I’m completely dumbstruck as she walks toward the altar. I caught a glimpse of her when I came to get Theo for the ceremony, but nothing prepared me for this. Her dress hugs her body, accentuating all of her curves. There is the slightest hint of cleavage—just enough to drive a man crazy—and it falls to the floor in a waterfall of pink. I’m slightly shocked at how modest the dress is, it’s not what I expected Jillian would pick for her wedding day.
When Peyton takes the first step, and the silky-smooth skin of her leg is revealed every thought about modesty goes out the window. The slit is cut ridiculously high on her thigh. It would be nothing to slip my hand inside and straight to her pussy. With every step she takes, I feel a possessiveness rising up inside me. Every fucker in this room is staring at my wife, cocks hard for what’s mine.
It takes all of my self-control not to snarl like a wild animal and throw her over my shoulder and carry her upstairs to my room, lay her out on the bed, and fuck her senseless. I close my eyes and take a steadying breath. The moment I open them, they unerringly find hers. I expect her to be avoiding my gaze, but she’s looking at me with heat and… Longing?
Surely, it’s just my imagination.
Has to be.
The music changes, announcing the bride, but I still can’t pry my eyes away. Then the officiant is speaking, and I know I should be paying attention, but I’m entranced. Peyton’s gaze never waivers from mine. I’m brought back to reality when Theo whisper-shouts at me for the rings. Peyton’s cheeks flush pink when she realizes we’ve been caught staring. She avoids looking at me through the rest of the ceremony, except for the quick side-long glances she throws my way. I can’t help smiling every time she looks, and I feel like a million bucks when her blush returns and her lips quirk up into a small smile.
Two hours and what feels like a thousand pictures later, we make our way to the reception. Peyton and I are, once again, sat side by side at dinner. I thought for a minute that she would demand the seating arrangements be changed, but she sat quietly beside me. Though, this time, her quietness isn’t because she’s ignoring me. No, she’s studying me from the corner of her eye and surreptitiously watching me.
The dinner seems to be over in a flash, and it’s time to cut the cake and make our toasts to the bride and groom. I’ve never been the romantic type, and the speech I prepared reflects my ineptitude. As I look down at my wife—my wife—my words come easily.
“I had a whole speech prepared for this toast, but it no longer feels right to talk about how Theo wet the bed until he was nine.”
Everyone laughs at this, but teasing Theo is no longer my goal. Looking at how genuinely happy he is sitting there beside his bride, knowing that he did everything in his power to give Jillian the wedding of her dreams, I’m flooded with guilt at denying Peyton a day like this. She deserves the wedding she’s always dreamt about, not a quickie wedding with a cheesy Elvis impersonator.
“Call me jaded, but I’ve never put much value on big fancy weddings or romance in general. This weekend has opened my eyes in so many ways.” I pause, looking down at Peyton as she nervously chews her bottom lip. If things weren’t so fucked up between us right now, I’d caress her cheek and let her know there isn’t a reason to be nervous. Hopefully, she can see the sincerity in my eyes.
“But now… Now I can see why it’s important. It’s about giving the woman you love what she wants. It’s about making her happy no matter what. It’s about stepping into the future with the one and only person you want to grow old with. It’s the start of forever.”
I’m talking directly to Peyton, and from the tears shimmering in her eyes, I know she knows. I get caught up in watching her and almost forget that I’m standing in front of a hundred people who are waiting for me to finish my speech.
I clear my throat and raise my glass. “To Theo and Jillian, may your love be ever-lasting.”
___
Peyton is standing on the edge of the dance floor watching Theo twirl Jillian around. She’s smiling, her whole face lighting up at the sight. She looks absolutely breathtaking. I want nothing more than to have her in my arms, smiling at me with as much love and adoration as Jillian has for my brother.
I make my way through the crowd of people, stopping just behind Peyton. I’m instantly surrounded by her sweet honeysuckle scent. My cock responds to her nearness, but I rein in my desire because now isn’t the time.
