“Sure thing, sweetie,” Dad says, as I disappear up the stairs, “Let me know if you need anything, OK?”
But of course, there’s only one thing I need right now. Or rather, one person.
***
My rusty yellow beach cruiser could use a new coat of paint, that’s for sure. But though my bicycle lets out its fair share of creaks as I fly across the King estate, it certainly does the trick. I’ve swapped out my sweats for a simple black tee shirt dress. Even though night has fallen by now, the warm summer breeze keeps me plenty warm as I race along the foot path toward the bay beyond Little Silver.
The gazebo looms on the horizon, rising up among the cattails and weeds like a sentry of the past. I swing myself down from my bike, letting it rest against the wooden rails of the old structure. Stepping up into the old gazebo, I take a deep, steadying breath. The smells of wood and salty air take me back a dozen years, to the last time I set foot in this place. Then, I’d been eighteen years old with my whole life ahead of me. Tonight, I feel as though my life—my future—has been renewed.
I stand at the gazebo railing, looking out across the bay. The water is glassy and still, reflecting the starry night sky back on itself. No loud music or screaming teenage voices disturb the silence, like they did on the night of my high school graduation. Tonight, the world is quiet. So quiet that the faint sound of footsteps behind me rumble past my ears like fireworks. Bracing myself in case this whole thing goes to hell in the next few minutes, I turn around to face my fellow wanderer.
It’s only been a week since Jamison and I have seen each other, but catching a glimpse of him standing before the gazebo feels like finding water in the desert. He stands there in his favorite jeans and a white tee shirt, the stubble on his chin as pronounced as I’ve ever seen it. His dark blonde hair falls across his forehead, and his strong hands are shoved into his jeans pockets. He stares up at me in the near darkness with his discerning, bottomless blue eyes. His broad, balanced body is free from the tense anger that gripped it when last we saw each other. He looks focused. Determined. Unwavering as ever.
“You’re here,” I say softly, taking a step toward him.
“I stopped by the cottage first,” he replies, stepping up to join me in the gazebo, “Your dad said you’d gone out.”
“And you knew just where to find me,” I smile, “Of course.”
“Of course,” he echoes. “So… I guess Price dropped off the new contracts.”
“He did,” I nod, “I…I had to read your letter about a thousand times before it hit me.”
“Before what hit you?” he asks, leaning against a thick vertical beam.
“How crazy I’d been to doubt you,” I say softly, holding my ground.
We stand facing each other from opposite sides of the gazebo, just like we did all those years ago. And just like then, we can no longer hold back what we’ve been waiting to say.
“It was the only way I could think of to do right by you,” Jay says, “It’s what I should have done from the start. I knew you were the right person to run King Enterprises. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. And to be perfectly honest…I liked the idea of us being together.”
“I did too,” I tell him softly, “Even if I wasn’t willing to own up to it.”
“You know, I think I was relieved by my dad’s crazy ultimatum,” Jay laughs quietly, “I figured a contract was my best chance at keeping a woman like you. But even with that in place, I still managed to fuck things up.”
“Jay…” I say, taking a step toward him.
“No. Don’t try to tell me otherwise,” he says firmly, “It was fucked up, that stunt with Svea. I could feel you pulling away from me, and that was my crazy last-ditch effort to get your attention, I guess.”
“It hurt like hell, I won’t deny that,” I tell him, “But I was pulling away from you. I let other people’s opinions get inside my head.”
“I want you to know something,” Jay says, his sharp jaw set firm, “That afternoon, after you and Elsie left DeLeonardo’s, Svea and I stayed for about another ten minutes. I didn’t even finish my drink before I left.”
“What?” I breathe, “You were gone for hours.”
“But not with her,” he tells me, “I went off on my own, getting hammered, knowing you’d be thinking the worst. I went into sabotage mode. Maybe I was trying to give you an excuse to leave my ass. Like if you broke things off because of some stupid stunt of mine, it would have less to do with me failing you as a man. As a partner.”
“Stop it,” I tell him, yearning to close the space between our bodies, “You’re an amazing partner, Jay. You may be arrogant as all get out and stubborn to boot, but you showed me more kindness, more understanding in one week than anyone ever has. Don't ever think for a second that you aren’t a good partner. Or a good man.”
“I wasn’t good enough to keep you,” he says, his eyes hard on my face. “Which is exactly why I knew I had to dissolve the contract and let you go.”
“But that’s just it, Jay,” I say softly, “By letting me go…you gave me a way to come back to you.”
His eyes widen as I walk slowly across the gazebo, my body vibrating with the want to be close to him.
“Are you…are you saying…?” he begins gruffly, straightening up as I approach.
“You never needed a contract to keep me,” I tell him, resting my hands on his firm chest, “And you know what? I’m glad the ultimatum is gone. Because now, when I tell you I want to be with you, you’ll always know that it’s for you, and you alone.”
Jay catches my face in his hands, staring down at me in wonder.
“You still want to be with me,” he murmurs, amazed.
“More than anything,” I whisper, feeling his heart beating under my hands, “I love you, Jamison. I always have.”
“I love you, Leah Brody,” he says ardently, his blue eyes blazing, “And I always will.”
