More Than Enough (More Than Series, Book 5)

by Jay McLean

  “That’s it,” she says, glancing up from her phone and toward the large concrete building. The sign out front says “Banks Wedding” so I switch off the truck.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Mayhem?”

  “From your mom?” I say incredulously.

  “Yeah. You’re right.”

  I face her. “You ready, Hudson?”

  “Let’s do this.”

  Apart from the seating areas and the table containing the buffet of catered food, the place is empty. Floor to ceiling concrete. More glitter gets thrown when we walk in, followed by a pie at my face—one that Riley licks off.

  “Riley!” Holly squeals.

  Riley rolls her eyes. “Oh Doctor!” she moans.

  Holly’s eyes bug out of her head.

  I’ll make it up to her, I promise myself. Maybe with a grandkid or ten.

  We sit, we eat, we laugh, and we love, surrounded by the people closest to us.

  The wedding cake is comprised of individual cupcakes with single candles on them. And just like the time I gave her twenty wishes, she takes her time, her gaze lifting before each blow, thinking hard about every wish.

  I remember watching her the first time and thinking she was amazing—that after everything she’d been through she still managed to have something to look forward to. But now I look at her—into her clear gray eyes and I see everything. Everything. Hopes, dreams, plans for our future. I take her hand and motion to the last candle. She smiles, right before her eyes drift shut. Her chest rises with her intake of breath, and she makes her wish. When she’s done, she looks up at me. “I wished for you,” she says.

  “You already have me. Heart and soul, remember?”

  She winks. “Yes, I do.”

  “So what do you think?” Holly says, her hands flipping through the air.

  “It’s a beautiful reception, Mom,” Riley tells her.

  Holly laughs, shaking her head. “You haven’t worked it out yet?” she asks, spinning a slow circle.

  I stand tall next to Riley, my hand on the small of her back and my ears and eyes taking in everything at once. I look for the guys and do a quick head count—just in case one of them is off creating some mayhem. They’re all here. So are the girls. So are all the other guests.

  “I’m confused,” I mumble.

  Logan laughs. “You look it, too.”

  I scowl.

  Another pie in my face.

  “Quit it with the fucking pies!” I snap, wiping my face.

  Lucy chuckles as she high fives Jake. “Those pitching lessons came in handy!”

  Dad grunts.

  Silence fills the room.

  He and Holly step toward us, almost in sync. I cover my face. “What’s wrong with you?” Dad murmurs.

  “Pie.”

  “No Pie,” he says.

  I drop my hands. “So?”

  He lifts a set of keys, dangling them in front of me.

  “Another car?” Eric yells. “Giraffe, Dad! I got a frickin’ giraffe.”

  “Shut up,” Dad yells over his shoulder. “It’s not a car.”

  “We have a house,” Riley says, and I look down at her. She looks as confused as I feel.

  “It’s not a house,” Holly tells her.

  “I’m so confused,” I say again and duck the pie just in time.

  “Dammit!” Mikayla huffs.

  “It’s the building,” Holly says. “It’s your wedding gift from Mal, Eric and I.”

  “The building?” Riley says, looking around.

  “I’m so—”

  “For your dang garage!” Dad yells, his patience fading. He takes a breath. “For you to open your own garage, son. Holly, Eric and I—we covered the first year’s lease on the building and all the equipment and machines you need to get started.”

  “Oh my god,” Riley whispers, taking the keys from him. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted. “Babe.”

  I switch my gaze from her to Eric, now smiling like a mankini-wearing Cheshire cat.

  “But I have a job,” I mumble, because I don’t know what else to say.

  “Had a job,” Lucy’s dad’s deep voice booms.

  I look at him.

  “Now you’ll be contracted for maintenance on the forty-five trucks in my fleet.”

  “And all the trade-ins we get,” Mark, Cameron’s step dad, says.

  Jake’s dad laughs. “And every time my wife’s car decides to be a chicken, we’ll be taking it in.”

  Riley hands me the keys. “Riley’s House of Fixing Cars! What a great name,” she sings.

  I shake my head, a little in disbelief and a little in hell fucking no.

  “So what are you going to call it?” Holly asks.

  Another fucking pie in my face.

  I wipe my mouth, a smile forming as I look up at Jake—his arm around Mikayla’s shoulders. He’s the only one who knows that owning a garage was a dream of mine. And until today, that’s all it was. An unreachable dream. He smiles wider, matching mine, and nods once. I look at my dad, standing in front of me, his eyes proud. Then I clear my throat. “Mayhem Motors.”

  I tap Dr. Matthews on the shoulder. “May I?” I ask him.

  He nods, then kisses Holly on the cheek.

  I take Holly’s hand in mine and settle the other on her waist, bringing her closer to me. I’d never really been one for dancing, especially slow dancing, so our movements are more swaying from left to right than anything. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my mouth to her ear. I’m sure this wedding was not at all what Holly had in mind the night I asked for Riley’s hand in marriage—the same night I bled my heart out to her and admitted to still seeing Dave. She’s kept all my secrets. Always has. Always will.

