Love Me Forever

by Lisa Renee Jones

  We say a few more words and disconnect. I set the phone down and press my hands to the island. How damn deep did Ri get inside my operation? And how the hell did I let that happen?

  “I didn’t know we were planning to move the island?”

  At Mia’s soft, musical voice, I straighten and find her standing a few feet away, looking beautiful as hell—her long light brown hair wavy and a bit wild today. Her make-up is light, lips glossed pale pink. Eyes bright with engagement. “What are you talking about, baby?”

  She closes the space between us with a sexy little shimmy to her hips.

  “You,” she says, stopping in front of me, “forgot to tell me that we’re relocating the island. You’ve been pushing it all morning. We might need a contractor.”

  I laugh, and I’m not sure I laughed a day when we were apart. “Is that right?”

  “Seems that way.”

  “You’re crazy, woman,” I say, taking her purse and setting it on the island we’re presently discussing before wrapping my arm around her shoulders and folding her close. “Crazy good. And you always smell so damn good. You make me want to lick you all over.”

  Her hand settles on my cheek. “As good as that sounds, it has to wait.”

  “Why is that, exactly?”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, Grayson, or did you get so used to dealing with things without me that you don’t need me?”

  “Baby, I need you more than I need my next breath. You know that.”

  “Then talk to me,” she prods softly. “It’s the whole death thing that messes with your head, right?”

  “It’s a lot of things.” I release her and turn to the island, and the minute my hands go down on it, I laugh and turn to her. “Maybe we do need a contractor.”

  She laughs, but she gives me a pleading look. “Grayson. Talk to me.”

  “We’ll talk over lunch. How do you feel about Ed’s Diner?”

  “I love Ed’s Diner. I really love it with you.”

  And just that easily, she brings me back to the simple things in life. The important things like family, like her. The way my mother did for my father. This woman needs to be my wife. It’s long past due, and that’s why lunch isn’t our only stop this afternoon. I’m going to give us both a whole lot more than Ri and the FBI to think about when we go home.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Grayson

  I load up the Porsche with our luggage and then help Mia into the car. Once we’re on the road, on this clear October day, I update her on my call with Walker Security. “Blake’s going to swing by the apartment tonight with his wife and talk about security and the press this week.”

  “Oh. Well, that sounds much less daunting than a formal meeting at his place. What changed?”

  “I think he thought he’d have more to tell us than he does.”

  She casts me a concerned look. “Is this not over, Grayson?”

  “Ri infiltrated my operation. We haven’t named all of those names. They’re still present inside our world, capable of using our operation to do bad things. This week is going to be about flushing them out. For me, that is. You have a case to handle. I asked Blake about the ADA handling your case.”

  She shifts in her seat toward me. “And?”

  I pull us to a halt at a stoplight. “He’s dating another ADA who was working with RI to take me down.”

  “I still can’t believe Ri convinced them you were dirty. And apparently, me with you. If I can’t get that ADA off my client’s case, I need to hand this case to someone else. But I don’t want to do that. I’m going to raise hell until I do.”

  “That’s my feisty woman,” I say, sliding my hand down her hair. “Yes. You will.”

  A few minutes later, we’re on the road, when Mia’s father calls me, not her. After assuring him she’s well, the call is short and over. Mia pretends indignance that he went around her, but I know his worry touches her. A few blocks later, we pull into one of our favorite places on the island, and I can feel my mood shift and lighten, but my determination to end this hell we’re living sets firmly in my gut. We’ve walked through flames to be back to each other. No one is taking it from us.

  Soon, Mia and I are sitting on the waterfront patio of the restaurant in an enclosed area, with heaters blasting around us, the ocean the canvas to our conversation. “It’s almost the holidays,” she says, once we have bubbling champagne glasses in our hands. “It’s Halloween next weekend and then November.”

  “And you’ll be home. It will be a much better year this year. Last year, Eric and I drank whiskey and ate the meal Leslie made for us before she left and went upstate to be with her family.”

  “I’m sure she was quite worried. That woman has done your mom proud looking after you.”

  “She has,” I say solemnly, thinking of how damn much I missed my parents and Mia that day.

  “I’m sure you watched football,” she says. “In your dad’s honor.”

  “Yes. He’d have it no other way.” Emotion is about to choke me out right now and I shift the topic to what’s important right here and now: her. “What about you? Were you with your father?”

  “No. He had some special work project. He’s been weird this past year.”

  Before then, I think, but I leave that alone right now. “What did you do if you weren’t with him?”

  “I went to a movie alone.”

  That news punches me so damn hard that my chin drops to my chest. “Damn it.”

  She catches my hand. “I’m with you this year and every year from now on. That’s what matters.”

  “I almost called you on Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, baby, but I knew I’d upset you. I didn’t want to do that do you.” I set my glass down. “What do you want to do for Thanksgiving this year?”

  Her eyes light. “Put our tree up. And see two movies.”

