by Whitley Cox
Her head shook and her body trembled as a muffled sob broke the deafening silence of the room. “I’m scared,” she whispered.
I held her tighter. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe here. The police officers are going to keep you safe. The kids are safe. It’s okay.”
Finally, she lifted her head.
“Let’s move into the other room, shall we?” Constable Griffin said smoothly. “Away from the children.”
Not letting go of Meegan, I maneuvered us out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the living room.
“Don’t let them arrest me, Sam. Please.” Meegan pulled her arms to try to break free, but I held on tight. Her head thrashed, and she whipped it back in an attempt to bash me in the nose. I ducked to the left in the nick of time. “You can’t let them take me!” she screamed. “I won’t go!”
“Shhhh. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
Constable Griffin got her handcuffs out and nodded to me. Gently, calmly, slowly, I released one of Meegan’s wrists. It was quickly shackled. I released the other one and fell back so Constable Griffin could secure the cuffs behind Meegan’s back. Immediately, she started reading Meegan her Miranda rights.
Lifting her head, Meegan glared at me. Her white-blonde hair was a mess around her face, and her eyes were dark and full of contempt.
I took a step forward, meeting her gaze. “We’re going to get you some help. I promise. I’ll call your parents and they’ll meet you at the police station.”
She blinked. And with that blink dissolved the mask of anger. Suddenly she just seemed like this lost and broken woman. Small and fragile and not herself. Had she been herself at all during our time together? Did she even know who she was anymore? I certainly didn’t recognize her. She’d always been hot-headed and self-absorbed, but this erratic, maniacal behavior was new. Maybe it was the pregnancies and postpartum depression that spurred on this change, or maybe it was always there and something else triggered it. But at least now we could get to the root of it all and get Meegan the help she needed.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered. “I don’t like the thoughts I’m having, Sam. I know they’re wrong.”
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. Now that the woman was in cuffs, I wanted her out of my sight, out of my house and the fuck away from my family—for good.
“Let’s go, Miss Cooper,” Constable Griffin said tersely, her hand wrapped around Meegan’s bicep.
Meegan’s throat wobbled on a swallow. “Okay.”
Staff Sargent Palowski reappeared from down the hallway. I could only assume he was taking statements from Quinn and Harper and making sure Harper’s injury didn’t require a trip to the emergency room or an ambulance.
He nodded at me, then Constable Griffin. “We good?”
Constable Griffin nodded back, then faced me. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Wright.”
I showed them out and waited until Meegan was safely in the cop car before I made my way back to the kitchen.
Gemma was on me like a magnet. “Daddy!”
I heaved her up onto my hip. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. Mummy is just going to go to see some doctors.” I glanced over at Harper. Quinn was busy cleaning up the cut and applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit I kept in the bathroom. “Guys, I—”
“No need to apologize,” Harper said curtly. “Mental health is a serious issue. She’s going to get the help she needs.”
Fuck, the woman was perfect. She’d just had a knife to her throat in front of her child, and here she was forgiving the woman who’d held the knife.
“I’m just glad we know who set the fires and Meegan is going to get some help.” She smiled at her sister and thanked her for patching her up before running her hand over the back of Carly’s head and standing up. She made her way through the throng of kids in chairs and came to stand in front of me. “Thank you. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t come and saved the day.”
My jaw tightened, and a dull, throbbing ache filled my chest and gut. I didn’t want to even think about what could have happened. It’s then that I noticed the brave face Harper was putting on for the kids. Just like last night, she was shredded and wearing the mask because she had to. Her eyes were deep brown pools of fear, and her lip trembled on each ragged breath.
I turned to Gemma, who was still in my arms. “I’ll be back in a second, sweetie. I’m just going to take Carly’s mummy upstairs to double-check on her owie, okay?”
Gemma nodded and without fuss let me set her down on the chair. She dove into the grilled-cheese sandwich like a hungry bear cub
Taking Harper’s hand, I led her out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the stairs. I went to tug her up the stairs, but she resisted. “It’s all right, Sam.”
Shaking my head at the incredible, stubborn, selfless woman in front of me, I pulled her into my chest. “You don’t have to be strong right now. Let me be the strong one.” Her arms found their way around my body, and I felt her make tight fists in the back of my shirt; muffled sobs and soft cries filtered up from where her face lay tucked against my chest.
I simply held her.
When her cries ebbed and the trembling subsided, she let go of my shirt and lifted her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose dripped. She sniffed, then ran the back of her wrist beneath her nose as an awkward half-laugh half-snort rumbled up through her chest. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I lifted her chin with my knuckle until our eyes met. “You’re the strongest woman I know, Harper. But we all have our breaking point, and I know you’ve been pushed past yours. I want to offer you whatever you and Carly need. You can stay here for as long as you need to. We’ll make it work. There are five bedrooms in this house. One is just used as the playroom and is full of toys. But we can put Carly’s bed in there for now. Stay. Please?”
