by Holly Rayner
The sun sank low over the horizon, setting the boats still out on the bay in stark silhouettes. It was the perfect evening—low wind, the grass coated in the crunch of autumn leaves, and all of our close family and friends arranged in white folding chairs on the hill. It was exactly like I’d hoped it would be.
“Brother of the bride coming through. Excuse me. Excuse me.” Greg pushed his way through Ciara and Alexandria—both of whom were trying to fix my makeup and adjust the skirt of my form-fitting wedding dress—and held out an elbow to me. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”
I laughed. “Is the chariot your arm?”
“Yup. Come on. We have to get you married.”
“You look great in a tux,” Alexandria said, appreciating Greg in a way that made me intensely uncomfortable. At the same time, she had already asked whether I would be okay if she tried to pursue something with him, and I’d given my blessing. If my brother had to date someone, I’d like it to be someone I liked. And who better than one of my best friends?
Greg’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “You also look very lovely, Alexandria. As always.”
They smiled at one another before I tugged on his arm, reminding him of his duty to walk me down the aisle. It was tradition for the father of the bride to walk her down the aisle, but everyone in my family agreed that Greg was the right choice. He was my best friend, and in a way, him walking me down the aisle was a celebration of the fact that he was still alive and well. It had been two years since he’d overdosed, and he’d been sober every day since.
I was so unbelievably proud of him.
Besides, Spencer and I had opted for a less-than-traditional wedding, anyway. No bridesmaids or groomsmen, just Jamie as our ring bearer. Nothing fancy in the decorations, no elaborate cake—just plain chocolate. All that mattered was the fact that we were making a commitment to one another for the rest of our lives. I was excited for the wedding, yes, but I was even more excited for our honeymoon—a road trip across the English countryside, so Spencer could show me where he’d grown up.
“Are you nervous?” Greg whispered as we neared the start of the aisle.
“A little,” I replied.
I could hear the soft music of the string quartet floating through the evening air, and I watched as Ciara and Alexandria snuck around the side of the hill to take their seats in the front row. But suddenly, we rounded a tree and I saw Spencer standing at the end of the aisle. And nothing else mattered.
He wore a dark gray tux with a matching vest and black tie. Looking at him, it was impossible to believe he was standing there waiting for me. The sky behind him was an oil painting of reds and oranges and pinks—exactly the same as when he’d proposed to me in the very same spot six months before.
We’d gone out for Thai food at his favorite lunchtime eatery, stopped in for dancing at the same bar we’d gone to on our first date, and then, we went for a walk across the street. Spencer waited until we could see the sky reflected in the water, and then, he proposed. I wish I could remember what he said, but it had all been lost in the flood of happy tears that came spilling out at the sight of him down on one knee in front of me.
It had been the happiest moment of my life, but I suspected our wedding was about to surpass it.
When the orchestra saw me and Greg approaching, they shifted into the entrance song we’d discussed, and I took a deep breath.
“It’s not too late to run,” Greg whispered in my ear. “Just say the word and I’ll throw you over my shoulder and we’ll get out of here.”
A bark of surprised laughter shot out of me. “I thought you liked Spencer?”
“Oh, I do. He’s great. But I’m not marrying him, you are,” he said, nudging his elbow into my side. “So, do you like him?”
I looked down the aisle at my fiancé, Dr. Hunt. Dr. Dreamy. Dr. Sexy. The Good Doctor. Spencer.
He smiled at me, his perfectly white teeth shining in the lanterns flickering around our makeshift altar, his blue eyes drawing me in and pinning me to the spot, taking my breath away.
“Yeah,” I said, breathless. “I like him.”
Greg squeezed my arm tighter and paused at the end of the aisle. “Then, let’s go get you married.”
With that, we began walking towards the love of my life, the man who would now become my husband.
Jamie caught my eye and grinned as we got close, holding up the pillow with the rings on it and waggling his eyebrows. He’d been nervous about dropping the pillow or losing the rings, so we’d been practicing for an entire week. I winked at him.
Then, I got tunnel vision. I didn’t acknowledge any of the guests in the audience or the minister standing under the peony-covered arch. My eyes were for Spencer only.
When we reached the top of the aisle, I practically lunged at him. Greg chuckled behind me and then took his seat next to our parents, who had come to love Spencer almost as much as I did.
“You look gorgeous,” Spencer said, looking me up and down.
“You better save that expression for the wedding night,” I teased, though I felt my cheeks warming under his gaze.
The ceremony was beautiful. I wouldn’t have been able to recall a single word of what the minister said, but I said, “I do,” and Spencer said, “I do,” and that was the only thing I cared about.
