Wedding Belles

by Beth Albright

But I had never been inside Sonny’s home. Was I making a mistake even being here? My palms were sweaty and my heart began to race. What am I doing? I’m technically still married, at least until the paperwork is official. Good girls don’t do things like this.

  Another errant thought popped in my head: Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere. Was I a bad girl now?

  Sonny appeared on the porch. Oh, my, I thought. I would happily learn to be a bad girl for him.

  I smiled helplessly at him, his silhouette big and yummy. He looked like a young Tom Selleck, without the mustache. I was a goner. The sight of him made me want to run to him, melt into his arms where it was safe and satisfying. I got out and shut my car door and walked around to the steps.

  He whistled, and a chill ran up my spine. I felt the bad girl coming on. And I liked it.

  “Hey, beautiful, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Sonny reached out and swept me against him, then kissed me passionately.

  “Mmm—it’s good to see you, too,” I managed between kisses. “But we are on the porch,” I hinted. “I can’t wait to see the inside of your house.”

  He kept kissing me. “Oh, it’s nothing much. I built it myself.” He gripped me around the waist and pulled me even closer. “I like to work with my hands.”

  I giggled lightly, caressing his fingertips as they touched me. “You do have amazing hands.”

  “Well, sweetheart, I’m even better when I have something beautiful to work with,” he said, brushing his fingers up and down my arm.

  I got instantaneous chill bumps. It was after nine o’clock, but I was sure my evening was just getting started. I looked up into his glistening brown eyes.

  He was looking right through me with that sexy grin on his face. I sighed. I had never felt loved liked this. With Harry, it wasn’t ever this deep, this real. I needed this feeling like a drug. How could I ever have walked away from him?

  Standing on the porch of Sonny’s home, I was reminded of a summer’s night many moons ago when we lay in the back of his old red pickup truck and watched the night sky. It was crystal clear and lightning bugs twinkled over his backyard. We counted shooting stars and gazed at Orion.

  Sonny was a lifelong Boy Scout. He was in his element outdoors. I always felt so safe with him. That was the first night he told me he loved me. We were sixteen, but Sonny had a depth to him that made him different from the other boys I knew. I remember being with him on a soggy night on a little dirt road just west of town when we were in our senior year of high school. He saw a baby deer tangled in some old rope in a ditch. The fawn had injured himself trying to wriggle free when Sonny pulled up and got out. He went over to the baby and freed him while I sat in the car and watched. He did this like it was all in a day’s work to him. Like it was nothing. A good scout is never without his pocketknife. He cut the rope and the little deer scampered away.

  Now, years later, I stood on the porch scanning his amber-lit home under the pine trees. It looked like something out of a movie.

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, leaning over to me. “I hope you will find the accommodations quite cozy.”

  “I’m sure I will, Officer,” I said, flirting with him.

  He kept up the playfulness. “Please, let me know if I can make your stay any more comfortable. Your satisfaction is my top priority.” He winked at me and lifted that left eyebrow. He was absolutely the sexiest when he did that.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I said softly, batting my long lashes and letting him know to please, please keep looking at me like he could devour me with one bite. He could do anything he wanted to do to me, all night long, if he kept it up. He knew it, too. I bit my bottom lip, then rolled my tongue over my lips.

  “Don’t you look at me like that,” he shot back.

  I had him. He kissed me softly, then more deeply, his tongue tasting my mouth, then my neck. The chemistry was ridiculous with him. I felt his large hand cup my breast and his mouth slide down inside my silk collar to the flesh of my chest.

  “We should go in, don’t you think?” I asked, breathing heavily against his neck. I knew anyone could be lurking out there, and I wanted to make sure we were seen only when and how we wanted to be seen.

  “I could take you right here, right now,” he said.

  “I know, but I wanna see your place,” I said. “Besides, we’re getting way too, um, relaxed, out here.”

  “If you insist,” he said, still kissing my neck.