Jay brings his mouth to mine, catching my lips in a deep, searing kiss. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as I let my mouth fall open to his. The taste of him is a hit of pure joy, sweeping away all the heartache and loneliness of this past week. He swings me around, pressing my back against the wooden beams of the gazebo. Our tongues glide against each other, our mouths moving as one as we run our hands along one another’s bodies.
“Jay,” I breathe, closing my eyes as he kisses along my throat.
“Mhm?” he murmurs, grabbing hold of my waist as he kisses along my collarbone.
“There’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about…”
“What is it?” he asks, pulling back to look me in the eye.
“Your letter, it technically ended our engagement under your dad’s contract,” I tell him, running my hands down his chest, “Our agreement to get married has been dissolved.”
“Yeah,” he says, his brow furrowing, “I know. I just couldn’t hold you to marrying me under those circumstances. I want to be with you because it’s what you want. Not because it’s what you feel obligated to do—”
“But do you still want to be engaged to me?” I cut in.
“What are you doing, proposing to me?” he laughs, wrapping his arms around me.
“I…I think I am,” I tell him in all seriousness, bringing my honey-brown eyes to his.
His smile fades to a look of awe as I take his hands in mine.
“Jamison King,” I say softly, “Will you marry me?”
“You’re fucking right I will,” he murmurs, a wide grin breaking across his gorgeous face.
I throw my arms around him, happy tears welling in my eyes. Jay catches me up in his arms, lifting me off the ground in an ecstatic embrace. Our laughing voices float up into the night sky together, disrupting the silent night with our uncontainable joy.
“You’re an amazing woman, Brody,” he tells me, letting me gently back down to the ground before him, “And you’re going to be my wife.”
“Christ, I like the sound of
that,” I grin back, drunk with excitement.
“Well how does this sound,” he counters, running his hands down my back, “I think you and I should spend the rest of the night right here in this gazebo, making up for this last week we spent apart…”
“You read my mind, future husband,” I murmur, pressing myself flush against his sculpted body.
We fall into each other’s arms, giving ourselves over to the moment just like we did twelve years ago. But whereas that night was all about having one last chance at having each other, tonight is all about firsts. This is the first night of the rest of our lives together. And that’s more exciting than one fleeting fling could ever be.
Epilogue
One year later…
I watch from behind a wall of video monitors as the cameras begin to roll on an epic fight sequence. Warring factions of futuristic fighters rush at each other, locked in a deadly struggle for power. Leading the charge is Svea Andersson, killing it in the role of Gemma Moore. She commits so fully to the scene that for a moment, I almost forget that I’m standing in the middle of a sound stage.
“Cut!” someone calls from the set of Huntress of Tomorrow, “I think we got it.”
On screen, the actors relax, dropping out of the characters and congratulating each other on a great take. I can’t help but burst out in a little round of applause. It’s incredible to see my vision translated into production like this. I couldn’t be more proud.
“Damn,” Jamison whistles at my side, “This is absolute gold.”
“Right?” I reply excitedly, “I can’t believe how well it’s all coming together.”
“All thanks to you, Madam President,” he smiles, wrapping an arm around my waist.
“Thanks to us, Mr. VP,” I correct him with a playful nudge.
The entertainment world was shocked when Jamison first decided to step aside as let me take over as sole president of King Enterprises. No one could comprehend why someone like Jay would choose to give up his “birth right” and take a lesser position at his family’s company. But as soon as I took on my role as president, one of my first actions was to make Jamison my VP. And this new hierarchy did such wonders for King Enterprises that people had no choice but to stop questioning our choices.
The fact to of the matter is, I was always the more qualified candidate to take over the company. Jay will be the first person to tell you that his expertise has more to do with branding, marketing, understanding what people want and how to tell a compelling story. The last thing he wants to do is deal with the nuts and bolts of movie production. That’s where my expertise come in. Running a production from afar, overseeing the big picture, managing a ton of moving parts, that’s what I’m good at. And these disparate skills are what make our current professional partnership so successful.
“Are you happy with how it’s going so far?” I ask Elsie Walker, who’s been watching the monitors alongside me and Jamison.
She turns to me with misty eyes, and I’m almost taken aback by how moved she looks. The Elsie I know is all acumen and armor. She never lets her guard down or gets emotional in front of other people. But right now, even she can’t contain her feelings.
“It’s amazing…” she breathes, placing her hands over her heart, “Seeing my books come to life like this.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy with it,” I tell her, giving her hand a squeeze.
Elsie and I may have had our bumps over the past year or so, and god knows we’re extremely different, but we’ve come to have great respect for each other. Even those parts of each other’s lives we may not be able to understand. We may never be great friends, but we are great collaborators. And in my book, that’s just as valuable a relationship to take care of.
“You guys made it!” a happy voice calls from beyond the monitors.
I look up to see Svea Andersson approaching, wrapping Elsie up in a big, generous hug.
“All the way from New York,” I laugh, accepting her warm embrace and watching as she gives one to Jamison as well.
