by Gigi Blume
My sister! Traitor.
“Well then.” I supposed matchmaking ran in the family.
“Well then.” Jaxson repeated my words and with a sincere expression, bent his knee onto the sand. He took my left hand and poised the ring at my fingertip.
“Emma, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
I ran my teeth along my bottom lip and helped him slip the ring on my finger.
“Yes. Of course. Now get up from there.”
Jaxson shot back up and captured me in his arms, embracing me like the only source of air. He held me for a timeless moment, breathing me in, exhaling himself to me. It was bliss.
My best friend—now fiancé.
I guess one could say he was my boyfriend for all of three minutes. But to me, he was my better half for the past ten years.
“This is it, then,” I said, smiling larger than life. “We’re actually doing this.”
“Yes, we are,” he answered, speaking into my hair. “Not quite what we expected when we woke up this morning, is it?”
“Perfect misery to perfect happiness.”
He slid out of the embrace to kiss me. “I only want to make you happy. It’s my goal in life.”
“You’re bloody good at it,” I said, kissing him back. He smiled extra wide, and I kissed his smile, too. Even his lovely teeth. “And Jax?”
“Yeah?” He loved the smile kisses.
“I love you. In case you didn’t know.”
A deep rumble erupted from his chest. His laugh just did things to me I couldn’t explain.
“I had an idea. But it’s good to hear you say it.”
“I’ll never stop.”
Jaxson fixed his eyes on me, arresting me with candour and honesty in their beautiful depths and softly spoke directly to my soul.
“Neither will I,” he whispered. “Never in a thousand years.”
Epilogue
FOUR WEDDINGS AND A MUSICAL
One Year Later
Emma
I used to think the best weddings were the ones in which I made the match. That all changed the day I married my best friend. I came to realize the sweetest weddings—the happiest, most magical ones were those that took you by surprise.
I decided surprises should be my new thing.
Warm twinkle lights draped across the expanse of The Hacienda Gardens, casting a romantic and faerie-like glow on the wedding reception. The food was fabulous, the music was lively, and the bride and groom were incandescent. I squeezed Jaxson’s hand as Harriet and Martín led the first dance as a married couple. So in love. Mr and Mrs Roberto Martinez. The Spanish/Irish theme was the perfect mash-up of classy and wild. The DJ spun an epic playlist of Riverdance and The Gypsy Kings. Harriet’s uncles and cousins gambled at the corner table, and Martín’s family provided a sword for the cake cutting. Every detail was just as it should be.
Pinky caught the bouquet and was carried off by the groomsmen, probably to take pictures, and everybody flooded the dance floor, having a rowdy good time. My husband and I were blissfully content to forego the bedlam of the dance floor for the calm of the dining table.
Jax beamed at me. I beamed back. I was just too crazy about him. He leaned in for a kiss.
“Mmmm,” he groaned, licking his lips. “You taste like aioli.” He kissed me again.
“I made a point to add a few extra spoonfuls,” I said.
He kept kissing me, like kissing me was all he wanted to do just then. “I thought for sure you’d have cake by now.”
He pushed my empty appetizer plate aside with one swoosh of his forearm so he could lean on the table, bending closer. Our knees locked together. A garden reception full of wedding guests, and all I saw was Jaxson. I kissed him back, nipping at his bottom lip. Perhaps if he thought I hadn’t eaten cake yet, I could convince him to nab me another slice. I’d already tried the pineapple coconut layer and was ready to sample the other two flavours. But then the potato fritter bar called to me—beautiful balls of potatoes, cheese, and breadcrumbs deep-fried to perfection and made to order. Served with chipotle aioli.
The potato bar was my idea. So was the multi-flavoured cake. Each tier a new adventure for the palate. In fact, I was involved in planning Harriet’s wedding from the get-go. I even orchestrated the proposal. It’s all Harriet talked about for months. Flash mob, dancers, street musicians, the whole enchilada. Martín sang. Harriet cried. It was beautiful.