The song ends, and more couples move onto the dance floor. Peyton’s shoulders sag, not enough for most to notice, but I do. She went from practically effervescent to holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and I hate that I’ve played a part in making her feel that way.
“Dance with me, beautiful.” I meant it as a question, but it sounds like a demand. She turns her big doe eyes on me, indecision warring in her mind. “It’s just a dance, Peyton. Please,” I add.
She gives me a little nod, and I lead her to the dance floor. The song is a slow one, so I take her into my arms, holding her closer than is entirely necessary, but she doesn’t push me away. I count it as a win, small as it may be. We dance in silence through one song, then the next. As the third song starts, Peyton pulls away slightly and looks up at me.
“Kingston.”
She says my name so quietly that if we weren’t so close, I wouldn’t have heard her. The way she’s looking at me is almost painful. There is so much turmoil in her gaze. I’d give anything to take away all of her doubts, but I don’t know how. The only thing that will do that is time and the only way I can have time is if she gives it to me.
“Peyton,” I say with reverence.
“What are we going to do?” she asks.
“Give me a chance. Give us a chance.”
I cup her cheek with one hand, still holding her close with the other as we slowly move to the song. She closes her eyes and presses her face into my hand, seeking the comfort I’m offering.
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“I know, sweetheart. I’m scared, too,” I reply honestly.
It’s the truth. She has the power to give me everything I’ve ever wanted or to take it away. I’ve never let myself be vulnerable like this with anyone, but I have to do things differently with Peyton. I need her to know exactly how I feel and that I am serious about her—about us. Our marriage might have started out in a less than desirable way, but I want it more than anything.
“What are we going to do?”
She repeats her earlier question, but I sense that she’s not truly looking for an answer. So, I do the only thing I can; I pull her closer as we dance.
As soon as our dance is over, Peyton disappears with Tammy.
___
I haven’t seen Peyton since our dance and I know she’s avoiding me. I’m frustrated that she ran, but I can understand. She’s overwhelmed and scared about what happens next. She doesn’t believe that we can build a relationship. She’s ready to give up before we’ve even gotten a chance, but I’m not about to let that happen.
“Kingston, what are you doing hiding out over here?” my mother asks.
I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “I’m not hiding.”
She makes a disapproving sound—the same sound she makes any time one of her boys is being an idiot. I know the sound well. I also know the sound precedes a lecture. I look around for a way out, but I’m stuck.
“You can’t lie to me,” she chides. “Just like you can’t hide from me. Moms see everything. Now you tell me what is going on with you and Peyton.”
I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes like a temperamental teen. I should have known that this confrontation was coming. She’s not lying when she says she sees everything. That old saying about having eyes in the back of your head is true with her. We were never allowed to get away with anything as boys. Why this would be any different, I don’t know.
“Nothing is going on with Peyton.” The words fall flat even to my own ears.
Shaking her head, she responds exact
ly as I expected. “You’re full of shit, Kingston Jeffory Barrett.”
At that I smile, mom always has a way of cutting straight to the quick. How do I tell my mom that I fucked up epically with a woman she considers her own flesh and blood? The disappointment will be worse than any anger she could possibly throw my way. I debate on what I should tell her and what I should keep to myself. I must take too long because mom crosses her arms over her chest and gives me the look. You know the one—the spill-now-or-you’ll-rue-the-day-you-were-born look.
“We eloped after the rehearsal dinner.”
I decide to just start with the worst because I’m in for a world of hurt either way. I brace myself for a deluge, but she’s oddly silent. She’s simply staring at me. Maybe she’s dumbfounded, or she could be trying to come up with the most creative way to beat me senseless. I’m floored when she throws her arms around me and squeezes me tightly.
“Thank God!” she says with enthusiasm. “I wondered when you kids were going to get your heads out of your asses. You’ve been in love with that girl since high school and she’s been head over heels for you just as long.”
