Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “You need one of those walkers. Something to hold on to and push.”

  “What I need,” she joked, “is a bevy of shirtless cowboys to carry me around like Cleopatra on a fancy litter.”

  “Ooh, Elizabeth Taylor!” Carmen croaked. “Nice one, Meesus.”

  She guided her slowly to the kitchen and got Meghan seated at the table. “Cereal? A muffin? I made cinnamon swirl. Or a breakfast burrito. Five minutes is all it’d take.”

  It was hard not to wince at the menu of food choices thrown at her morning, noon, and night. Whatever her heart desired would end up on the table in front of her. If only she could work up an appetite.

  “Dr. Sterner wants me to add more calories to my daily intake and suggested yogurt and cottage cheese for breakfast. To help the babies’ brain development.”

  “I know what to do,” Carmen chirped, and within three minutes, a bowl of homemade Greek yogurt with a fruit plate was in front of her. So was a warmed-up buttery croissant from the Jenni Rose bakery alongside a wicked looking pastry shaped like a conch shell with a delicious sweet cream filling. Carmen knew her way around calories.

  She picked, ate, and picked some more. Carmen kept up a steady conversation and kept refilling her tea cup. The diversion was appreciated. Sometimes not thinking about what she should be doing made it easier to actually follow through.

  “Has anyone called this morning? I thought maybe Angie might have more news.”

  Carmen’s brows knitted, and she frowned. “No. Duke spoke to Colonel Davis, which is how we know they’re in Germany. Unofficially.”

  She shut her eyes. It was the unofficial designation that had her worried. And wasn’t Germany where they sent soldiers and overseas Americans with severe injuries? Why the hell couldn’t someone just tell them what the fuck was going on?

  The iPad on a stand that Carmen kept on the counter lit up and buzzed. She looked at Meghan and then leaned over everything to tap the home screen.

  “Security message,” she muttered. “Oh. Just a delivery.”

  Meghan watched the housekeeper respond. With the approval sent, she closed the message screen and let out a short sigh. “I thought …” Carmen murmured.

  Meghan squeezed her wrist reassuringly. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

  She shimmied off her chair and stood. “I’m going to check my email. Did you put those magazines in my office? I should probably weed through that stuff.”

  Pressing her fist into her lower back, she headed into her office as Carmen cleared the table.

  The stack of magazines she had asked about formed a leaning tower that threatened to topple over. Refusing to toss them out, she thought a great way to responsibly recycle was to pass them to the reading and waiting rooms at the Double M.

  “Hey, girl,” she chirped when Zeus came bounding into her office. “Where were you hiding, huh?” She hugged the dog and gave her head a vigorous scratch. “You had a bath, didn’t you?” she asked with a laugh. “You smell like a flower garden.”

  The dog licked her face. All females, human and canine included, liked a good bubble bath, and Zeus was no exception. She had a standing weekly appointment down in Brody’s kennel facility for a wash and blow dry.

  Meghan sniggered. Her damn dog got blow-dried!

  “Morning, Meghan,” Brody called out. “Just dropping Zeus off. Catch you later.”

  “Thanks! Bye,” she yelled back.

  Disappointed that nothing remotely interesting was in her email, she huffed once or twice and lost interest in working. In fact, nothing seemed appealing at the moment.

  She turned off the computer and left the office. Without thinking about where she was going, her feet led her from the kitchen into the front foyer. Carmen was bustling and complaining about how long it took for the delivery to get here.

  The piano called to her, and she answered. Sliding across the polished bench, she put her hands on the keys and inhaled deep. Urging her mind to emptiness, she waited for a few beats and started playing.

  Her fingers danced across the keys. She played “When We Met,” a composition by Ryan Stewart that her husband was particularly fond of. The beautiful melody filled her with peace.

  As she played, the doorbell rang, and Carmen dashed forward to yank open the door. Concentrating on her fingers sweeping across the keys, Meghan was lost in thought when Carmen called out her name. She looked up, and her hands froze midair.

