Do Over

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Do Over Page 8

by Mari Carr


  “Oh my God,” Faith whispered as her two best friends from high school strolled into the room on the arms of Troy’s brother and his cousin, the groomsmen from their first wedding.

  She couldn’t hold back her girlish squeal as she and her two friends rushed to hug each other, all of them crying and talking at once. She hadn’t seen either of her friends in years and she had remarked to Troy on more than one occasion how much she missed them.

  “How did you find them?” she asked, turning to Troy who walked over to greet both women with a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek.

  “Facebook. Jenna showed me how to sign up and use it.”

  Faith laughed at the idea of her anti-technology husband starting a Facebook account. “Amazing.”

  The deejay began playing the wedding march and Jenna handed Faith a beautiful bouquet of daisies, her favorite flower. Troy took her to the end of a strip of red carpet she hadn’t noticed before. At the other end of the rug, a decorated arch had been erected and the minister stood beneath it. They were going to renew their wedding vows. Right now. Here.

  Faith swallowed hard, the beauty of this moment shaking her more than everything that had come before. Troy was offering her the ultimate do over.

  Her bridesmaids and the two groomsmen walked forward, in time to the music, taking their places off to the side. Faith started to step forward, but Troy held her back.

  “Not yet. The best man and maid of honor will lead us in.”

  Faith gave him a quizzical look until Jackson took Jenna’s arm and led her to the front of the room. As they reached the arch, her two grown-up children turned and faced her, both of them smiling widely.

  She looked up at Troy, shaking her head slightly in utter disbelief. “This is the best day of my life.”

  He grinned, then bent forward to rub his nose against hers. “Every day since the night of senior prom has been my best day. I love you, Faith.”

  Pulling gently, he escorted her to the archway and there, under the gazes of their children, their family and friends, they renewed their wedding vows.

  She gasped when the minister kept the exchange of rings part. Jackson pulled a ring on a string out of his pocket and handed it to Troy, who placed it on her finger. It was an anniversary band, large and sparkly and stunning.

  “A more worthy trade,” he whispered. “I’m going to need my jacket back now.”

  She laughed through her tears at his joke. Only Troy could make such a moment so touching…and funny.

  The minister gave Troy permission to kiss the bride and as he did so, the room burst into loud applause.

  The rest of the evening flew by in a beautiful blur and Faith was reminded of Troy’s letter about their first wedding. She knew, like him, there were special moments of the evening she would carry in her heart forever. Beautiful scenes she would always remember.

  Her children standing beside the arch as they walked down the aisle.

  Troy taking her in his arms for their second first dance, the sounds of Billy Joel singing their wedding song, “You’re My Home.”

  Troy proposing a toast to his mother and her father, who’d both passed away since their first wedding.

  A series of tiny pieces that all floated together to create the most magical night of her life.

  Waving goodbye to the last guests in the parking lot, Faith glanced at her watch, surprised to find it was after 1:00 a.m. She’d danced and talked the night away. As she and Troy walked hand in hand to the truck, Faith decided her first wedding hadn’t been half as much fun as the do over.

  “So you were really surprised?” Troy asked.

  “Stunned, shocked, taken completely unaware. Troy, I—” She paused as they stood by the passenger side of the truck. Her mind raced for something to say, some words to express what the night had meant to her.

  He kissed her before she could formulate the first thought. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let her lips show what she was feeling. For several moments, she relished the sincerity, the beauty of his kisses.

  When he pulled away, she smiled. “Does this mean we get to do the honeymoon over too?”

  “Thought we did that last night.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Troy. I want my second honeymoon.”

  He grinned at her demanding tone. “Get in the truck.”

  She laughed at his sudden haste. Climbing in the cab, she giggled as he broke more than a few speed laws trying to get them back to the hotel. Jackson and Jenna were spending the night with her mom and they’d all made plans to have breakfast together the next day.

  Even though she’d seen both of the kids just a month earlier, one of the highlights of her evening had been disco-dancing with them and Troy. She’d truly been blessed with her family and tonight had driven that fact home to her.

  As they drove to the hotel, Faith picked up the photo album and lightly rubbed the cover before opening it and looking at all of the pictures again. When she got to the last letter about their original wedding day, she started to turn the page.

  Troy noticed her actions and placed his hand on hers to stop her. “The rest of the book is empty.”

  She gave him a curious look.

  “I figured we’d fill the rest of it up over the next twenty-five years or so.”

  “So much more to look forward to,” she said.

  “College graduation, Jackson’s and Jenna’s weddings, retirement.”

  She smiled. “Grandkids.”

  He nodded. “I’m sort of looking forward to that the most.”

  “We’ll definitely fill it up.”

  “Here we are,” Troy said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Come on, Mr. Wainwright. I think I promised you we were going to take a little ride.”

  She and Troy raced each other to the hotel room and by the time he had the door unlocked, he’d shed his cumberbund, bowtie and belt. Faith kicked off her shoes as they entered the room before pushing her husband against the door as he closed it behind them. She took charge of the kiss, trying to give him back a fraction of everything he’d given her this weekend. Gripping the top of his shirt, she yanked forcefully, pulling the material hard enough that the buttons popped off and bared his chest to her lips.

  “Jesus,” Troy muttered when she bit his pec hard enough to leave a mark. His hands traveled to the back of her dress and as she covered his chest with love bites, he unfastened the material. Once he’d freed the last button, he pushed the dress down, lifting her away from it and backing her toward the bed.

  “Need you,” he murmured against her lips as her legs hit the edge of the mattress. With a hand on her shoulder, he pushed her down and she fell back with a laugh. Stripping off his pants and shoes, he climbed over her. Rather than remove her bra, he pushed the lacy material down until her breasts popped out. His lips descended and he gave her a dose of her own medicine, sucking and biting the sensitive flesh until she was a squirming mass of hormones beneath him.

  “Sex, now,” she demanded.

  Troy shook his head as he rose, still kneeling on the mattress. “No, not this time. This time, I’m making love to my wife.”

  He pulled her panties off and lifted her until she was in the center of the mattress. Spreading her legs, he took his place in between and she cried out when he placed the head of his cock at her opening and slowly, lovingly entered her. They rocked gently together as they kissed and touched and loved.

  When they came, it wasn’t loud and raucous like a rock concert, rather it was melodious and soothing as a symphony. In a word, it was perfect.

  Taking her in his arms, Troy held her, his chest her pillow as the excitement of the evening gave way to exhaustion. She was just drifting off to sleep when he murmured, “Happy anniversary, Mrs. Wainwright,” against the top of her head. “Love you.”

  “Love you,” she replied.

  About the Author

  Writing a book was number one on Mari Carr’s bucket list, and on her thirt
y-fourth birthday, she set out to see that goal achieved. Now her computer is jammed full of stories—novels, novellas, short stories and dead-ends—and many of her books have been published. A winner of the Passionate Plume, Mari found time for writing by squeezing it into the hours between 3:00 a.m. and daybreak, when her family is asleep and the house is quiet.

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  ISBN: 978-1-4268-9063-5

  Copyright © 2010 by Mari Carr

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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