He paused. “I met this beautiful, intelligent, caring woman who flat-out turned me down. My overinflated ego was mortally wounded and what did I do? I blackmailed her. I found any and every speck of dirt I could dig up and used it to get what I wanted. Completely disregarding what it would do to her.” Hunter’s self-degradation was a new twist, not something Gabi enjoyed seeing even if all he said was true.
“My inner selfish bastard took complete advantage of the situation and I brought you into my bed. Then I nearly got you killed, not once, not twice, but three times, Gabi. All for what? Pride? Money?” He ran out of words and lowered his head.
Her head started to bob. “You’re right . . . about all of it.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Except about bringing me into your bed. My eyes were wide open then. Did you seduce me? Maybe. I’d like to think I share some of the credit for that time.”
“I should have stayed away.”
“I like to think I made that impossible.”
A ghost of a smile passed over his lips. “I’m so sorry, Gabi. Sorry for forcing this marriage, for putting your life in danger.” His eyes lingered on her cast. “For bringing you so much pain. Giving you what you’ve wanted since we met is the only thing left for me to do.”
She picked up the divorce papers a second time. “You said this isn’t what you want.”
“It isn’t,” he said.
She looked at him and asked, “What do you want?”
“I want the impossible. I want to go back and do this over. I want to meet that beautiful, intelligent, caring woman again and slowly bring her into my world until she can’t see hers without me in it. I want to treasure her every day of the week, every month of the year. I want her to know that because of her, I want to be a better man . . . the kind of man that deserves her. The kind of man she wants for all her tomorrows.”
Moisture gathered behind his eyes as he spoke while hers spilled over.
This time when he placed a hand on her leg, she didn’t pull away. “I want to hear her tell me she loves me because she does, not because she’s forced to. I want to ask her to marry me, and stand before a minister or priest . . . a rabbi for all I care, and watch her walk down the aisle and freely join her life with mine.”
“Hunter . . .”
He picked up the papers and dropped them again. “I know this is a backwards way to go, but divorcing you and trying again is the only way any of this can happen. I will forever question our life if we don’t do this first.” He scooted closer and placed a hand alongside her face. “I love you, Gabi. I know I don’t deserve you right now, but I’m going to one day . . . God willing, you’ll take me up on my promise for tomorrows.”
Her heart kicked hard as she removed the space between them and placed her lips on his. He melted and drew her close. She opened to the invitation of his tongue and kissed him with her whole being. He loved her . . . wanted forever. And the knowledge of his feelings fueled her passion even higher.
“Take me inside, Hunter. Make love to me.”
He rested his head on hers. “One last time before I move out?”
She shook her head. “I’ll agree to the divorce, because your twisted view makes jumbled sense in my head. But you’re not moving out.”
“But—”
“Marriage is a two-way street, Hunter. Sometimes things go your way, sometimes they go mine.”
“But—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “You want me to sign those papers?”
He nodded.
“Then it’s my turn to blackmail you. I’ll sign if you agree to stay. We can wait on all of the other parts, but leaving me alone in this house isn’t an option.”
He pushed away a strand of her hair. “OK, Gabi. Whatever you want.”
“And one more thing . . .”
“Yes?”
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Six and a half months later . . .
Picking a maid of honor was the easiest decision in Gabriella’s life.
Samantha patted Gabi’s back as she fastened the last pearl on her dress. “You’re all in.”
Gabi turned to the full-length mirror and gazed at her reflection. Pearls and lace . . . crystals and silk . . . the dress belonged on royalty.
Today Gabi felt royal.
“Hunter’s going to have a hell of a time getting this off.”
“He deserves it. Brat moved out the last two weeks. All the stress of a divorce and a wedding and he hasn’t put out once.”
Sam started to laugh and didn’t stop until her eyes started to well up.
A knock on the door preceded a parade of maternity wear. Gwen and Karen were on borrowed time. The Harrison pack flew in with a private physician and a nurse. There was no telling if either of them would make it through the ceremony without going into labor. Meg was just as big, but a week away from her due date. Judy held last place with a month and a half to go. Being closer to Sam than Eliza, Sam was the easy choice of attendant to officially witness her vows to Hunter.
Gabi’s mother pushed into the room, patting bellies as she went. She paused when she saw Gabi in front of the mirror. “You’re the most beautiful bride,” she said in Italian. “Your father would be so proud.”
Gabi kissed her mother’s cheeks. “Thanks, Mama.”
“Let’s not wait long. That husband of yours . . .” Simona stopped herself with a shake of her head. “That fiancé of yours is already pacing.”
Gabi listened to her mother leave the room muttering about crazy daughters, divorces, and weddings.
“OK, ladies . . . do we have everything?” Sam asked.
Karen raised her hand, presented a tiny box. “Something old.”
Gabi let out a long sigh. “Oh, you didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t. It was your mom. She said she wore it when she married your father and wanted your marriage to be as happy as hers.”
The box held a delicate comb to place in her hair. Sam kicked off her four-inch heels, stepped on top of a chair, and attached the clip.
Eliza handed the next box. “Something new . . . and before you ask, I didn’t. It’s from Hunter. He insisted, and everyone here is too damn tired to shop.”
That had the women laughing and holding their bellies. The diamond tennis bracelet captured her breath.
“Well played, Hunter,” she heard Meg say under her breath.
