Defiance of the Heart (Book 2)

by Monica James

  “Tomorrow?” I know I said I didn’t want to wait, but tomorrow…wow. But when I look at London and think of everything we’ve been through, he’s right. “This is crazy.” I laugh, running my fingers through his soft stubble.

  “The best stuff is,” he replies, not missing a beat as he nuzzles into my hand.

  “Okay, I’ll marry you…tomorrow.”

  He pauses, peering at me with nothing but pure tenderness in his eyes. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.”

  We seal our agreement with a tender kiss in a place forever marred as ours.

  The City of Angels and I have always had a love/hate relationship.

  Growing up, I couldn’t wait to escape to someplace where no one would know my name. When I left, I went someplace I thought was better because the grass is greener and all that. But coming back now, I feel fortunate; fortunate to have lived the life I’ve lived because experiencing the hardships has made me appreciate who I am.

  And that person is the woman who will soon marry the man she’s loved for as long as she can remember.

  True to our word, London and I left New York and caught a red-eye to LA. Too excited to sleep, we went to work right away, organizing our wedding. We agreed on something small, and after much discussion, we decided to get married at city hall.

  I didn’t need anything elaborate. I just needed the man I loved to say, “I do.”

  As much as we had hoped to get married as soon as we arrived, we sadly had to wait five days because they only performed wedding ceremonies on certain days. The wait hasn’t turned out too bad, though, because it’s allowed me to organize all the things I never knew I wanted—like wearing white as I say my vows.

  Chloe’s mom, Sienna, offered to help me find the perfect dress, and I accepted because this wedding was missing something—and that was the mother of the bride.

  It was no surprise that when I told my mother about me getting married, she begged me to reconsider. She said she understood that London was now a part of my life but wished I would slow things down. We had just started dating, but she didn’t understand that London had been a part of me for years.

  When I made it clear this wedding was happening with or without her, she sadly opted for it to be without. I respect her decision, but to know neither her nor my father will be at my wedding was upsetting. But London is in the same predicament. His parents not so politely declined, his mother stating she would rather go blind than see me become a Sinclair.

  “Try these on,” Chloe happily says, hunting through the racks at her mom’s bridal boutique.

  The last time I was here, I was fleeing out the back door. To be fair, I was marrying the antichrist, so it was no surprise trying on a dress I would wear to become Mrs. Lincoln O’Toole in had me almost ripping it into shreds.

  Today, I feel calm. I’d even go so far as to say I feel excited.

  Chloe holds four glitzy dresses up high, not wanting the extravagant trains to drag on the floor. I told her simple, but there is no such thing when Chloe is involved. Though I humor her because she’s proven to be an amazing friend.

  “Sooo…” she draws out as I reach for the dresses and head to the dressing rooms. “I know you said you didn’t want a bachelorette party, but—”

  “No buts,” I warn, waving my finger high in the air.

  She zips it for now.

  I step into the changing room and hang the dresses onto the hooks. I can already tell I don’t like two, but the others aren’t too bad. Stepping out of my jean shorts and tank, I reach for dress number one. It has a plunging neckline, and after I slip into it, I realize just how much plunge there really is.

  It’s a boho design, and when I move to examine how the tight-fitting dress looks from the side, I blanch as the high slit shows off a little too much skin. The lace edging is really pretty, but at this rate, I’ll be flashing my girly parts to anyone in a fifty-mile radius.

  This dress is definitely a no, but I part the curtain very dramatically and lean to the side, batting my eyelashes. My leg and boobs are out and ready to par-tay. “What do you think?”

  Chloe and Sienna are waiting outside the change rooms, and when they see me, and I mean, really see me, their eyes widen. “Wow,” Chloe finally says. “That’s one way to get London’s attention.”

  Sienna tugs at the gold locket around her neck. “I have no idea how that came to be in my store. These local designers send me one-offs…I can see why.”

  “Next.” Chloe twirls her finger in the air. I don’t argue because she is certainly pushy when it comes to wedding planning.

  When I venture back into the changing room and see my appearance, I can’t help but laugh. Even though the gown could be a wedding dress slash stripper outfit, it’s kind of fun to try it on. As I finger the beautiful lace on the next dress, I finally get it.

  Marrying the person you want to be with for the rest of your life makes all this wedding stuff fun. The “bride high” as I once called it has nothing to do with the prettiest dress or biggest cake but everything to do with the person you’ll be sharing those firsts with. I can’t wait for London to see me in my dress. And I can’t wait to do all the corny stuff like feed each other cake.

  I never thought I’d be a…blushing bride, but I am. I’m glowing. I suddenly can’t wait to try on my next dress.

  The moment I slip it from the plastic, I know it’s “the one.” It could be all these gushing bridal hormones talking, but when I step into the gown and see the long, flowy chiffon skirt, unexpected tears sting my eyes.

  It’s an A-line shape with a close-fitting lace bodice. The scattered diamantes catch the light and send tiny rainbows across the dressing room. The neckline is sheer fabric that continues upward to form a second higher neckline. The beading is stunning.