I gently push her away, shocked at her reaction.
“Mom, she doesn’t want to be married to me.”
She snorts indelicately. “Of course she does, don’t be an idiot.”
“Seriously, she wants an annulment,” I say morosely. “She was drunk and vulnerable…” I trail off, hating the truth of that statement. I feel like a grade-A dick.
“Well, you’ll just have to change her mind then won’t you?”
I spy Tammy entering the room without Peyton. She rushes over to Jillian and Theo, talking in rushed whispers. Theo shoots me a sympathetic look and I know that whatever Tammy is telling them isn’t good news.
I give my mom a kiss on her cheek and excuse myself without explanation. Tammy looks up as I approach, and to say her look is scathing would be an understatement. I’ve thoroughly pissed her off. I like that she’s so protective of Peyton, but that’s not going to do me any favors.
“Where’s Peyton?” I ask, cutting straight to the chase.
When Tammy just gives me the evil eye, Theo speaks up. “She’s going home.”
“What do you mean she’s going home?”
Tammy rolls her eyes. “She wants to get as far away from you as she can, asshole.”
“Tammy,” Jillian says shocked at her vehemence.
“I’m sorry, bro,” Theo tries to play the mediator. “I’m sure she just needs some space.”
I pull out my phone and dial her number. It rings straight through to voicemail. “Peyton, sweetheart. Call me, please.”
“When is her flight?”
Tammy smirks. “About five minutes ago.”
“Fuck!” I roar, running my fingers roughly through my hair.
“Kingston…” Theo calls after me as I storm away, but I ignore him.
Chapter Eight
Peyton
I ran.
I’m a complete and total chicken, but the temptation to fall into Kingston was too much. If I had stayed, I would’ve ended up back in his bed, or worse I would’ve given him my heart. I can’t trust myself around him. Not while I’m so mixed up inside. Especially not after that dance and the pleading look in his eyes when he asked me to give us a chance.
Us.
Could there really, truly be an us? That’s the million-dollar question.
It’s just after three in the morning when I finally get back to my apartment. Flying coach on the red-eye was definitely not my idea of fun, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I managed to snag the last seat available. Of course, there was a two-hour layover in Dallas, but again, beggars can’t be choosers. The next flight out was hours later, and I couldn’t risk Kingston figuring out that I was leaving without a word.
I drop my purse on the floor and barely make it to my bed before I crash. I’m still wearing my maid-of-honor dress and ridiculous heels, which brokered a few sidelong glances in the airports, but I was in a rush to make my escape. In fact, I only grabbed my purse before high-tailing it out of there. Tammy walked me to the entrance of the hotel and promised to take care of everything.
I’m asleep within seconds.
The persistent buzzing of my alarm wakes me up hours later. I swat at the blasted thing, satisfied when it hits the floor, but the buzzing doesn’t stop. I sit up in bed, confused. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I realize it’s my cell phone vibrating on the hardwood floor. I flop back on my bed. Avoidance seems like a great idea right about now. When the phone vibrates again, I cringe knowing I can’t put it off forever.
I scoop up my phone and the other items that fell out of my purse when I dropped it last night, and head to the kitchen in search of caffeine. There is no way I can handle whatever is waiting for me without it. I start the coffee and decide a shower sounds great. It has nothing to do with my wanting to avoid the twenty notifications I caught a glimpse of before setting my phone on the counter.
Nope.
Not at all.
I stay in the shower until the water runs cold and take extra care brushing my teeth. I even floss, which is something I rarely do, but today dental hygiene seems to be super important. Once I’ve done all the procrastinating I can… I may have reorganized my underwear drawer, made my never-been-made-before bed, and taken extra care with picking just the right set of ratty pajamas to sulk in… I head back to the kitchen where my coffee and phone are waiting.