  She pulls back slightly, her hand on my chest as she looks up at me. “This is what you and Riley wanted?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “If you’re happy, then I’m happy. But I’m also not stupid, son,” she says, smiling wider as the last word leaves her.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Mom.”

  Her eyes instantly fill with tears, her head slowly shaking from side to side. Her smile falters, so do her movements. “I’m proud of you, Dylan.”

  “I know, Ma’am.”

  “You do?”

  “You wouldn’t trust me with your daughter if you didn’t believe I was worthy of it. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” I reach up, wiping the tears flowing down her cheek. “I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For many things. For looking at me the way you do. For getting me when no-one else did. For creating a girl so flawed and so perfect.”

  “Well,” she says, rolling her eyes and sniffing back her sob. She makes light of the moment, because anything else would make her fall apart. “It wasn’t easy. But like you told Riley. Sometimes you need to have nightmares to appreciate the dreams.”

  “You helped make both our dreams a reality, Ms. Hudson. Without you—”

  “When?” she cuts in.

  “When what?”

  “When did you get married?”

  My shoulders tense, just for a moment. “Two days ago.”

  Sixty-Three

  Three days earlier

  Riley

  I keep my eyes on Dylan while I strip out of my clothes.

  He stands in front of me, already free of his, and steps forward, taking one of my hands in his, the other holding a glass jar with a single letter inside it. “You ready?”

  I grip his hand tighter and inhale deeply, switching my gaze from his clear blue eyes—the same blue as the lake—to the edge of the cliff. “I don’t know.”

  “We don’t have to do this,” he murmurs, his finger on my chin forcing me to look at him. “If you’re not ready, we can wait… or we don’t ever have to do this.”

  “I want to,” I whisper, my eyes now trailing down his body, past his board
shorts, to his bare feet. “I want to do this with you.”

  Our steps are slow as we climb the cliff. He never lets go of my hand. I never let go of my fear. We stop at the top, at the clearing that brings back too many memories. I freeze, wiping the tears off my cheek. Dylan turns to me, his eyes instantly on mine. “Where is it?” he asks, and I point to the tree where Jeremy’s plaque sits below.

  He leads me over to it, only releasing my hand so he can squat down in front of it. “Your life is your legacy,” he reads out loud. I kneel next to him, ignoring the pain from the rocks beneath my weight. “It makes sense.” He looks at me. “You were his life… and now you’re his legacy.”

  I sit on my heels and wonder why the hell we chose to do this. In theory, coming here seemed like the perfect idea. But now… “What’s wrong?” Dylan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “It’s dumb.”

  “So tell me anyway.”

  “I feel like I’m… I don’t know… rubbing you in his face.”

  He chuckles lightly.

  I slap his arm. “I told you it was dumb.”

  He scoots further away from me. “It’s not dumb, Ry. I’m laughing because it’s exactly how I thought you’d be.”

  My eyes widen. “Really?”

  He nods, a sad smile pulling on his lips. “Remember what I told you, Ry. It doesn’t have to be either/or with us.”

  “I know… but it’s different now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to be your wife, Dylan. It has to be different.”

  He sighs before looking down at the jar in his hand. “You don’t think I thought about all this before asking you to marry me? I know who you are, Ry. I know where your heart lies and I know that a piece of him will always be with you. It doesn’t change my love for you, and unless you let it, it won’t change the way you love me, either.” He leans forward, his hand on my cheek and his lips on mine. When he pulls back, he smiles again. Not the same sad one he showed earlier, but a smile only I’m privy to. “Can you give us a minute? I need to have a man to man chat with the kid.”

  I hold my breath as I nod and stand up. Then I walk to the edge of the cliff, where I sit, my eyes on the horizon and my heart spread wide. Fragments of it lay in the bottom of the lake and the rest of it—the majority of it—is up here with me.

  There are no words, no amount of unwritten letters to ever describe the emotions that built from the moment we drove up the winding road, to the moment we got out of the car and stripped out of our clothes—to this… the point in my life where I share everything with the two people who have shown me more than enough love to last a lifetime… no matter how short that life was or will become.

  I don’t know how much time passes before Dylan’s footsteps approach, the loose gravel crunching beneath his feet. “All done,” he says, sitting next to me.

  I look over at the tree, the plaque and the jar in front of it. “Did you say what you needed to?” I ask him.

  Dylan nods, then he shifts until he’s sitting behind me, his legs on either side and his arms around my waist. “Are you looking for something?”

  It takes a long time for me to come up with a response. “Not looking so much as appreciating.”

  He kisses my shoulder. “Appreciating what, babe?”

  I turn to him, a smile already in place. “My reality. Your calm.” I motion to the horizon and place my hand on his chest. “It’s all here.”

  We sit on the cliff, waiting until the sun turns the sky an eerie orange before standing up, our hands locked as we take a few steps back. “You ready, Hudson?”

  I nod. “I’m ready, Banks.”

  We run.

  We jump.

  We fall.

  Deeper.

  Harder.

  In love.

  Dylan

  We spent an hour or so surrounded by the warmth of water, her arms and legs around me as we floated in the very place that created her grief and introduced her to heartache. I held her while she laughed, while she cried, and while she loved. And when it was time, she looked up at me, smiled her perfect smile, and said, “I’m ready.” And I knew she was.