  It’s backless and comes into a V just above the small of my back. A white ribbon sits around the waistline, adding shape. There is no train, but it pools beautifully around my feet. It’s elegant, tasteful, and absolutely gorgeous.

  As I brush my hands down the soft material of my skirt, my engagement ring contrasts the crisp whiteness of the dress. I stand and stare at myself in the mirror. I’m a bride.

  “What’s taking so long? Do you need help?” Chloe asks, her hand gripping the curtain, poised and ready to live up to her title of maid of honor.

  This time, I don’t.

  “No, I’m okay.” I sniff, rubbing the apple of my cheeks in hopes of erasing my obvious tears.

  However, when I step out and meet Chloe and Sienna’s eyes, we’re all done for. “Oh, my goodness…Holland,” Sienna gushes, covering her mouth with her hand. “That dress was made for you.”

  I look at Chloe because her opinion means the world to me. When she bursts into tears, no words are needed.

  Her tears set mine off, and Sienna joins soon after. We stand together, crying happy tears, and if this were anyone else, I would tell them to pull it together, but weddings, holy shit…who knew I cried at weddings.

  “If you don’t buy it, I will.” Chloe laughs and cries all in the same breath.

  “I love it. Thank you, Sienna.” We’re all raccoon-eyed and lost in the magic, and I suddenly miss my mom. I remember how excited she was when we were here last. It kills me we can’t share that excitement once again.

  Not wanting to ruin the mood, I smile. “Would it be completely awful if I went barefoot?”

  Sienna shakes her head and gently reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s a motherly gesture, and it’s what I need. “No, it would be perfect.”

  And she’s right. This is my perfect—it’s the imperfections that make you appreciate the perfection.

  I’m staying at London’s house, which I suppose will be my house too.

  The thought still freaks me out, but when I walk through the front door and am greeted by him cooking dinner, shirtless, I forget all weirdness because a girl could get used to this.

  I need a minute to process w
hat I’m seeing because it’s still so hard for me to believe that in just a few days, we will be married. I knew he would cause a tidal wave, but I just didn’t expect that wave to swallow my world whole because that’s what he is—my world.

  From the outside, our lives are so different. I’m the hotshot attorney, and he’s the tattooed bad boy who owns a bar. But regardless of this, we fit. We always have. I think back to when we were kids and how even though he made my life hell, he was still the only person I was excited to see.

  I’m truly a masochist.

  “Everything okay?”

  His voice is my anchor. “Yes, everything is perfect. Whatcha cooking?” I ask, venturing into his domain.

  I’ve come to learn that London is an amazing cook, which suits me just fine because I’m an amazing eater.

  He smiles, showing off his culinary skills as he flips an omelet. “Just something easy.” The salad and homemade garlic bread look far from easy, but this man does everything with precision.

  “Do you have to work tonight?”

  “Nope, so sit your pretty ass down.” He points at the kitchen counter where he’s set it with tableware. A single red rose sits between the settings. How did I get so lucky?

  I kick off my shoes and decide to check some emails before we eat. Dave isn’t back yet, but the good news is Nancy pulled through. It’s a miracle, the doctors said, but her recovery will mean Dave won’t be back for a while.

  Once we get married, we will head back to New York for a little while so I can work and London can too. We still haven’t decided what to call the bar, but I have no doubt we will think of something which will encompass our relationship.

  Tending to the bar will be a full-time gig because it’ll need to be gutted, but London said that was half the fun. I’m not sure how long we’re planning to stay, but at some point, we will have to think about where we’re going to call home.

  With Emily, it makes sense for us to live here, but the fact I haven’t heard a peep from Lincoln leaves me to wonder what comes next. I’ve told London he needs to take a paternity test, and that our next step would be talking to Belle.

  He liked that idea as much as I did. But for him to legally adopt Emily, Belle will need to be involved.

  It seems foolish that, in light of all this, we’re getting married, but it’s because of the crazy that we need to do it. We both need the stability in an unstable world.

  I instantly curse my thoughts, though, when I open an email from city hall. “No,” I groan, scanning the email, hoping there is some mistake. But there’s not.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I wait until I finish reading to break the bad news. “City Hall emailed. There’s been a mix-up with dates. Our date has been pushed back four weeks.”

  “What?” he says, mouth parted in confusion. “That can’t be right.”

  I pass him my phone so he can read the email himself. “How can they double book?”

  “Some computer glitch,” he replies with a shrug.

  “So much for tomorrow.” It’s difficult to keep the disappointment from my tone because something I didn’t even know I wanted so badly has just been changed to a later date.

  “Hey.” He rounds the counter and spins the stool so I’m facing him. I don’t want to sulk, but goddamn, why can’t we catch a break? “It sucks, but we’ve waited this long, so what’s another month?”

  He’s only saying this to make me feel better. I know he’s disappointed too.

  “I love you.” He rubs over my ring, a habit he’s formed since the moment he put it on my finger. “Nothing will stop us from getting married.”

  We really need to stop saying shit like this because when his cell rings, it just cements the fact the universe will do everything to prevent us from saying, “I do.”

  London peers over his shoulder to see who is calling. We both see that it’s Belle. “Answer it,” I say, gesturing with my chin to his ringing cell on the counter.

