Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1)

by Unknown

  Joanne and Blake both chose my dress. It is a replica of Cleopatra’s gown, made with white chiffon and delicate silk draped in layers on the back and a beaded neckline with a crystal-beaded belt above the waistline. Blake instantly screamed the words yes when Joanne pulled it out of the bridal consultant’s hands at Kleinfeld’s. I can tell from the angry expression on the woman’s face that she wanted to escort them out of the store.

  I lay my palms gently over our three little blessings, embracing them with love and gratefulness. I’m almost sixteen weeks pregnant. Thank God for the abundance of material covering them up. I express my gratitude, thanking God and the universe for working their magic.

  I peer through the drapes in Michael’s bedroom. The ranch stands in a whirl of activity. It’s Valentine’s Day, six forty-five in the evening. My stomach is filled with nervous butterflies. I’m waiting excitedly with anticipation. In fifteen minutes, I’ll be walking down the aisle.

  Tiny little lights and vivid, colorful floral arrangements and lush greenery cover every inch of the gazebo. Exquisite white lilies and red rose bouquets adorn each chair, along with softly candlelit lanterns leading down a path of rose petals to the altar, where Michael and I will stand before our guests reciting our wedding vows.

  Scattered within the garden are soft spotlights, illuminated lamps, and luminescence candles nestled in enclosed glass. The barn is decorated in a Valentine’s theme with red and clear lights, red bows and white tulle. Caterers are shuffling in and out of the tent, preparing for the reception. The music from the orchestra echoes through the garden. Everything appears magnificent from up here, like a fairy tale.

  Lights ornament the long, tree-lined road leading to the mansion. The valet staff works diligently to park the overflowing stream of vehicles progressing in. The estate stands embellished with a munificence of Valentine’s décor.

  The chairs are nearly occupied with guests. Michael and I specifically requested a small reception of one hundred and fifty. Although his dad, Jacob, tried to keep the list short, unfortunately, many family members and business associates got word about our wedding on my show.

  Michael almost had an aneurism after hearing the news broadcasted on the air to millions of viewers, and I came close to having a heart attack. I have a nagging suspicion Sean wanted to get back at Michael for his little list of demands. My boss has always been a fair man, and he knew enough on his own not to send me off across the country due to my condition. According to his wife Jennifer, being dictated to doesn’t seem to sit well with him.

  The guest list started out small and now it escalated to five hundred and sixty people. Unfortunately, this created a bit of tension between Michael and his dad. Michael’s over-protectiveness over my health and the babies had him on edge from the moment we found out about the triplets. He thought being encircled by so many guests would overwhelm me.

  His father understood wholeheartedly. Regrettably, thanks to my boss going public, it was out of his hands. Jacob swore to Michael he would watch over me as a hawk watches over their young. If he even detected the least bit of fatigue on my face, he would haul me off to rest. I had to laugh. Not only do they resemble one another, but they also share the same personality.

  I placated Michael and convinced him I am in my second trimester and bursting with energy. The doctor confirmed my diagnosis, and Michael finally surrendered, but pledged a promise. If I so much as appeared pale, drained, or tired, he would say his goodnights to our guests and carry me off.

  I jump out of my skin when Blake calls out my name. I turn away from the window to see Blake and Jacob standing near the doorway, both dressed handsomely in their black tuxedos and burgundy ties, matching the girls’ dresses.

  “Ariana, you’re . . . radiant.” Jacob chokes out, all teary-eyed. He walks over and gives me a gentle hug this time. “I’d give you my bear hug, but I don’t want to mess you up.”

  “Thank you,” I say, swallowing hard and fighting the urge not to cry.

  “Ariana, you look like a goddess, love,” Blake adds and kisses me on the cheek.

  “Are you ready to become Mrs. Michael Grayson?” Jacob asks with elation.

  I nod, and both men extend their arms. Originally I had planned for Blake to give me away, but I thought it would be just as special to have Jacob walk down the aisle with us. I needed to do something special, especially after all the hard work he and Maria put into planning this wondrous day. He was bursting with joyful tears.

  We walk out of Michael’s bedroom, arm and arm, down the marble staircase. Flashes of cameras blind me momentarily as the photographers begin snapping pictures. Michael hired extra security to keep the paparazzi from crashing the wedding. We do, however, have our television crew setup to tape our wedding. Apparently our fans wanted a glimpse of one of their favorite TV personalities getting married to one of America’s wealthiest bachelors. This came as a shock to me when our studio received an abundance of mail and e-mails from our viewers requesting a sneak peek. Well, Sean and I couldn’t turn them down. Michael didn’t approve of the idea at first, but after inviting him to the studio to read a few of the letters, he agreed enthusiastically.

  The girls are screaming and wowing me, which makes me blush from all the attention. We reach the grand foyer, and Joanne, my maid of honor, comes barreling toward me, dressed in her long fitted navy blue gown, which she chose for herself and the girls to coordinate with mine. Mandy, Jackie, and Cheyenne wear matching gowns in a burgundy color.