  White roses in an arrangement so large Carmen had trouble carrying it filled her vision. The lone green rose made her heart leap. She stood with a gasp and splayed her hand across her chest and throat.

  When she saw tears flowing down Carmen’s face, she choked out an emotional sob. “He’s coming home! Alex is coming home.”

  With a reverence that touched her heart, Carmen placed the flowers on a table in the center of the foyer. Meghan watched her move the vase this way and that until the placement was perfect. The moment the housekeeper’s eyes met hers, Meghan saw how proud she was of Alex.

  “I told you from the start, Meesus Meghan. Do you remember? I said that Alexander was a good man.”

  She couldn’t breathe and began frantically fanning her face with her hands. “Oh my god, Carmen. He’s coming home.”

  It took a minute to pull it together, and then she clapped her hands. “My phone! I need my phone.”

  With a happy laugh, Carmen dashed into the kitchen and returned with Meghan’s phone.

  Before making any calls, she pointed at Carmen. “Call Ben. Tell him I’m going into town. Tori too. Maybe Lacey. We’ll need a car. And then call the nail salon. Tell them we’re on our way. Oh, and pack some snacks for me, okay?”

  “On it,” she happily boomed. “Call the others.”

  Meghan took a deep breath and watched Carmen march away. They were coming home. The boys were coming home.

  She dialed Tori first.

  Angie checked the time twice. It was coming up on seven o’clock, and nervous butterflies bounced around her insides. She looked down at the strapless skater dress and the sexy heels she’d put on. Her hand went to the nape of her exposed neck and touched the back of her hair. Nothing seemed out of place.

  He’d be here. Any minute. She was sure of it.

  Wetting her lips, she strained to identify every sound, hoping to hear a car pull up outside.

  When Meghan told her yesterday morning about Alex’s silent message, she knew the men would move heaven and earth to get back home as soon as possible. It was Parker’s birthday, which only added extra importance to the timing.

  The sound of a car door slamming made her jump. Laughter followed. Familiar laughter. And then the front door flew open and hit the wall with a loud bang.

  “Honey, I’m home!” Parker boomed. He slammed the front door, dropped a bag on the floor and looked around till he saw her. Fire lit up his eyes. “Get your ass over here, wife, and stick that wicked tongue down my throat.”

  No further invitation was necessary. She squealed and then ran at him like a tackling dummy. At the last second, Angie jumped and wrapped her arms and legs around his waist and neck as she plastered herself to his front.

  He took her in his arms and furiously kissed her, his tongue dipping in when she parted her lips. Their tongues danced as they melted together. The hands holding her ass trembled. A surge of tremendous emotion overcame her when she saw how deeply their reunion hit him.

  “Happy Birthday,” she moaned as he dropped kisses around her lips and across her jaw.

  He reared back slightly and gave her an especially awesome Elvis lip sneer. “Yeah, about that. Now that we’re an old married couple and the honeymoon is officially over, I get the birthday blowjob special, right?”

  “My father will kick your ass for that.”

  Parker chuckled, dropped her feet to the floor, and grabbed her chin. “Your father wants grandchildren. He’s okay with me talking any way I want as long as I put a baby inside you.”

  Sh
e felt the blush start in her feet and move rapidly upward until it exploded on her face. He looked at her curiously but let it go.

  “I prepared a celebration.” With a small wave, she gestured to the decorations and the table set for two in the dining room.

  The pleased look on his face turned to a slow burn. “You knew I’d be here.”

  She took his hand and led him to the table. “Come on.”

  Her husband’s husky chuckle made Angie tremble with need. “Tell me, Angel. Are we working off a script? I don’t want to spoil your plans.” He looked her over seductively and licked his lips. “Speak now, baby girl, or prepare to be the main course.”

  Whirling around, she pouted. “Yes, there’s a script. Now don’t spoil things with your sexy growls.”

  Laughing, he patted her ass and said, “Oh, okay.”

  Serving him dinner like an experienced geisha, she catered to his needs and threw in some naughty angel flourishes, including getting handsy when she put a napkin on his lap.