I bade Martín not to tell Harriet I was the one to save her from the old ‘ring-in-the-champagne’ restaurant proposal. I let Martín take all the credit. It was the least I could do after all the junk I did to Harriet. It was a wonder she ever spoke to me again after I shared the news about my engagement to Jaxson. She was angry for ages, so in Harriet time—a week and a half.
She confessed to some serious soul searching which may or may not have involved getting a tattoo. She came out of her funk having realized she’d projected all her love for Martín on the wrong guys.
She came over one night, and we’d talked it out and made up. After some ice cream and facial masks, our friendship was better than ever.
Two months later, she caught my bouquet. And here we were in a garden eating paella and deep-fried potatoes. And cake.
“Maybe you could pop off and bring us a chocolate raspberry slice?” I suggested. Jaxson’s eyes danced playfully as he ran a single finger over the firm roundness of my belly. He gazed at my face as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. I felt the gentle pressure of his finger as he made a swift swiping motion and came up with a finger full of royal icing.
“I wonder how that got there.” He raised one brow.
Jax was good at finding evidence on my baby bump. It was a catchall. Jax shot me a devilish stare—his frosting-covered finger suspended between us like a dare.
I wanted to point out in my defence that technically, the first piece of cake was all for the tiny human. Kids are messy creatures—it couldn’t be helped. She took up so much space, I had to sit far back from the edge of the table. Things were bound to drip on the belly. In hindsight, I should have draped the tablecloth over myself.
“Look at the mess your baby made,” I quipped.
A smirk overspread my husband’s beautiful face, and he slid that finger into his mouth, slurping the icing right off. A smudge lingered on his lower lip and oh, sweet mother of pearl. That icing was all mine. I captured his mouth—frosting and all—tasting sugar and vanilla in every ounce of his kiss. I moaned as my husband trailed his hand down my back. Icing transferred onto my lips. I begged for more. He deepened the kiss.
“Will you two get a room?” Annie and Randall sat across the table—just staring at us. Most of the wedding guests were on the dance floor doing the Cha Cha Slide, but Annie’s belly was bigger than mine. She was having a boy.
Jax and I turned a sideways glance toward Annie and Randall. Party poopers.
“Actually, all I want right now is a slice of cake,” I said.
Jaxson kissed my forehead and stood. “I’m on it.”
Annie’s face lit up at the mention of cake. It wasn’t lost on Randall who rose to follow Jax. “We’ll be right back.”
I smiled at Annie, grateful to share this season of life with her.
“What cravings are you having lately?” she asked. It was code for ‘how enormous are we feeling these days?’ I loved every bit of pregnancy.
“Beans on toast. But that’s nothing out of the ordinary. You?”
“Anything chocolate. I was at the checkout the other day and made an impulse haul on candy bars. I have some in my purse. Want one?”
“Something with nuts in it?”
She dipped into her handbag and tossed me a Mr. Goodbar. It bounced off my chest and landed on my belly. Good catch, baby. I mentally high-fived my awesome daughter.
Just then, Will and Beth Darcy returned from the dance floor, plopping onto their chairs.
“Why do I try to dance in stilettos?” Beth lamen
ted. “Hang on. What’s with the chocolate?”
“Prego perks,” said Annie. “You should really join our club.”
“Yeah. Join us, Beth,” I agreed. “You’ve been married four months already. Get with the program.”
Will’s ears turned bright red. I could tell he was looking around for the other guys.
Beth held up her palms in protest. “Oh no! I’m not drinking that Kool Aid.”
Will cleared his throat. “Where’s Jaxson?”
“He went to get some cake,” I assured him. “He’ll be right back.”
He tapped his thumb on the table and nodded. They’d developed something of a close friendship since Beth re-joined the Field of Hearts cast. It was perfect timing after she worked on that indie film with the Frerrars Brothers. When filming for Field of Hearts wrapped up, Will would often hang out with Jax in the editing room. They took to spending lots of time together. Something that pleased me more than anything since Beth meant the world to me. It was the new dynamic in our lives.