Judy handed the next gift. “Something borrowed. They’re from me. I wore them on my second wedding day to Rick.” The pearl drop earrings were perfect.
“This is why you said no jewelry with the dress,” Gabi said to Sam.
“I’m sneaky that way.”
“Something blue,” Meg said. “For the record, I wanted to give you an early pregnancy test . . . blue for yes, pink for no . . . but I was vetoed.”
“I’m not pregnant,” Gabi said with a laugh.
“The day is young,” Eliza pointed out.
The blue garter was perfect. Sam did the ceremonial placement while Gwen approached last.
“I always give the sixpence for the shoe.”
A what?
Gwen dismissed her pending question with a look. “It’s a British thing, just go with it.”
Gabi placed the tiny coin in the bottom of her shoe with a giggle.
Music started to play outside and the women waddled toward the door.
Sam handed Gabi her bouquet and pulled a strand of hair from her perfectly messy bun. The kind of hairstyle Hunter couldn’t resist.
Gabi looked through the open door to find her brother staring with an open mouth.
“I’ll see you out there.” Sam kissed her cheeks and left the two of them alone.
“My God, tesoro . . . Hunter is a lucky man.”
She took her brother’s hands in hers as he kissed her cheek. “This is what you want, Gabi? You’re not married . . . you can walk away now and—”
She placed a
finger over her brother’s lips before resting her hand on his shoulder. “My life isn’t complete without him. I want your blessing, Val. Completely.”
“You have it. Papa would be proud.”
Gabi glanced at the ceiling. “I like to think he’s here.”
Val kissed her fingers before offering his arm.
The island courtyard had been fashioned for a wedding. A string quartet started the march, and everyone stood and turned her way.
Gabi matched Hunter’s stare, felt his excitement as much as her own as she approached. Dangerously handsome, Gabriella was selfishly claiming him a second time.
Val placed her hand in Hunter’s before taking his seat.
“You’re stunning,” he said once she was by his side.
“You say that to all the women you’re about to marry.”
He kissed her hand. “You sure this is what you want?”
She felt the eyes of everyone watching them . . . listening to their intimate conversation. “Well, since you refuse to step in front of a bus, and I’m not going to let any other woman have you, this looks like the best option.”
They were both holding back laughter as the priest cleared his throat.
Blake tapped Hunter on the shoulder.
Hunter lifted a hand in the air. “One more thing.”
He leaned in. “I love you,” he whispered right before he kissed her.
They turned toward the priest.
“Ready now?” he asked.
They nodded together.
“Dearly beloved . . .”
Acknowledgments
The entire Weekday Bride Series has been a journey from page one of Sam and Blake’s story in Wife by Wednesday. From rejection to the New York Times, Wife by Wednesday and all its amazing readers made me the luckiest romance writer in the world. For every person who helped me to this point . . . thank you!
For bloggers, such as Sara from Harlequin Junkies, to my street team filled with dedicated fans and readers who pimp better than any Sunset Strip “manager” out there . . . I can’t thank you all enough.
I have to thank Crystal Posey, my personal assistant who keeps me sane in insane times. Not to mention your cover art ROCKS!
For Angel/Sandra–My critique partner. I say it in every acknowledgment, I mean it in every breath I take, thank you! You call me out when I’m being lazy in my writing, you make me want to please you . . . make me want to be a better writer.
Jane Dystel and everyone at Dystel and Goderich Literary Management. You are the cornerstone of agents. You set the bar, Jane. Your father must have been extremely proud to have you as his daughter. For me, I say your name with pride. Thank you for being a part of my world . . . in literature and in life.
For my Montlake team . . . time to shout out names. Kelli, my editor, who simply gets me. Susan, who makes the extra effort and works with whatever I throw at her . . . for Jessica who never misses a beat, even with those crazy-ass things on her desk . . . and Thom . . . with your long hair and magnetic smile . . . and your ability to set into action the tools I need to reach readers. For JoVon and Hai Yen and even Jeff Belle of Amazon Publishing who believed in me throughout this series. Thank you.
Now let me get back to Tiffany.
I dedicated this book to you for a couple of reasons. Yes, I lost the bet and had to use your name as a character . . . Tiffany Stone wasn’t a name pulled out of a hat. Funny that I didn’t know you had wicked typing skills until after I sent you that passage about my character . . .
Dedicating this book to you is karma at its best. I would never have met you had this series not taken off. And while I’ve only really gotten to know you well in the past couple of years . . . it reminds me of the last heroine in the Weekday Brides. Gabi might not have known these characters a few years ago, but they become significant now. As you have to me. Thank you for your friendship. It means more than you know.
Now . . . let’s talk about some Holiday Brides . . . shall we?
Thank you readers . . . I’ll be seeing you again . . .
Catherine
About the Author
Photo © 2012 Lindsey Meyer
New York Times bestselling author Catherine Bybee was raised in Washington State, but after graduating high school, she moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the novels Wife by Wednesday, Married by Monday, Fiancé by Friday, Single by Saturday, Taken by Tuesday, and Seduced by Sunday in her Weekday Brides series and Not Quite Dating, Not Quite Mine, Not Quite Enough, and Not Quite Forever in her Not Quite series. Bybee lives with her family in Southern California.
Treasured by Thursday (Weekday Brides Series Book 7) Page 31