  Sitting across from him, she watched him in the flickering candlelight. He was a mess—a hot, sexy mess. The unkempt hair and thick beard did nothing to disguise the telltale signs of bruising on his handsome face. Two fingers on one hand were taped together. The dark discoloration of a healing injury was evident across his whole hand.

  An embarrassing tsunami of arousal rushed into her panties. She could practically smell the testosterone oozing from his pores.

  “What’s for dessert?” he asked with a brow-wagging leer.

  “Presents first,” she reminded him.

  Shooing him into the living room, she cleared the table and got ready for the next phase of Operation Birthday.

  She found him arrogantly man-spread across most of the sofa when she joined him. There was a very good chance she was about to self-combust.

  “May the fourth be with you,” she simpered and held out a large wrapped gift.

  He snatched it with a laugh and tore the paper to shreds. The childlike excitement on his face when he held the unwrapped gift was adorable.

  “Wow,” he murmured.

  “Thirty-eight hundred pieces.”

  He blinked and said, “Sorry?”

  “The Death Star, silly. It’s thirty-eight hundred pieces.”

  He was looking at her as if she’d handed over a rare work of art.

  “Wait.” She laughed. “There’s more.”

  She produced a basket full of presents—none wrapped by her—and encouraged his excitement as he tore into a treasure trove of Star Wars crap. He was like a little kid. Joy did a happy dance in her heart.

  When that was over, he chuckled and said, “Okay, What’s next?”

  Angie snickered. “Am I bothering you?”

  “Nah,” he drawled. “I’m just anxious for the birthday BJ.”

  She threw a ball of wrapping paper at his head.

  “I’ve waited four weeks. You can cool your jets.”

  “Let’s open the playroom,” he suggested with his signature panty-melting smirk.

  “Parker, come on,” she growled. “Is it so hard for you to behave?”

  “Wow.” He chortled. “Turning down an offer like that? Hmph. Guess the glow wore off.”

  “Will you please behave and let me do this my way?” She stomped her foot. “You’re ruining my fun.”

  “All right, sheesh.” He grunted. “Bossy much? We’ll have to discuss your predisposition for topping.”

  She put her hands on her hips and frowned. “I’m warning you. Behave.”

  “Okay. My bad.” His hands were up in surrender.

  “I made a cake,” she announced.

  “Nice try,” he drawled with a beefy handed wallop on her butt when he saw what passed for a cake.

  The two-tier cake with the figures of Han and Leia made from fondant on top had little stormtroopers and a mini Chewbacca circling the base.

  “I have one more present,” she told him.

  Handing over her shitshow of a wrapped gift, he eyed her curiously. A half-smile played around his lips. “What the hell is this? Did you have some sort of tape episode?”

  Shrugging the comment off, she excitedly tapped his arm. “Open it.”

  “Settle down,” he softly chided.

  She couldn’t wait for him to see what she got. “Hurry, hurry.”

  He didn’t tear the package apart with his big hands and kept looking at her. She knew he realized something was up and loved that he wanted to perform accordingly.

  The bow sailed through the air and landed on a side table. The long ribbon wrapped several times around the messy bundle went next. There was no way to be gentle with the tape overkill she’d applied, so he gave a rip and caught the object inside before it fell to the floor.

  Her heart began beating like one of her brother’s drums inside her chest. Would he like it? Her gift?

  “What is this?” he asked.

  That he had no idea what he held in his hand almost got him pinned to the floor from an avalanche of kisses. If he’d never been confronted with a little white stick before, she was over the damn moon about it.

  “The box,” she mumbled when words deserted her. “In the paper.”

  He ripped the paper wider and found the crumpled box. It took him a minute, and then he lost his shit. She’d never loved him more.

  His eyes flooded with tears, and he dropped like a rock, going to his knees in front of her. He held the white stick in his hand and gaped at it.

  Angie ran her hands through his mane of hair. “Happy Birthday, my love. You’re going to be a daddy.”