Our honeymoon was lovely and romantic—we stayed in cozy inns and walked down cobblestoned roads and cuddled under quilted blankets in front of roaring fires—but coming home was even better. Because now, we shared a home. Spencer had paid off my house, and I had gifted it to Greg while he continued maintaining his sobriety and going to school for a degree in social work with a specialization in drug counseling. And a few days before the wedding, after months of back and forth, spending a few nights at their place then a few nights at my own, I had moved in to Spencer and Jamie’s house. Our house.
When we walked through the door, Jamie pummeled us both, wrapping his arms around our legs and burying his face in his dad’s chest.
“I missed you. What did you do? Was it fun? Did you see the Queen?” He rattled off questions faster than either of us could answer, following us up the stairs and down the hall to our bedroom.
“If you can stand living out of your suitcase for a few more days, we’ll unpack all of your stuff this weekend,” Spencer said to me, placing a hand playfully over Jamie’s mouth to quiet him.
I was about to tell him that was fine when Jamie pried his father’s hand off his mouth. “Actually…”
“Actually, what?” I asked.
He tipped his head towards our door and raised his eyebrows. I furrowed mine at him.
“Just go in,” he begged, jumping up and down in excitement.
Slowly, I pushed the bedroom door open and gasped. “You unpacked for me?”
Jamie nodded, a proud smile spread across his face.
“Greg helped. We wanted it to feel like home when you came back. We also put your stuff in the bathroom and mixed your kitchen stuff in with ours. Except, Greg kept your coffee maker because he said you could afford to buy fancy specialty coffee now, and he deserved the machine because he unpacked all of your stuff while you were across the pond.”
And then, I made the fatal mistake. I laughed. My eyes had been brimming with tears of happiness and gratitude since the moment I’d seen all of my things unpacked in our bedroom, but the laughter pushed me over the edge. It was a flood of emotion that I couldn’t hold back, and I cried.
Jamie looked horrified for a moment before Spencer assured him it was a good thing. “She’s happy,” he said.
And I was. So incredibly happy.
Spencer was my encouragement while I studied for the MCATs. He was my biggest cheerleader when I aced them. And he was my strength while I learned how to be a wife and a mom while also attending med school.”
Things weren’t always perfect. I was learning how to be a parent to a ten-year-old I was convinced was already smarter than I was. I had to learn how
to discipline him and love him, even when it meant not letting him get his way. But even when I messed up, Spencer would pull me against him, kiss my forehead, and tell me how proud he was of me.
“I forgot to pack a sack lunch for Jamie today because I was working on my paper for my Intro to Clinical Medicine class,” I said, burying my face in my pillow.
“I once forgot him in a shopping mall,” Spencer said, his body shaking with laughter.
I looked up. “No, you didn’t,” I said, mouth wide in shock.
“I did, and he was just fine. Parents aren’t supposed to be perfect, Jess. They’re supposed to be present. You are here for him, which is more than his biological mum can say. He loves you. Cut yourself some slack.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“And I love you, too,” he said, planting a kiss on my neck.
I rolled onto my side, head propped on my arm. “You do? Are you sure? Because I think you could do better.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and then suddenly, he was hovering over me. He wrapped his hands around my wrists and pinned me to the bed.
“I couldn’t do better, because there isn’t anyone better. You are it for me, sweetheart. The one.”
His words washed over me like a warm blanket. I stretched up and kissed him, long and slow, knowing I had all the time in the world. I could have told him that I loved him. That he was it for me, too. I could have explained exactly how much better my life was with him in it.
But I didn’t. I just kissed him, because he already knew.
The End
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First Time Lucky
Time for a tease!
Up next is the first chapter of the previous book in my Billionaires of Europe series, First Time Lucky
Happy reading!
Holly x
Copyright 2018 by Holly Rayner
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.
All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.
Chapter 1
Josie
Josie tried her best not to touch her head. It wasn’t easy—the elaborate headdress perched up there was hardly what you would call comfortable—but if all the insiders’ opinions were to be believed, it was a thing of beauty. Everything this designer did was, according to them. And hadn’t everyone been telling her for the last few weeks how lucky she was to be picked for the show?
She knew it was true. She knew that, especially at such a young age, being chosen for a runway show with one of the top designers in Miami was something she should be extremely proud of. And, extremely grateful for. But right now it was difficult to think about any of that. It was difficult to think about anything except how badly she wanted to itch her head.
Positive thinking would be easier when she could get this thing off. When this whole experience was over. Of course, she was supposed to enjoy this part of her work. It was supposed to be exhilarating. But as always, moments before she walked on stage, it was difficult not to let the nerves and the uncomfortableness of the costume get to her.
Most importantly, she needed to make sure that nothing got her out of the “fashion zone.” The zone where she was a cool girl—just slightly unattainable, above the plane where everyone else lived out their daily lives. Where she was the pinnacle of feminine beauty and grace. She needed to get into the “model” frame of mind.