Will shook his head in wonder. “I still can’t believe he gave Karaoke Unplugged to Martín as a wedding gift,” he said, taking a pull from his drink.
“It wasn’t a gift,” I replied. “Roberto earned it.”
There was no denying the impact Roberto Martínez had on that club. So much profit was made in the first year, Jaxson was able to invest in his own production company. Donwell Pictures. He considered that payment enough and turned the keys over to Martín.
Randall and Jaxson returned shortly with as much cake as they could carry.
“We got three of every flavour, so we don’t have to get back up,” Randall said. I grabbed the nearest slice of chocolate raspberry.
“You didn’t happen to find Pinky while you were up?” I asked Jaxson. “I haven’t seen her since she joined the Spanish Brigade.
“Oh, I don’t think we’ll see her again tonight,” said Beth, wagging her brows. “That was some clever matchmaking on your part, Emma.”
Jaxson scowled at me in warning. “Emma, you promised.”
“It wasn’t me, I swear.” All eyes were fixed on me. But I was out of the matchmaking business for good. “Besides, Mama’s got a brand-new bag.”
Jaxson face palmed. “Oh, please, no.”
“What’s the new thing, then?” asked Beth. Everyone groaned, making her sorry she brought it up.
I grinned, remembering the satisfaction of a successful flash mob, the elated feeling of a job well done and knowing I did my part in creating a happy memory for Harriet and Martín.
“Epic marriage proposals,” I replied, sitting up a little straighter.
Beth wrinkled her brows. She didn’t get it.
“What’s wrong with a simple marriage proposal on the beach?” Jaxson challenged. “Something private and intimate?”
I spun the ring on my finger, remembering how Stella and Mum had been planning our engagement before Jax and I realized we loved each other romantically. Surely, Jax had to admit there was nothing private in that transaction.
“Nothing wrong with that, my love.” I leaned as well as I could with the bulge between us and kissed my husband. He relaxed his arms and wrapped his hands around the new Knightly kicking away inside me. His whole face brightened as he felt her little feet tap away at his touch. With widened eyes, he gasped and was stunned into speechlessness. I rather liked that look on Jaxson. Total surrender. Complete surprise. Unflagging joy.
After all, surprises are always much more fun than secrets…
Turn the page to join Georgia Darcy as she endures sleet, snow, and a handsome stranger to make it to California on time for Will and Beth’s wedding in
Driving Miss Darcy
1
Georgia
As I stepped out of the cab and skipped into La Guardia Airport a smile spread over my features at the prospect of five and a half blissful hours of in-flight entertainment eating a microwaved meal on a tiny tray. My friends at Juilliard thought I was crazy.
My dorm mate would say, “Georgia, you better bring a butt pillow.” and “Make sure you chew gum to pop your ears.”
She didn’t care for planes.
But I really did love the solitude of sitting in a bucket seat, virtually undisturbed at thirty-eight thousand feet in the sky. I loved the prospect of traveling somewhere—even somewhere familiar—with the distinction of having woken up in a place thousands of miles away. When I traveled, I was someone who did things.
I could get into any kind of travel, really. If my movie star brother wasn’t so annoyingly protective, I’d be all over the world satisfying my wanderlust with jaunts across Europe on romantic trains, or hiking to the tippy top of Machu Picchu. But today’s trip was a trip home for Christmas. To a house my mother lovingly named Pemberley—because who doesn’t name houses? Granted, the house was the size of a shopping mall, so maybe that was her saucy sense of humor shining through.
My flight from cold, sludgy New York City to bright, breezy Los Angeles (with a connection in Chicago) would get me home just in time to wrap my Amazon orders and put them under the tree but also to attend my brother Will’s wedding. He’d been with his girlfriend Beth almost a year.
The idea of a Christmas Day wedding would seem ludicrous to most people. But the holidays held something special for my brother and his bride, so who was I to warn them about all the potential stress? After all, what was the most major holiday on the planet to a high-profile Hollywood wedding? Santa Claus who? Will Darcy and Beth Bennet were getting married.