  “You are glamorous.” She chokes on her words. She kisses me gently on the cheek. “Your headpiece is amazing, and the veil . . . it’s breathtaking, girlfriend.” She swallows as her eyes glaze with tears.

  “Thanks, Joanne.” I take a deep breath, getting all choked up and not wanting to cry. Joanne stayed over one night when I pulled out my mother’s headpiece from one of the boxes I had stored away in my closet. The delicate open headband is dramatically detailed with rhinestones and Swarovski crystal flowers, giving you the impression of cascading vines. The veil is embroidered with beaded scallops on the borders, which rests behind my French twist.

  The orchestra and pianist begin to play “Trumpet Voluntary” by Clarke. Mandy and Willie progress arm and arm, followed by Jackie and Josh, Gabriel, Michael’s nephew and his Aunt Cheyenne follow. Joanne walked down by herself and will be paired up with Michael’s best man, Trent. Yes, I had something to do with that. Michael planned to ask Josh, but after everything he’s done for me, I convinced him to ask Trent.

  The music piece blends to the wedding march. I shiver, and the men flanking me—Blake on my left and Jacob on my right—each give me a gentle squeeze with their strength and love. The guests begin to stand, and all eyes are focused on me. Everything evaporates the moment I lay eyes on Michael, looking exquisite in his Armani black tuxedo, white shirt, and silver tie. His eyes gleam with pure love, passion, and affection, the love I’ve dreamed of for so long.

  I’m trying to walk faster, but my two escorts are slowing me down. I can’t wait any longer. I stop halfway down the aisle and kiss them both on the cheeks. I say thank you and run to Michael, holding my dress in one hand and my bouquet of lilies in the other. I hear gasping and comments coming from our guests.

  “You go, girl, run for your man.”

  “Catch her, Michael.”

  Michael entraps me in his arms as I jump on him, embracing him with all my love and anticipation.

  “Whoa, easy, sweetheart.” He laughs, spinning me once around and places me down. “Ariana, you’re beautiful, like a breath of fresh air.” He flashes me his drop-dead, sexy smile.

  Everything else becomes one big blur. We go through our vows, and before I know it, I hear the words. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  I bite my lower lip, waiting anxiously for our mouths to join. His sweet, soft lips press against mine, sending tingling sensations throughout my body. I go from reality to a dream state, floating on ai
r. I’m Mrs. Ariana Grayson.

  Our guests stand up, and loud claps, whistles, and cheers erupt from the crowd. Michael takes hold of my hand, and we walk down the path covered in rose petals, leading us, our bridal party, and our guests into the tent.

  The band begins to play. This is our first dance as husband and wife. Goose bumps form over my entire body when I turn to see who is singing our song, “Thank You for Loving Me.” My knees go weak. I’m pressed flush against Michael, and he chuckles. I gasp and have to blink several times for this to sink in. Jon Bon Jovi himself is singing.

  “Michael,” I squeak out. “How did . . . how did . . . ” I’m rendered speechless, in a state of shock. “How did you get Jon Bon Jovi to sing at our wedding?”

  “I did the architectural drawings for his home as my final project for college, pro bono. When I called him and asked if he would do the honors of singing our song, he said yes, only if we accepted his presence as a gift. Are you surprised?”

  “Oh, Michael, yes, thank you, thank you, thank you,” I squeal out, kissing him over and over.

  Once he finished singing our song, I rush over to Jon Bon Jovi. I wrap my arms around him, kissing and hugging him so many times Michael has to pry me off him.

  “Oops, sorry, I lost myself,” I say, and Jon laughs at my enthusiasm.

  “You most certainly did, Ariana,” Michael voices with a hint of jealousy.

  I glance at Michael. “I’m sorry . . . you know you’re my true love.” I bat my lashes at him, and he is back to smiling again.

  I go back to conversing with Jon Bon Jovi. I still can’t get over he’s here, at my wedding, singing our song. “You were wonderful, thank you so much,” I say almost wanting to jump up and down with joy.

  “You’re quite welcome. It was a nice surprise to hear from Michael. When he told him about his upcoming marriage to his true love, and asked if I would sing your wedding song, I couldn’t say no, especially since the song was one of mine.” His eyes could melt the Antarctic continent.

  “Thank you, I appreciate you coming on such short notice and rescheduling for our wedding. I hope you can stay for the duration of the reception and enjoy yourself.” Michael gestures to the party.

  “I will thank you. I wish you both a long, happy, and healthy future together,” Jon offers to both of us and gives me one last kiss and hug, with a handshake for Michael.

  I finally land on earth after being suspended on the clouds from my wedding ceremony and Jon Bon Jovi singing at our wedding.

  A gentleman in his early forties approaches us. “Michael,” he calls out with an English accent.

  Michael turns, and a big grin appears over his face. “Mark, I’m happy you made it.” Michael says, smiling.