  Sonny opened his front door for me and allowed me in first. Such a prince, I thought. Harry had stopped opening my door the minute we got back from our honeymoon. But this wasn’t a show from Sonny. This was ingrained behavior. He was a Southern gentleman. He had opened doors for me even in high school.

  I followed him inside and he shut the door behind me.

  Immediately, I was struck by the warmth of his home. Someone’s house says so much about who they are. His home enveloped me just like he did. I knew I was in trouble. Leaving would be very hard for sure.

  His living room was awash in the glow of walls the color of milky mocha and trimmed in shiny white, extra-wide baseboards and crown molding. Shelves floor to ceiling flanked the doorways and were crammed with books, both hardback and soft, all mixed in together.

  Some soft, vulnerable place inside me twisted, then released. I was really here.

  I walked slowly, looking along the shelves, grazing my fingertips across the crowded unorganized collection. I wanted to explore every nook and cranny of his place.

  “I’ll be right back,” Sonny said. “Make yourself comfy.” He headed off to the kitchen.

  I was fixin’ to have a seat, but my uncontrollable curiosity took over and I headed toward his bedroom, which was just to the left of the kitchen door. I thought I’d only take a peek.

  His room was dark with a cream-colored duvet and crimson blankets. His dark red mahogany dresser had a silver-framed picture of his German shepherd, Bryant, named after Bama’s legendary football coach, Bear Bryant. The coach died after retiring in 1982, and most of the town closed up for almost three days. It was one of those unreal events when you stopped in your tracks the minute you heard the news. Everyone in Tuscaloosa knows where they were the afternoon the Bear died. It was just like Sonny to try to keep a good man’s memory alive.

  Bookshelves lined these dark cream walls like in the other room. But postcards and old photos of hiking trips and scouting knives littered the cubbies. A bay window seat looking out over the front porch was overflowing with mismatched pillows. In the corner stood his trombone, balancing on its case. I was certain that’s how he developed those talented lips.

  An antique tulip sconce light was just outside the bathroom door, beckoning me inside. His closet was just to the right of the door and I found myself touching all of his things, feeling as though I was glimpsing a whole new side of Sonny—the real man underneath the slick detective’s suit. I inhaled deeply, and the scent of him filled me. His work shirts were well pressed from the cleaners, his ties hung around the neck of one hanger.

  I paused a minute, then loosened the buttons on one of his shirts, my heart racing at my bravery. Well, he did say to make myself comfy...

  I unzipped my skirt and it fell to the wood floor. I took off my blouse and pulled one of his old cop shirts off the hanger and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned halfway down. He hadn’t wore one of these uniform shirts since he’d become the chief investigator.

  Bare feet and bare legs, I walked back out into the living room just as Sonny appeared in the doorway from the kitchen with two Baileys Irish Creams in highball glasses. He’d untucked his shirt and looked rather relaxed...until he caught a glimpse of me. He set the glasses down on the side table and walked toward me. He was slow and deliberate. He never took his eyes off me, sauntering across the floor.

/>   He fingered the collar of the shirt I had on. “I do believe I prefer this new outfit to the previous one.” He smiled like a cat fixin’ to eat the canary. “It seems a little more, uh—accessible.”

  “First, you have to catch me.” I ran from him into his bedroom, and he reached down, grabbing the glasses, and chased me. I jumped on his bed, scooching up the duvet and settling into his mound of down pillows.

  He set the glasses on the dresser next to the picture of Bryant, crawled onto the bed and straddled me before taking off his white shirt. He was a big, gorgeous man, with a broad chest and strong muscular arms—every inch the sexy cop fantasy.

  He stretched out on top of me. “I do believe I’ve caught you. What’s my prize?”

  I laughed, loving the feel of his weight on me. “Accessibility. As much as you want.”

  Sonny gave me a wicked grin. “Sugar, that’s an awful lot.” He began kissing me all over my neck and chest, in between the buttons of his old uniform shirt.