Luckily, the incident at DeLeonardo’s hasn’t affected my working relationship with Svea at or, or Jamison’s for that matter. To Svea’s mind, there was nothing out of the ordinary about that afternoon. She’s as warm and compassionate with everyone she meets as she was with us that day—that’s just her nature. Probably, she has no idea that she was a feature in my and Jay’s fight a year ago. And that makes sense, because our fight wasn’t really about Svea. It was about each of us running up against our own boundaries and struggling to break through. But now that we’ve blown those boundaries to smithereens, Jay and I are stronger than ever.
“Are you going to be in LA for a while?” Svea asks us.
“I’m staying for a while,” Elsie confirms.
“We’re just passing through,” Jay tells the actress, “Wanted to come see how everything was going on set, but we’re heading back to New York later today.”
“Oh, of course,” Svea smiles, “The big day is almost here, isn’t it?”
“This weekend,” I tell her excitedly, looking over at Jamison with a smile.
“It’s going to be so beautiful,” Svea gushes, “You two are perfect together.”
“Well, there’s no such thing as perfect,” I laugh, “We know that better than anyone. But we do make an awesome team.”
“Fucking right we do,” Jay grins, kissing the top of my head, “And that’s what counts more than anything.”
One thing’s for sure, I definitely don’t mind the perks of being the president of King Enterprises. And a perk that I’m particularly fond of is getting to travel via private jet. It’s a piece of cake for Jay and I to take our leave of Los Angeles and head back to the East Coast, arriving late Friday evening. By now, I’ve fully moved into Jay’s brownstone on West 10th, but that isn’t where we head tonight. Instead, we drive right from the airport to the King Estate in Little Silver. That’s where all the festivities are taking place this weekend.
We pass out as soon as our heads hit the pillow. When I wake up in the morning, Jay is already up and sitting out on the balcony off his room. We’re staying together in the King’s mansion, just like we always do when we come home to Little Silver. The estate was split evening between Jay and Cordelia, which means that each King sibling has access to this house whenever they like. Even Cordelia couldn’t imagine selling this gorgeous home where we all grew up. And that’s saying something.
I roll onto my back in Jamison’s king bed, taking in the now-familiar room. Jay and Cordelia have both held onto the rooms they slept in as children—with updated decor of course, but still. In a way, this will always feel like Loudon and Priscilla’s home, so their master suite is left more or less undisturbed. Maybe someday there will be new little family members to fill in the empty spaces of this home—but it’s only been a year since Loudon and Priscilla passed. The loss is still too fresh to look over, unacknowledged.
“You’re up,” Jay says, glancing up at me from the balcony.
“Mhm,” I reply sleepily, rolling onto my side to face him, “Just thinking about what eighteen-year-old Leah would say if she could see me now.”
“She’d probably give you a high five for bagging such a stud,” he teases, settling back into his adirondack chair as he sips his coffee.
“You know something?” I reply, standing up to join him on the balcony, “That’s probably not too far off.”
I brush aside the flowing curtains and take a seat beside Jay. A fresh press and extra coffee cup are waiting for me on the side table. I smile at this little act of thoughtfulness. Jay’s always been surprisingly good at the small stuff like this. To be fair, he’s good at the big stuff, too. But it’s the little gestures of daily care that really make this relationship what it is. Even with our larger-than-life jobs and jet-setting ways, we make sure to check in with each other every single day. That’s the kind of relationship work that I’m more than happy to do.
“So. How’re your
feet doing?” I ask Jay, pouring myself a cup of coffee.
“What about my feet?” he asks, glancing down toward his toes.
“Are they starting to feel chilly?” I tease, settling back into my chair, “Perfectly natural for the day before your wedding.”
“Don’t worry,” Jay laughs, “My feet are doing just fine. How are yours?”
“Warm and toasty,” I tell him with a smile.
It’s actually kind of incredible, how easy this engagement has been. The press was all excited about it when we first announced on Morning in New York, but that was a year ago. They’ve long since moved on. The paparazzi still pop up every once in a while, but even that had died down considerably. I think the press was expecting our relationship to be fraught and dramatic. Jamison does have a bit of a party boy reputation in the public eye from his days in the NHL, so I understand why people might make assumptions. But that’s not what he and I are about as a couple. Our lives are plenty exciting, what with the work we do and all, but we’ve far from the hot messes people like their celebrities to be.
“What’s the plan for the day?” Jay asks, sipping his coffee as he looks out at the view of the bay.
“Everything’s pretty much taken care of,” I tell him, “Everyone has their marching orders for tomorrow. I think it’s gonna go off without a hitch.”
I guess the easiest way to have a low-stress engagement is to plan a low-stress wedding. A lot of people expected me and Jamison to go all out with our nuptials. You know—400 guests, famous musical guests, champagne fountains, all that business that Cordelia and her husband has at their wedding. But nothing could be further from our style as a couple. Neither of us wanted mindless extravagance for our big day. Just a cool, tasteful, fun as hell party that our small circle of friends and family could really enjoy.
I look out across the property toward my dad’s cottage. With my salary from King Enterprises, Dad doesn’t need to work another day in his life. But even after he agreed to retire from his role of groundskeeper, he still wanted to go on living in the cottage.
Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1) Page 15