  I laugh, and we spend the rest of our lunch talking about the holidays, but the situation with her father is bothering me. He just called me to check on her and yet he left Mia alone for the holiday. I know that hurt her and that’s not like him, not the man I’ve come to know. He’s had gambling issues in the past. I get the feeling they aren’t as past as I’d hoped. And that’s a dangerous path that can get you killed. That’s not how I’m letting Mia lose her father. I’ve invested in his business but he might need to go to rehab, too, and the holidays are a volatile time that allow addictions to take hold. We need to keep him close.

  ***

  Once we’re done eating, and we settle back in the car, Mia is all smiles. “Where now?”

  I wink. “Wait and see.”

  She smiles and settles her hands on her purse in her lap. “Very unfair.”

  “You can punish me later.”

  “I will,” she promises, and her fingers absently stroke the Chanel logo on the front of her purse.

  I have a flashback to the weekend I gave that to her. It was, in fact, our first Christmas.

  Our tree is decorated to perfection with red and silver bulbs, twinkling white lights plentiful. It’s beautiful, but it pales to Mia’s beauty and joy this morning. Her hair is wild. Her robe is pink and fluffy. I set the giant white box with the red ribbon on her lap and watch her open it, watch the shock and joy in her eyes. And then the expected panic.

  “No, Grayson,” she’d said. “No. I know how much this costs.”

  “I know you know. Because you love Chanel.”

  “I don’t know how you know that. I would never tell you that because that would be like me saying, hey billionaire boyfriend, buy me a ridiculously expensive purse. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Leslie told me.”

  “Oh my God, I’m going to kill her.” She presses her hands to her face. “We were shopping and I told her that one day I’d make enough of my own money to treat myself. It was me talking about my goals. Not about you buying this for me.”

  “Do you mind that I b
ought it for you? I know goals matter, but I wanted to do this for you.”

  “It’s so expensive,” she says, her voice quavering with emotion.

  I set the box aside and pull her to me. “Baby, I love you. And I have more money than God. I want to spend it on you. And you’re going to have to get used to spending it yourself. You live with me. This is our life.”

  “I love you, not your money.”

  “I know that, or we wouldn’t be who and what we are together.”

  “I don’t know how to get comfortable with the money. I feel weird about it.”

  I stroke a lock of hair behind her ear. “Start by enjoying my Christmas gift to you. One of them. There’s more.”

  “I did spend some of your money.”

  I arch a brow in surprise. “Did you?”

  “On you. That damn credit card you gave me was burning a hole in my pocket when I found this item and I couldn’t get it on my own. So, I gifted you with your own money.”

  “Our money, baby. Our money.”

  “Whatever the case, I want you to open it.” She stands and rushes to the tree, returning to hand me a package.

  I’m ridiculously nervous and anxious to see what this woman wanted enough to use that card when she stubbornly won’t use it. I open it to find a pocket watch inside. “Read the engraving on the back.” When I turn it over, I read: A great man is always willing to be little.

  “It’s that quote that your father—”

  “Repeated often,” I say, the quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson one that my father spoke often when I was growing into the man I am today. “I know,” I say, emotion welling in my chest. “Of course, I know.” I set it aside and pull her to me, holding this woman that is everything to me, as close as I can. “It’s about as perfect a gift as anyone has ever given me but you, you are the best gift of all.”

  I blink back to the present and pull the car into the driveway of the church where I was baptized. The church where my parents were married and where I said goodbye to them both. The church Mia and I were to be married in the first time we were engaged.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mia

  There are no words to describe how I feel when I realize where Grayson has taken us. It’s special. It’s a part of his family, our family.

  “This is where we were supposed to get married,” I say, remembering the day we’d come here to reserve the church and well aware of how much this location means to him. “It’s a special place.”

  “It is indeed,” he says, handing me my coat from the backseat. “You might need that. Hang tight and I’ll come around and help you.”

  He grabs his own as well, a soft, sleek leather jacket that’s as expensive and fine as the man himself.

  Following his lead, I quickly set my purse in the backseat and reach for the door. By the time I’m stepping into the wind of a cold front blowing in, Grayson is opening my door and helping me out. The touch of his hand is firm and warmth slides up my arm, the crackle between us so much more than attraction and sex. The wind gushes again and unbidden, I shiver. Grayson, the gentleman that he always is, steps behind me, and I pop my arms inside. It’s an expensive double-breasted black coat that fits a bit like a dress. I button up and tie the waist, remembering the day he’d given it to me: New Year’s Eve. Only a few days after he’d given me my purse. I’d felt out of my league and confused. Taking the gifts went against my very core instinct. I’d feared, and on some level, I still do, that Grayson would think I could see only his money. I’d feared that he hid behind his money.

  I slip back into the past, into that moment in time.

  Grayson ties my belt for me and when he looks at me, the swell of emotion between us steals my breath. “Grayson,” I whisper. “It’s Chanel. It’s extravagant.”

  “It matches your purse,” he points out.

  “I don’t need gifts. I need the man beneath the money.”