La Guardia was massive, but I wheeled my little carry-on bag through the terminal, spreading Yuletide cheer with each springy step as I made progress toward my gate. I envisioned magic Christmas dust sprinkling from my smiles and gleeful greetings as the TSA guards eyed me suspiciously. How dare I hum Sleigh Bells whilst passing though the security check? But I wasn’t about to let those Scrooges cool my imaginary peppermint hot chocolate. No sir. I may have studied Piano Concerto No 23 while school was in session, but Jingle Bell Rock was my jam.
Speaking of music, I fell asleep with my music app open on my cell phone and forgot to charge the battery. But since I had plenty of time before boarding, I decided to use one of the charging stations at the gate. I didn’t account for the onslaught of holiday travelers, so all the charging ports were full. All except for one. Which was currently blocked by some guy’s dog. He was ridiculously cute—the dog, not the guy. Okay, the guy, too. But neither the dog nor the man were the problem. It was the crowd of giggling girls surrounding them that really blocked my access to the charging port. All of them were young, barely out of high school by the looks of them, and they all wore spandex leggings a little too clingy around their backsides. I noticed this because those backsides were pointing directly at me as the girls bent over, fawning over the dog—and the man.
The dog, a jumpy little Jack Russell Terrier, was wagging his tail with unflagging abandon, joyfully licking their faces. The man, well he was enjoying the attention just as much. He probably only brought the dog along to get women’s numbers.
“Excuse me.” I said cheerily, holding out my phone. I pointed to the charging station. The girls all ignored me. “Um...excuse me?” I repeated a little louder this time. One of them turned around, standing up to her full height and stared at me for a whole three seconds before turning back to flirt with the guy. She was tall and slender and beautiful like all her friends and that look she gave me might as well have said Back off, sister.
“I just need to squeeze past you to charge my phone.” I wanted to add He’s all yours. I wasn’t interested in the guy or the dog. My battery was at two percent; surely somebody would have mercy on me. I looked around me hoping to find an open port. Nope. Fancy businessmen in suits too important to give up their spots occupied half of the charging ports. The other half were occupied by teenagers—also not likely to unplug for little ‘ol me. Not that height mattered. I wasn’t as tall as that mean girl and her friends, but I
more than made up for it in moxie. I got into Juilliard on my own merit, not because I had a famous brother. I was a strong woman, thank you very much. Small but mighty.
You got this, Georgia.
And so I rolled my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and tapped the girl on the shoulder.
She spun around so abruptly, the ripple effect of it disturbed her circle of friends and subsequently the adorable little dog. He barked—more of a Hooray, a new friend! sort of bark rather than a Warning, Intruder alert sort of bark. His owner looked up, deep dark eyes locking onto mine for one brief moment before the dog bounded off the charging port stool to greet me. The spandex brigade jumped back, Dog Man leaped up to reach for the leash, and cute little Jack Russell evaded him just quick enough to run circles around my feet—but not before his human hooked a finger on the leash’s loop. As common knowledge of physics would dictate, my legs were wrapped in the leash and I came crashing down with all the spectacular force of gravity. As I landed with a glorious thud, my phone sprung from my hand and flew through the air like a determined little salmon swimming up a waterfall, narrowly missing the clutches of a hungry bear. It happened in slow motion—the crazy dog, falling on my bottom, my phone in flight. And yet it was like one of those nightmares where you feel like you're moving through molasses. The phone crashed to the floor with a definitive splat.
“Are you okay?” Dog Man said. He really did have beautiful eyes. I shook off that thought, remembering I was hurt and on the verge of tears, not ogling his handsomeness.
“What?”
“I’m so sorry about that.” His nimble fingers were making quick work of the leash, untangling it from my ankles. The dog wasn’t making it easy on him with all the tugging and bouncing. “Reeses, calm down.”
So crazy dog had a cute name to match. Apparently calm down wasn’t in Reeses’ vocabulary. Presently, he was licking my hand.
“A little forward there, Reeses. We’ve only just met.”