  Really. Truly. Ready.

  And me? I was ready the moment she said yes.

  We towel dry and don’t bother getting dressed before we start the long drive through the night and into the early hours of the next morning, where we find a hotel, book separate rooms and spend the night apart. Because even though we may not be doing things the “right” way, there are still some traditions she wants to hold on to. And whatever Riley wants, Riley gets. Even if it means spending the entire night texting each other while she’s in the next room.

  Riley: I miss you. Come bacccccck.

  Dylan: You wanted this, remember. But hey… if you’re lonely. You know where to find me.

  Riley: Are you naked?

  Dylan: Give me two seconds.

  Dylan: Now I am.

  Riley: LOL! You work fast.

  Dylan: Are you coming?

  Riley: No. I should stick to my plans. Sorry I made you get naked.

  Dylan: I didn’t get naked. I’m eating cake.

  Riley: Why would you say that then?

  Dylan: You think I don’t know you, babe? You were never going to come in here.

  Riley: You better be waiting for me tomorrow.

  Dylan: You better show up.

  Riley: I love you, Banks.

  Dylan: I love you more, Hudson.

  Like so many nights in my past, I don’t sleep. I can’t. But this time—it’s not because of the nightmares. It’s because of the dreams. I lie awake, dreaming of our future and all the absolute possibilities. I picture her smiles, her laughs, her insecurities and her sadness—and I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life… I want to have all of her. I want to have it all.

  I wait until the right time before I get dressed and stand tall in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It’s been a long time since I’d worn my dress blues.

  My eyes focus on the Purple Heart medal attached to my jacket. Until today, it’d sat in its box. I never looked at it long enough to study it. I didn’t feel worthy of it. Today, I finally do.

  * * *

  The sun beats down, the grass dry beneath my shoes. I stand tall, my head lowered, my trembling fingers causing my hat to shake in my hands. “You nervous, son?” the celebrant asks. He’s old, but licensed, and the only one we contacted who was able to do what we wanted in the time we wanted it done.

  “Yes. Sir,” I tell him, switching my hat in my hands so I can rub my sweaty palms on my pants.

  He smiles and nods, then looks around us, rocking on his heels. “Beautiful day out…” he murmurs, and I return his nod. “Not as beautiful as her, though.” He points to my left, where Riley’s stepping out of a town car, pulling out the train of her dress.

  For a second, I regret our choice to make this moment private. It’s not right that only myself and the man standing next to me are lucky enough to witness her looking as beautiful as she does. Her veil does nothing to hide the power of her smile when she spots us waiting for her. She thanks the driver, who closes the door after her.

  She’d kept the dress a secret, not wanting me to see it until this moment. She picks the train of her dress off the ground and starts toward me. Every step closer, the air becomes harder to breathe through, until she’s standing in front of me—her hair loose from its knot, running past her shoulders to the lace of the top of her dress. A string of tiny buttons run down the front, between her breasts down to her waist, where her dress flares out, the fabric spread a few feet behind her and nothing, nothing, has ever felt more right, more real, more raw than every single emotion coursing through me.

  “Hi,” she says through a shaky breath.

  I place my hat under my arm and take one of her silk covered hands in mine, her other hand too busy gripping the glass jar. “Riley, you look…” I have no words t
o complete my thoughts.

  “So do you,” she says, her head tilted, her smile just for me.

  “Are we ready?” the celebrant asks, and we both nod, not once taking our eyes off each other.

  And just like all those times I’ve said goodbye to the people we love, the words he speaks are generic. The feelings are not.

  We say “I do” and kiss for the first time as man and wife and a moment later, we’re alone. Just me, Riley, and hundreds of fallen veterans, none more important than Davey O’Brien. She’s the first to break our stare, looking down and between us at the white granite marker with his name on it. She squats down, her legs hidden behind her dress and places the jar next to his marker. She runs her glove-covered fingers over his name and whispers, “It’s good to finally meet you in person.”

  I laugh, because any other reaction would be too overwhelming. I sit down next to her, my knees raised, my elbows resting on them. “You wanted to be in my wedding, so here we are.” I take Riley’s hand. “Davey O’Brien, I’d like you to meet my wife, Riley Banks.”

  Epilogue

  Jeremy,

  Sometimes I think about what it’d be like to meet you. Not the kid version of you I met years ago, but the version of you now. Crazy, I know, considering where you are but I can’t help it. I imagine walking into a bar or a party, holding Riley’s hand and you being there. You stand taller when you see us—or in Riley’s case—feel us, because you know as much as I do that it’s her presence that has heads turning. Not her looks, or her voice, just her.

  I wonder what you’d say to me, or what I would say to you—or if we’d even acknowledge each other. And then I picture Riley… what she’d be like. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as clear as I do her.

  She’d be looking down at her feet, all awkward-like and she’d probably let go of my hand… not because she’d be embarrassed to be seen with me, but out of respect for you. And you’d smile at her. The same way I would.

  And that’s how I know that we’d get along—you and I—there wouldn’t be any awkwardness between us because we have one thing in common and, at the end of the day, it’s the only thing that matters.