  “It’s from me to you. A gift for the woman who warms my heart. You’re beautiful, inside and out.” And when he says those words, his voice vibrates with so much love that I know that no matter which way my world spins, it will always stop right here with this man.

  Grayson shuts my car door, jolting me back into the moment, and then steps to my side, his hand settling possessively on my lower back. We stare at the church, white with wooden shingles and a steeple, like something out of a country romance novel. His parents’ perfect romance novel.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I say, stepping in front of him, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him know how much I mean what I’m saying. “This is where your parents got married. This was where we planned to get married. We have to get married here, not at the lighthouse.”

  His hands settle on my waist. “We should get married at our place. We should make our future our own. I brought you here because I had something made for you before we broke up and this is the place I intended to give it to you.”

  “On our wedding day?”

  “Yes. On our wedding day.”

  “Then give it to me on our new wedding day.”

  “I want you to have it now. You’ll understand why once you see it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvet bag. “Open it.”

  My emotions are all over the place right now, jumping around, pummeling my belly and my chest. This gift was something he picked for me before I left him. It hurts to know that I changed our history. My hands all but tremble as I open the bag and pull out a delicate chain. I hold it up and suck in a breath with the sight of a delicate charm at the end of it that looks exactly like the church. “Oh my God, Grayson.”

  “Turn it over,” he orders softly, his voice radiating with his own emotions.

  I do as he’s commanded to read the engraved message: Grayson and Mia 8-26-18 Forever. The day we were to be married. Tears burn my eyes and a vise closes on my chest. “This is perfect, but I wasn’t. I have so many regrets, Grayson. So many regrets.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” he says, cradling my face. “We both made mistakes, but we’re here now. That’s what matters. And I want you to keep that. But that history between us is a reminder to us both to never to take each other for granted.”

  “Never,” I whisper, and my throat feels like wet cotton. “But I really do think we should get married here. Your parents will be our lucky charm.”

  “I think we need to be our own lucky charms, you to me and me to you. The lighthouse is our special place.” His lips quirk. “We’ll tell our wedding planner better late than never.”

  “Oh God. I don’t know if that woman will take us back.”

  “I’m sure we can convince her.” He motions to the church. “You want to go inside?”

  “Very much. After I put on my necklace.”

  He helps me secure it around my neck and then hand-in-hand, we walk into the church and sit down near the front, where we talk about his mother’s stories of their perfect wedding day. “I want you to have that kind of perfect day,” Grayson says. “I have your dress. They delivered it the week after you left.”

  “I told them to cancel it,” I say, remembering that call with brutal clarity. I’d barely held it together and burst into tears when I’d hung up.

  “I forbid them from cancelling it. I wanted desperately for you to come back and wear it. You still can. Or any other dress you want. A new location. A new dress—”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I love that dress. It’s the dress.”

  “But does it remind you of the break-up?”

  “No. It reminds me of how perfect we were and are.” I cover his hand with mine, thinking of something he said to me about our mistakes, about our desire to be the impossible. “I don’t want to try to be perfect anymore. I want to revel in how imperfectly wonderful we are. You are the glue that holds all my broken pieces in place. You make me whole again.”

  He brings my hand to his lips, and when he looks into my eyes and lets me see all his broken pieces
, all his pain, and whispers, “As you do me,” I can almost feel the world shrinking around us. “New wedding date,” he says. “August 26th, 2020.”

  “The same day we were to be married last year. Because we’re embracing all our broken pieces,” I say.

  “And making us whole again.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mia

  My fairytale engagement weekend slams to a halt shortly after Grayson pulls the Porsche into the airport and parks. An SUV parks next to us, a vehicle I recognize as belonging to our security team from Walker Security. This leads me to the assumption that they’ve been following us. Of course, they have. They’re supposed to protect us and the façade of being here and beyond the reach of the hell waiting on us back at the city is just that: a façade. The Walker staff were discreet, but they’re watching us, they’re protecting us from the press and who knows who else. I mean, of course, we need protection. A man I knew well just held a gun to my head and is now dead. A pinched feeling in my chest has me reaching for my door and shoving away my thoughts.

  Grayson catches my arm and when I turn to look at him, his expression is tender. He strokes my hair behind my ear, and despite how familiar this action has become, his touch that incredible mix of electricity and calm that defies reason. “You okay?” he asks, his gaze searching my face.

  The question is proof of just how intuitive this man is with me, how connected we have always been. It’s why I was shocked when I thought he had cheated. It’s why I should have known better. “Yes,” I say. “Yes, I’m good. I’m engaged to you again. How can I not be good?”

  “Considering the circumstances,” he says, “easily. If you’re having second thoughts about going back, we can stay.”

  “We can’t stay. You have a company to run and I have new staff to help welcome.”

  “We can make it work,” he assures me.

  “No,” I say firmly, taking his hand and kissing it. “As much as a part of me wants to stay, I want the bad behind us, all of the bad.”

  “You’re sure?”