And she was most of the way there, too, when she caught sight of someone out of the corner of her eye that made it very difficult indeed.
Lewis. How long had it been now? How long had they been together to begin with? Not long. She tried to put the whole thing behind her. Sure, it ended well, as well as these things ever can really end. But the entire relationship had been such a stressful experience from beginning to end that she had done her best to put it out of her mind.
Had they been together a week? No, it had been longer than that. She had lasted nearly a month, she remembered now. Nearly a month of him being extremely charming. A month of her not being able to put her finger on why she didn’t want to stay with him. She couldn’t give him a concrete reason not to keep moving forward, not to go places with him that she had never gone before. Emotionally, sure, but physically, too.
And maybe that was what was wrong. She had no real reason to give him for ending it. So, even though he had been understanding about the whole thing and hadn’t pushed her for reasons that she didn’t have, seeing him was still a distraction. Why was he here working the audience? He didn’t care about fashion. Oh, he cared about models. Or, at least he cared about her. He had cared about her. So what was he doing here now that they had been over for so long?
She couldn’t think about that now. She needed to walk. To be in the zone. But she couldn’t help but wonder, even as she began to step out toward the audience. What on earth was this man she hadn’t seen in nearly a year doing sitting in the front row?
It went well, her walk. The strut and the acting and the performance of it. At least, that was what her friends and fellow models were all eager to tell her backstage. And she was happy to believe them, all things considered.
But she couldn’t get her mind off of Lewis. Why had he come? Would she need to go looking for him to find out? The most obvious explanation was that he was here to see someone else and it was sheer coincidence that she was in the same show. He did have a history of dating models, after all. And Josie was glad to find that when she turned the thought over in her mind, it didn’t upset her. Maybe, she had made the right choice after all.
“Josie!”
Well, she was about to find out. In preparation, she put herself mentally into the role that she would need to inhabit in order to survive this conversation. Again, she was cool. She didn’t care, at least not that much. She hadn’t been surprised to see him. She hadn’t been wondering what he was doing here.
“Lewis! How wonderful to see you! How long has it been?”
He was coming in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. That was all perfectly normal. At least one thing had been drilled into her throughout the last few years of being involved with the world of fashion; her body was very often not her own. There was no such thing as personal space, at least not when people in this industry were involved.
She returned the hug and the kiss. And she put on the standard face to show that whatever he was saying must be the most interesting thing she had ever heard. Even while she was still scanning the room for someone more interesting to talk to, as she was always supposed to be doing. Make them believe you’re interested, but never be interested. That was the golden rule.
“Who can say?” he replied. “A year? Now, be honest, that seems like far too long doesn’t it?”
“It seems like too long for us not to have seen each other? Oh, you don’t think it’s been that long?”
He smiled, and all at once Josie remembered how it had been when they had been together… The way his smile made it seem like there was a genuine person in there somewhere, somehow. She didn’t miss that part of speaking with him, or of knowing him.
When he spoke again, it was with the exaggerated tone that she had become accustomed to hearing from so many in the industry. That over-the-top flattery that she wasn’t sure whether she should interpret as genuine or feigned.
He wasn’t like that when they were away from all of this. She remembered that now. That was probably why it was so strange to see him so casually affe
ct all the little mannerisms of her industry when he was around it. Not that his own industry— the world of entertainment and all things reality television—didn’t have plenty of superficial mannerisms of its own.
“Oh, darling! As though any time since I’d seen you could seem shorter than it was!”
In spite of herself, Josie laughed. He had gone a step beyond over-the-top straight to full-on satire. And now, she could remember how she’d gotten so close to him in the first place.
“So…what brings you here?” she asked, cutting right to the chase.
He took a breath as though he wanted to answer. But something was stopping him. He then nodded his head toward a nearly unoccupied clutch of couches away from the more fashionable part of the room where they were currently standing. She nodded and followed as he led her toward them.
They barely had time to sit down before a server in a short skirt wandered over, offering the cocktail of the day to them from her tray. It was more enthusiastic service than Josie usually got, and she realized as she watched the girl that she probably knew who Lewis was. It’s a good thing we aren’t together, she thought, I might feel jealous about all the attention that Lewis’s job brings him from a certain kind of young woman with ambitions.
When they were settled with their drinks, Josie fixed him with a businesslike look.
“So, are you here to see anyone?” she asked.
Lewis smiled. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to see you.”
There was a certain amount of smarminess in his demeanor, but the charm was there all the same. Josie involuntarily returned his smile.
“For any particular reason?”
Again, the smarmy, charming smile.
“Oh, for quite a few reasons. But yes, for one that may be a little more urgent than the others. I have a new project I’m working on, and I’ve got to be honest—I think you’re a perfect fit.”