  Oh my God, this is his partner. I never had the pleasure of meeting him. The man is on the constant run overseeing the sites of their hotels. I’ve always pictured him to be much older. He’s handsome. Built like Michael and his brothers with short blond hair and brown eyes.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I’ve never seen such sparks in your eyes,” Mark comments and looks at me.

  “Mark, this is my wife, Ariana,” Michael says, introducing us. “Ariana, my partner, Mark Anderson,” he says proudly, and Michael’s eyes beam brightly at Mark. You can see they’re more than just friends. They’re like brothers.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Mark. I’ve heard such wonderful things about you and how you mentored Michael. You’re remarkable,” I say, shaking his hand.

  He embraces me gently, kisses me on both cheeks, and pulls me away. “You’re more beautiful in person than on television. I don’t know what possessed you to fall for this big goon,” he comments, chuckling.

  “Watch it,” Michael orders, placing his arm around my waist.

  “He knows I’m kidding. You couldn’t have ended up with better gentleman. I can see how much he loves and adores you. He’ll cherish you always,” Mark says.

  I glance at Michael, and my heart begins to bubble over. I face Mark and say, “I feel the same way about him. Thank you for coming. It was such a pleasure meeting you.”

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” Mark embraces me one last time with a kiss. He turns and gives Michael one of those big men hugs and pats him on the shoulder.

  “Well, Mrs. Grayson, are you ready?” The time has arrived to go public with our news. Michael and I go over to our master of ceremonies and request we have a few minutes to make an announcement to our guests.

  “If I can have everyone’s attention, please,” Michael announces. Voices lower to whispers and all eyes are on us. I spot Blake, Francis, Jonathan, his girlfriend Jasmine, Sean and his wife Jennifer sitting at the same table to the left. Their eyes fill with happiness. I can’t wait to see the shocked expressions on their faces.

  “Ariana and I want to thank you for joining us on this special evening.” Loud applause erupts in the tent.

  He places his palm over my small belly bump. “I’m sure most of you already know we are expecting a child. However, what you don’t know is that Ariana and I are going to be blessed with triplets.” Michael and I both watch everyone’s reactions. A few eyes grow wide, faces pale, and several jaws drop.

  We are hit with silence, but after the initial shock wears off, whispers echo around the tent until a big YAHOO comes from . . . none other than Jacob, Michael’s dad. Everyone in the room claps and screams out “congratulations”, but leave it to Joanne to yell out... “You must have a machine gun stored in those pants.” The whole crowd bursts out laughing, leaving poor Michael and me embarrassed as hell. I can hear Michael growling.

  Epilogue

  Our little precious bundles of joy decide to come into our lives on July seventh, one of the hottest days in New York. We named our daughter Lara Marie Grayson, after their aunt and Maria. As for our two gorgeous identical sons, one is named Jacob Michael Grayson and the other Anthony Blake Grayson, after my father and Blake.

  Jacob had three bedrooms transformed into nurseries at the Ranch the day after he found out about his upcoming grandchildren. He had faith one day those rooms would be filled with his dream. Who knew the three rooms would have been occupied at one time!

  Blake became emotional on me and broke down, tears running down his face after finding out we named one of our sons after him. The man walked on air. After attending our marriage ceremony, this gave Blake a lot to think about, and he realized how short life can be. So when they legalized same-sex marriage in New York, Blake took the big plunge and asked Francis to marry him. Of course, Francis said yes, screamed it out more likely.

  Trent and Joanne have been dating since our wedding, and she’s not spilling any details about their relationship except, and I quote, “It’s rocking great.”

  Cupid’s arrow hit another one of our guests that evening. Jacob, Michael’s dad, fell head-over-heels for Jackie. She didn’t have a prayer; she was captured by his magnetism immediately. They’ve both accumulated a lot of frequent-flyer miles these past few months. I have a funny suspicion I’m going to lose my makeup artist.

  As for Michael and me, we are still adjusting to the triplets’ crazy schedule. Thank God for nannies. Our home has been completed, except for the pool house. Michael says we’ll worry about it next summer. Right now our focus is the triplets and their necessities, times three.

  Michael did get his Lego set I purchased for him. He was so excited, and like a little kid, he quickly tore open the box and built it in one night, with the help from his father and brothers’. He has it displayed in a glass case, in his office.

  We did get to take that trip to Europe after all. We celebrated our honeymoon in Italy. But when I want to think of forever, all I have to do is look at my wonderful husband and our three beautiful children. Forever lives in love, and I’ve found more love than any woman could hope to have.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  J.S. Andrews lives in the outskirts of New York City. She has three children, a grandch
ild and a wonderful son in-law. When she's not dreaming about traveling to every part of the world with her family on her private jet, racing cars, watching polo, or walking on the red carpet, you'll find her with her children, or behind her e-reader engaged in the latest romance novel.

  However, her true craving is writing, which she has only shared with her computer until now, when she completed her first novel Wounded Birds. She is working on the second book of The Grayson series called “FIND ME”

  www.jsandrews143.com