  This weirdness will eventually fade, right?

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  Wanting to give him some privacy, I attempt to leave, but his hand shoots out, and he grabs my bicep. I stay put.

  Even though I can hear her talking, I can’t make out what she’s saying. When London’s face drops, though, I assume it’s not good. “What the fuck, Belle? How can you even say that? She’s my daughter too.”

  He begins to pace, tugging at his hair, a sure sign something is up. I watch, biting my nail, wondering what’s going on.

  I only get bits and pieces from the call, but when London spits, “She will be coming to our wedding if she wants to. That’s her decision, not yours,” I have a pretty good idea that yet another hurdle stands in the way of us getting married.

  Unable to stomach this any longer, I get up silently and leave the room. London doesn’t even notice I’m gone. I amble up the stairs and make my way into the bedroom. This is my happy place as I only associate happy memories with it.

  When we finally surrendered to one another, I thought the pain was over, but it appears it’s only just begun.

  Opening the glass door, I stand out on the balcony and sigh, peering into the star kissed night. One could be fooled into thinking that life is as perfect and serene as the sight in front of me, but the waves crashing along the shoreline prove otherwise.

  Out here in the open, I feel so insignificant—my problems are a mere drop in the ocean—but as a shooting star flashes across the horizon, I can’t help but wonder if this is the universe’s way of saying this marriage is a mistake.

  Leaning against the railing, I let my mind go blank as that prospect is one I won’t accept.

  “Holland?” Whenever he uses my name, I know something is wrong.

  “Hey,” I reply, unable to look at him as I focus on the moonlight casting translucent shadows on the water’s edge.

  “I’m sure you heard the gist of it, but Belle doesn’t think it would be wise for Emily to be at the wedding. That it would confuse her somehow.”

  “At this rate, there won’t be a wedding.”

  We’re both quiet because in the span of a minute, our plans have just turned to shit. London stands beside me, appearing to need the stillness as much as I do.

  “I love it up here,” I whisper, lost in the beauty. “Seeing all this”—I sweep my hand outward, not referring to merely one thing, but to it all—“makes me believe that anything is possible.”

  My ring catches the moonlight, highlighting the depth to my words.

  London reaches for my hand and draws my fingers to his lips. He kisses them. “Anything is possible…you saying yes is proof of that.”

  As the moon hides behind a lingering cloud, a shift can be felt in the air, and I turn to look at the cause of that electricity. “Fuck City Hall. Let’s get married here. The stage is ours.” He gestures to the sandy white beach below us.

  “Here?” My brows furrow together in confusion.

  “Yes, why not? All we need is someone to marry us. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.”

  “But—”

  He places his finger to my lips. “No more buts. I am done waiting. I want nothing more than to call you my wife.”

  “And you my husband,” I offer, unable to keep my joy at bay.

  As the moon comes out of hiding, nothing has been clearer. I wanted to get married where this all started, and I just got my wish.

  “Let’s do it, Princess, and this time, nothing will stop us.”

  The fact Belle has just forbidden his daughter from attending is cause for delay, but as he wraps me in his arms and whispers sweet nothings into my ear, I promise to change that. Emily will be coming to our wedding and in the same vein of the words of the man I’m going to marry…nothing will stop us.

  Or rather me.

  This isn’t one of my finest moments, but there was no way London would have given me what I wanted.

  Dinner was wrapped up and put in the fridge becaus
e after receiving blow after blow in the span of five minutes, both London and I had lost our appetites. We were excited at the prospect of getting married sooner rather than later, but the fact Emily was forbidden to attend did put a damper on the idea of saying “I Do.”

  London said he was going for a walk. I knew he needed to clear his head, so I kissed him goodbye, and the moment he was out the door, I raided his house. I was on a mission to fix this, and the only way I could do that was to talk to Belle, face to face. She is the key after all. It’s time she plays her part.

  I found her address written on an emergency contact sheet for Emily’s school. The note I left for London said I was going to visit Chloe to talk about the wedding. I didn’t want to lie, but this was something I had to do.

  I jumped into his truck and entered Belle’s Beverly Hills address into the GPS.

  On the entire drive there, I recited what I wanted to say. But the more I practiced, the more tongue-tied I became. I gave up and instead focused on not having a heart attack.

  It didn’t take long, and when I arrived, I parked London’s truck down the street, not wanting her to see me and lock me out. After some deep breathing, I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts and knew it was now or never.

  As I peer at Belle’s enormous white house, I wonder if this is the home she and London shared together. It appears homey. If these walls could talk, what tale would they tell?

  I doubt my anxieties will ever settle, so I take one step and then two, and before I know it, I’m standing on Belle’s porch. A sensor light switches on. There’s no turning back now. I decide to knock, not wanting to wake Emily by ringing the doorbell.

  There is movement from inside.

  I peer into the star painted heavens and exhale. The door opens, and it takes me a moment to gather the courage to look at who stands before me. But I know it’s her. Her floral perfume transports me back to when we were kids, to when we were friends.

  “Ho-Holland?” Her stumble discloses her nerves.

  “Hi, Belle.”