  “You still have your clothes on.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He slid his pants off.

  I heard them drop, belt and all, to the wood floor. I wrapped my bare legs around him and pulled him into me. I loved knowing I was in his bed, even if part of me couldn’t believe I was here and was totally shocked at my brazen behavior. The rest of me just reveled in it.

  I was putting a pinky toe outside my predictable box, and amazingly enough, I was feeling like I was home.

  8

  I stared up at Sonny’s ceiling and let out a satisfied sigh.

  It might sound silly, but I like to think of myself as a free spirit. Okay, I know I’m not like Vivi. Few are. But I will take on an adventure here and there. Let’s say I’m a free spirit with a five-year plan. I’m old-fashioned. I’m the girl who loves to have my hand kissed on meeting a new gentleman. And I have always believed I was born in the wrong decade. That was one of the things that first bonded Vivi and me. We loved anything from the turn of the century through the 1940s. When we played dress-up as children in my grandmother Meridee’s basement, we loved to put on her dresses and listen to her old standards, like Cole Porter or Gershwin, before adding several long strings of pearls to our costumes. Then we’d dance. This love of all things vintage is what inspired Vivi’s wedding planning, and the entire reception was set to have a ragtime theme.

  Yes, I was old-fashioned, but I now had proof I was also a girl who could live on the fly. I could be unexpected. I was lying in bed, not in my own house...and not even by myself. And I was wearing a policeman’s uniform! Well, I had been wearing it. The shirt’s current whereabouts remained unknown, but it was definitely my new favorite article of clothing.

  I lay snuggled up next to Sonny, completely satisfied and utterly mussed, my appetite roaring.

  “I’m starved,” I said. “Let’s have dessert.”

  “I just had dessert,” Sonny said. “But I think I know just the thing for you, baby. You still love pound cake?” He remembered from our junior-high days.

  “You know it,” I said, not knowing what he was planning. It was 2:00 a.m. and I mean, really, was he gonna bake a pound cake right this second?

  That would be a yes.

  Sonny sauntered into the kitchen, fastening his pants as he walked.

  The kitchen was small but well-appointed with marble counters and dark oak cabinets to go with the craftsman style of the rest of the house.

  There was a farmhouse apron-front sink in porcelain-white with a sprayer nozzle faucet. The oversized island held an array of cookbooks on the shelves underneath and had an additional sink for vegetables. Was Sonny a chef? Sure looked like it with that setup. I found that really sexy.

  Sonny had prepared a dinner for me but we never got around to it. He wrapped up the steaks he had thawed and slid them back into the fridge. Then, he covered the potatoes and green beans and put them next to the steaks.

  “I’m so sorry I messed up your dinner plans,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? That was the best dinner I’ve had in years. It was delicious,” he said, and winked at me.

  Sonny wiped the countertops down, then opened the stainless-steel fridge and pulled out several sticks of butter and a carton of eggs.

  “Don’t tell me you can make pound cake from scratch, too, on top of your many other talents.” I sauntered around the kitchen, teasing him now that I was back in his shirt and barefooted.

  “I can if you let me concentrate.”

  Outside, it was raining a steady drizzle, and the massive kitchen window was streaked with the sudden condensation. Sonny had the cake in the oven in minutes. He had thrown in a can of 7-Up instead of milk. Meridee made it that way, too.

  “Okay, Officer,” he said to me, “we got about an hour with nothing to do. Need to make an arrest?”

  Sonny put his wrists together and held them in front of me as if to say, Cuff me.

  “Yes, sir. I do need to make an arrest. I’ve heard you’ve been a very bad boy.”

  He lifted me up onto the cool marble of the island and pressed me against him. “I intend to be a lot worse,” he whispered.

  He moved against me as I sat on the countertop, my legs wrapped around him tightly. Heat surged through my body as he kissed me. He slipped his arms around my waist and pulled me up into him, passionately kissing my neck, causing chills to join the heat.