  His arms came around her waist, and he clung to her for long minutes. She ran her hands through his hair and lovingly stroked his head.

  Then he stood, carefully put the plastic stick on a table, and picked her up. He didn’t say a word. She stared at his face as he walked to their bedroom. The tears on his cheeks matched the ones she wiped away on her face.

  In their bedroom, he undressed her slowly, reverently. When she was naked, he caressed her stomach but still said nothing. She’d never known him to be without words.

  Yanking the covers to the foot of the bed, he scooped her up again and gently eased her into the center. She watched through eyes hooded by desire, wetting her lips when his manly chest was revealed. When he was naked and she could see for herself the level of his arousal, she turned to mush.

  They’d made a baby, and her slick talking lawyer husband was at a loss for something to say.

  He made love to her with heartfelt intensity—their bodies in perfect harmony. Passion throbbed in her veins. He kissed her taut nipples and licked them until she cried out. His hands touched her everywhere, triggering a shuddering ecstasy that melted her brain.

  Together, they found a tempo that drove them to new heights. She writhed beneath his powerful thrusts. The degree to which she responded stunned Angie. This was more than sexual desire. He’d claimed her many times as his lover and wife, but this was different.

  A deep feeling of absolute peace enveloped her. She wrapped him in her arms and rose to meet each claiming stroke. He groaned against her ear. They soared to an awesome, shuddering ecstasy. She felt him expand and release inside her in a series of pulsing throbs that threatened her sanity. Angie couldn’t hold back her hoarse cries of love.

  When the emotional storm passed and they were cuddled together, he spoke of his love for her and how everything changed when she gave him a second chance. He thanked her over and over and promised everything she ever dreamed of and so much more.

  “I’ve loved you every day of your entire life, Angel—and I will honor that love until my last breath.”

  She fell asleep relaxed and happy for the first time since they returned from honeymoon.

  Everyone was safe; they could all get back to living their lives and being the happiest they can be.

  Stephanie greeted Cam on the front porch. She put a finger to her lips and said, “Shhhh.” Then she grabbed
him in a fierce hug and kissed his cheek.

  “Dylan is in bed, but he might not be asleep. Lily is snoozing, and Lacey is resting.”

  “Thank you for everything,” he murmured quietly.

  She grabbed his arms and squeezed. “Jason Cameron, you have a beautiful family. You are blessed beyond words. Go see to your wife. She might be the strongest one of all of us. You can be damn proud of how she’s behaved, shugah.”

  Then she bounded down the steps and climbed into the car door Ben held open. He waved them off and went inside. Familiar smells assailed his senses. The scent of lavender buds from a bowl by the front door entered his system, and he detected warm vanilla wafting from the kitchen. The lights were low, but a light in the bedroom hallway lured him forward.

  At Dylan’s bedroom door, he paused and listened. Hearing no sound, he silently cracked open the door and peeked inside. His son was asleep in his toddler bed with the partial safety sides. He went and stood next to the bed and stared at the child he and his Ponytail had made.

  His heart surged with love. Bending over, he whispered, “Daddy’s home, big guy,” and then kissed his cheek.

  In his and Lacey’s bedroom, he found his beautiful wife curled up on the lounger underneath a large window. Her hands were tucked beneath her chin and a pink blanket covered her legs. Nearby sat a small bassinet.

  He peeked and saw his baby daughter lying on her back, sucking a thumb with an occasional snuffling sound. She was a tiny miniature of her mama. Gently scooping her into his hands, he held her against his heart.

  “Daddy’s home, princess, and I missed you so much.” He brought her up to his face and pressed kisses onto her small face.

  Lily’s baby squeaks and wriggles filled him with happiness. He glanced toward his sleeping wife and found her watching him with smiling eyes.

  “Welcome home, Daddy.”

  His smiled broadened until his face hurt. Kissing his daughter one last time, he lay her gently back in the bassinet and went to sit by his wife’s side. She scooted over enough to give him room to sit.