Armed with a steaming cup of coffee and zero courage, I unlock my phone and scroll through my messages. I ignore all the ones from the unknown number, knowing it has to be Kingston and skip to the two from Tammy.
Tammy (3:30 AM) Let me know you made it home.
Tammy (2:43 PM) Don’t make me call Andy to check on your ass.
Andy is our pervy landlord. I know she’s teasing, but just in case…
Peyton (3:21 PM) I’m home. No need to send a search party.
Three little dots bounce on the screen immediately indicating she’s responding.
Tammy (3:22 PM) Is he there?
Peyton (3:22 PM) Please, tell me you didn’t sick Andy on me…
I stare at the screen waiting. I know she read my message, but she’s taking her time responding. I chew my lip nervously. Finally, the dots appear… then disappear… then appear… and disappear again.
Surely she doesn’t mean who I think she means. I start to panic at the thought that she’s talking about Kingston. That fear spurs me to look at the rest of my messages. I ignore the five voicemails—I can’t handle those yet—and skip straight to the texts.
Unknown (10:30 PM) Where are you?
Unknown (10:30 PM) Don’t leave.
Unknown (10:31 PM) Answer your phone.
Unknown (10:45 PM) Please, call me.
Unknown (10:45 PM) Baby, please.
Unknown (11:32 PM) Peyton.
I swipe at my cheeks, brushing away tears that I shouldn’t be crying. Why am I crying? I keep reading…
Unknown (12:00 AM) I’m coming.
Unknown (3:15 AM) Your flight landed. Please let me know you’re safe.
I can hardly see through my tears now. My heart aches knowing he’s worried about me and my stomach is full of butterflies knowing he’s coming for me. I push it all aside and read the rest of my messages.
Theo (10:00 AM) Tammy hasn’t heard from you and Kingston is losing his shit. Let me know you made it home. If I don’t get him to stop calling every ten minutes your sister is going to divorce me.
Peyton (3:33 PM) Sorry. Got home and crashed. Love you guys! :)
My phone vibrates in my hand… Tammy finally decided to tell me what I already know.
Tammy (3:34 PM) No. Kingston is on his way.
I don’t even have time to respond before there is a knock on my door. I consider climbing out the window and escaping down the fire escape, but I know I can’t run forever. Time to put on my big girl panties and face the music. Whoeve
r said what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas is full of shit because my Vegas is standing on the other side of my door.
I look through the peephole and am shocked to see a completely disheveled Kingston. His normally well-kept stubble is scruffy and he’s still wearing his tux, minus the jacket and the tie loose around his neck. He runs his hands through his hair, and a pang of regret washes through me. The confident, self-assured Kingston is nowhere to be seen. In his place is a wreck of a man who appears to be on his last rope.
He raises his hand, knocking again.
“Peyton… open up. I know you’re in there.”
I take a deep breath and unlock the door. For better or worse, it’s time to face the music.
Chapter Nine
Kingston
My heart pounds in my chest as I wait to see if she’ll open the door. I know she’s home. At least, I hope she’s home.
When the lock snicks and the door slowly opens revealing Peyton’s beautiful face, my breath freezes in my chest. All the worry and roiling emotions from the last twenty-four hours seeps out and relief takes their place.
For several long seconds, we just take each other in. She’s in a faded t-shirt that I recognize as one of Theo’s from high school and a baggy pair of pajama pants. Her hair is in a messy knot on top of her head, and her face is scrubbed free of any makeup. Even though her eyes are bloodshot and swollen from crying, she’s still the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen. The soft look in her eyes fades, and she straightens her spine. I can see her walls erecting around her, and I hate it.
Her pink lips part to say something, but before she can turn me away, I close the distance between us and take her in my arms. She’s stiff for just a moment before she sinks into my hold. I band one arm around her waist and bury my other hand in her hair, cradling her head against my chest. Holding her slight form as close as I can get her.
Just Married Page 6
