining white fabric. It’s sleeveless with a bateau neckline, her hair done up in a simple knot. “I’m not sure about this dress. What do you think?”
Rachel sighs. She looks a little tired. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. But then they all are. Is it pressing on your stomach?”
“No.” Emma pulls a face, wriggling about within the confines of the material. “It’s comfortable enough.”
“Okay. So what can I do to help?” I ask.
“Oh. You’re my bridesmaid.”
“I am?”
“Yeah.” Emma inspects the room. “I don’t actually like any of my original bridesmaids, so you’re up this time around.”
My brows rise. “I’m honored.”
Selah delicately snorts. I don’t entirely blame her.
“Of course you are.” Emma clicks her fingers. “You, musicians, play something. Let me hear you.”
The string quartet rushes into place, conferring quietly before bringing up the agreed upon piece of music on their various tablets. The delicate strains of “Ave Maria” fill the air and Emma groans. “Boring. What else have you got?”
The musicians quickly confer once more.
Next comes “Pachelbel’s Canon.” I’ve worked more than one wedding in my time on the hospitality frontlines so my knowledge of this sort of music is quite good. And this is a nice piece. But again, Emma seems unimpressed. “No. Something livelier. A touch of rock, maybe.”
The violinist contemplates this with a frown. “How about ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’ by The Verve?”
“I like it!” Emma smiles, pleased. “And it’s sort of funny, what with this being our second time around and everything. Play it. Hurry.”
“I hope they’re being paid well,” I murmur.
Rachel makes a noise in her throat. “I’ll be sure to tip them commensurate to my daughter’s rudeness and demands. Now, your dress has arrived. Hair and makeup are upstairs. Selah, will you take her, please? Best behavior, thank you.”
Selah’s smile is brittle. “Of course.”
There’s a definite look of warning in Rachel’s eye. Taking delight in Selah being treated like an errant child is petty of me, but oh well. Such is life. Guess Beck has been in touch with Rachel about his ex being banned from our house. A good thing. While my boyfriend is excellent at avoiding her, I seem to have to deal with Selah far too often. That needs to end. It still amazes me that Rachel even gave her a second chance given how she lied and manipulated Beck. Rachel’s obviously a much nicer person than I’ll ever be.
“Lead away,” I say.
I’ve never been a bridesmaid before. And I’m more than a little curious about the dress they chose for me. With all of the people rushing to and fro, it appears this will be one hell of a party. At least things are never dull with the Elliots.
Beck: Heard from Emma. Canceled our restaurant booking again.
Me: I feel like the world doesn’t want us to date.
Me: On the plus side, I like you in a tux.
Beck: Describe your underwear to me in great and salacious detail.
Me: Old sports bra with a hole in it under one arm. White granny pants washed about a hundred times so the cotton is really soft with some of the elastic coming undone around the waist.
Beck: Holy shit that’s hot.
Me: Smokin’, right?
Beck: Absolutely. See you soon.
Me: xx
My duties as bridesmaid include standing still while a seamstress makes a couple of small alterations to my classy cool Christian Siriano Infinite Tuxedo Gown in black (capped sleeves, V-neck, floor-length perfection and I will now be buried in this dress thank you). Followed by sitting still while the wonderful Tex yet again does my hair and makeup. Then hanging around for hours waiting for the ceremony to begin. Fortunately for me, I have a new book to read to while away the time.
Even with next to no notice, Emma has managed to fill the house with guests. There’s formalwear and bling as far as the eye can see. Clutching a bouquet of white roses, peonies, and small blooming branches, Emma and I walk down the aisle together. It’s easier to be brave in the face of all the attention with her striding along, setting the pace. In front of an officiant Matías and Beck stand, waiting for us. We’re side by side, despite tradition, which is nice. But as Matías and Emma take their places, it leaves me lined up directly in front of Beck.
And the look on Beck’s face is everything. It’s love. Nothing more and nothing less.
As for me, emotionally I’m a mess. I know the day and the moment is meant to be all about Emma and Matías, but I can’t help this and I wouldn’t stop it if I could. Beck’s somehow become my whole damn world and the way he’s watching me makes me think I just might be his too. My heart hammers, battering against my rib cage. The sensation of falling in love with him is terrifying and wonderful all at once. I don’t hear the words that are spoken around me. Don’t think to clap and cheer when the happy couple kiss. It had to have been a beautiful ceremony because Emma doesn’t do things in half. And despite all of the bickering, she and Matías seem to be deeply in love. They were certainly unable or unwilling to move on from each other.
But again, none of it matters. I stand opposite the man of my dreams and just stare. Guess I believe in the real thing in under a month after all. Because there it is, right in front of me. All that I want and need. When people start moving forward to congratulate the still married couple, Beck comes to me.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispers in my ear, hand sliding beneath the fall of my hair to cradle the nape of my neck. “You look at me like that, beloved, and I have nothing.”
“You’ve got me.”
“No, Alice. You’ve got me. The good and the bad and everything in between.” His lips brush against my earlobe, his
breath warm. “Don’t let me go, okay?”
“Never.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
Waiters move through the crowd with champagne and sparkling water. Beck grabs us two glasses of the first and the party begins. Music plays and people mingle and it’s wonderful. How could it not be with him at my side and my cleavage so perfectly displayed by the notched lapels and V-neck of this dress? Sometimes getting the girls out there and up there makes everything better. Not that I’m at risk of falling out. Rachel’s stylists know their job. Still, wrangling the Spanx when I need to go to the toilet is a chore. Along with ignoring the women ahead of me discussing my various flaws when I was standing right there. I’m apparently a vicious bitch out to suck Beck and his family dry. Like I even have those sort of energy levels. One swore she’d met me and I was nothing more than the low-class, fat-assed bimbo you’d expect. Nothing I haven’t heard before. But seriously—what is it about bathroom visits that brings out the worst in people? Why can’t we all just pee and live as one?
Though the look on their faces when they saw me was rather comical. Pretty sure I could take them, but like a true lady I refrain from starting a brawl in the bathroom line. Jane Austen would be so proud of me. What do some people find such joy in hating? In the thrill of being cruel?
Actually, I don’t want to know.
Tables are set up in a lavish white tent with heaters outside on the patio. A selection of food trucks arrive serving Korean-Mexican fusion, Brazilian street food, specialty grilled cheese sandwiches along with mac and cheese, wood-fired pizza, gelato, and gourmet donuts. This wedding/vow renewal is nothing less than spectacular. There are candles and blooming branches decorating the tables. A bar is set up in the corner with a couple of mixologists hard at work and a DJ is spinning tunes. I’ve never had pizza with Bollinger before. It’s an interesting mix of street and luxury.
With Emma and Matías busy mingling with their guests, we sit with our usual crew of Penny, River, Aaron, and Ethan. Beck goes to line up for our cocktails because he’s an exceptional human being and my feet hurt.