  The showers outside grew heavy, hitting the window harder until it sounded like it was coming down in torrents, adding a little music and rhythm to our passion. Sonny carried me to the couch, my legs still wrapped around his waist, and we made love with the sounds of the storm all around us. Afterward, Sonny looked down at me and smiled.

  “I do love you, Blake. So much.”

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  “I think I’m hooked,” he said, kissing my nose.

  “I know I am.”

  “Let’s go have a drink on the porch.”

  I knew he wanted to talk. And I liked that.

  We stopped by the hallway closet for blankets and went outside to the porch swing. Sonny wrapped us tightly together in cozy cotton quilts I was sure his grandmother must’ve made. It made the cuddling even better.

  “I’ve had fun with you tonight, baby,” Sonny said, snuggling closer. “I enjoy being with you more than I can say. I always have. When I’m with you, I feel like I can come up for air, you know?” He let out a sigh. “You just make me happy, that’s all.”

  I was melting in a cool rainstorm. I gazed up at him.

  Sonny was being serious and that was a rare occurrence. He was a playful person. He found the fun and funny in almost every situation. But in this moment, his deeper side was coming out. I relaxed into him, feeling the wonder of what was happening between us.

  He kissed my forehead and pushed my mussed hair from my face, his fingertips caressing my cheeks. With a gentle touch, he lifted my mouth to his and kissed me softly. His lips were warm in the wet chill of the rainy night.

  “Sonny,” I said, pulling away and looking at him, “I want to stay here with you.”

  “Of course. I sure didn’t plan on having you home in this,” he said, referring to the downpour.

  I bit my lip, hesitating. “No, I mean I want to stay here, like...move in with you.”

  He was terrifyingly silent.

  I died inside. Oh, good, Blake, here you go, jumping the gun with your incessant planning and thinking ahead. Embarrassed, I tried to get up. I couldn’t believe I’d just blurted that out! Here we were having a beautiful night together, and now I’d ruined it by proposing the next step in our relationship that, by his stunned silence, I was sure Sonny wasn’t ready for.

  But before I could make it inside, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back down beside him. He cradled his hands aroun
d my face. “Oh, baby, I would love that. I thought you weren’t ready. That’s the only reason I haven’t asked. I don’t want to push you, but I can’t imagine anything more special than finally waking up with you beside me after all these years.” Sonny was genuinely excited at this prospect, and nothing could have made me happier.

  At that moment, I knew in my heart I would never go back to live in the house with Harry again. He had moved out the first few nights after the big breakup, but he’d recently moved back for the duration of the campaign. We had separate rooms and avoided all extraneous contact with each other, so the living arrangements were totally for show. Even still, it was a difficult setup. Though our divorce wasn’t final, living with Harry felt sort of like a betrayal of Sonny. Here was this man who was giving me the most honest, true and deepest love I’d ever known, and I was forcing us to keep it a dirty secret while I played house with my soon-to-be ex.

  Vivi now had her own full life with Lewis and Arthur at the plantation, so I couldn’t just barge in on her home. But I never wanted to live alone. I wasn’t even sure I could, and everything inside me let me know that living with Sonny was where I wanted to be.

  I was so out of my comfort zone, but I knew it was what I wanted. “It will have to be after the campaign because I promised, but being with you feels so right. What do you think?”

  “You seriously need to ask?” He was grinning as he pulled me into him. “To be able to go to sleep with you in my bed and wake up every mornin’ with you next to me has been a fantasy of mine for longer than I can remember. I’m here and ready, whenever you are.” He kissed me. “Actually, I’m not so sure about the sleepin’ part, but I know you’ll be in bed with me.”

  A damn of emotion broke inside and it was all I could do to hide my tears of joy. I would remember this moment forever. The soaking rain, the night air, the front porch swing and resting in Sonny’s embrace. Nothing had ever felt so right.

  9

  I woke up at Sonny’s happy and rested. He had already left for the day and in his spot next to me was a note and a magnolia blossom.