New tears welled up in those beautiful eyes, but she nodded, and a smile finally touched her lips. “Thank you.”
Her tears were warm on my thumbs as I brushed them away, her skin silky-smooth and flushing a beautiful red. “Thank you for sticking around even after the shit show of the century. For being so amazing with my kids. For being sexy, beautiful, incredible you. Thank you for walking into playgroup six months ago with a hole in your yoga pants and banana in your hair. Thank you for being so easy to fall in love with. And thank you for loving me.”
She hiccupped a laugh, but somehow more crying started. This time I hoped they were tears of joy.
She smiled. “I can’t help but love you, Hot Dad. You’re Mr. Right.”
Chapter 23
Harper
One week later
The slight creak of the front door timed perfectly with the creak on the last step of the stairs, and Sam and I came face to face as he shut the door behind him. His eyes were bright and his cheeks rosy from the cold. Damn, February can often be worse than January, and this year was proof. Water dripped off his leather jacket and beaded in his hair from the downpour outside; the paper bag he clutched under his right arm was damp and dark brown. But it was the bouquet of roses under his other arm that caught my eye and made me smile and my heart thump heavy in my chest.
“Little monsters down and out?” he asked, toeing off his shoes and setting the bag and flowers down on the floor to remove his jacket.
“Finally,” I sighed. “Gem and Carly wouldn’t settle down.”
“I think my mother hopped them up on chocolate over the weekend.”
“Did she inject it into their veins? Because they were acting like junkies.”
With a snort and chuckle, he picked up the bouquet and bag. I followed him to the kitchen, but midway down the hall he pivoted abruptly. “These are for you.” With a big, cocky grin, he thrusted the stunning bouquet into my arms and then leaned down and pecked me on the lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Harper.”
Heat flashed into my cheeks as I
accepted the flowers. “Thank you.” We continued on down the hallway into the kitchen. “So, where did you order dinner from this time? No wait, let me guess. Under the Covers? Or perhaps Breasts, Thighs and Prairie Oysters?” I snickered at my own hilarity.
He plunked the bag down on the counter. “Are those actual restaurants here in the city?”
Rolling my eyes, I went about the business of finding a vase to put the flowers in. “I don’t know. I just made those names up. But you have managed to find sexually named restaurants so far. I thought this one would be as well.”
He handed me a napkin. BJ’s Burgers was stamped in the middle of the paper.
“Seriously? BJ’s?”
He began pulling out all the boxes of takeout. “Stands for Bobbi June. Little hole-in-the-wall joint down a side street just off Cambie. They’re the best burgers in the city, in my opinion.”
“But BJ’s?”
His face was the mask of innocence. “Yeah. Why? What does BJ stand for in your mind?”
Matching his expression, I looked him square in the eye. “Bobbi June, of course. I can’t think of a damn thing else that BJ could stand for.”
His grin was wide and warm, and it made my skin tingle.
Sam finished plating our dinner and I put the roses in a vase, then we carried our food and flowers out to the living room.
I was just about to dig into my Caribbean jerk chicken burger when my phone dinged. Sam was busy getting the movie all set up. Another thriller, apparently, but thankfully the characters weren’t running through any fields of wildflowers, they were just fleeing kidnappers. That I could handle.
I brought up the message on my phone. It was an email from Daisy.
“Who is it?” Sam asked, sitting back down and biting into a wedge fry.
“Your sister.”
His nose wrinkled. “Why is Daisy emailing you?”
I brought up the email. “After Landon’s birthday she emailed me a questionnaire, and I filled it out. This must be the results. What was the questionnaire for, anyway? I suppose I never asked what your sister does for work.”
“She’s a matchmaker,” he said blandly, tipping up his beer. “Don’t bother opening it. I know she does well, swears by her algorithm, but to me it’s all a bunch of hokum. Attraction and compatibility are more than just numbers spit out by a computer.”
Ignoring his cynicism, I started clicking on the attachments.
“Daisy made me do her dumb questionnaire one time. I was drunk, and she cajoled me into it. Then she started sending me images and profiles of women I had compatibility with. It was weird and creepy. Felt like I was looking through an online catalogue.”
I opened up one attachment and gasped. “Well, you taking the questionnaire meant Daisy could check our compatibility.”
He lifted one eyebrow but didn’t stop eating. “And?”
I showed him the screen of my phone. “And we’re ninety-five percent compatible. Daisy even said she’s never had a compatibility this high. We’re off the charts, baby!”
Appearing unfazed, he put his burger down on his plate and finished chewing before speaking. “Well, of course we are. You’re Hot Mom. I’m Hot Dad. I’m Mr. Wright, and you’re just you.”
I giggled. “What does that mean?”
His smile was another one of those panty-droppers, and I fought the urge to tackle him to the couch and tear off his pants. “Perfect for me.”
Epilogue
Harper
One year later
I’m standing at the vanity in the bridal suite of the Helix Hotel, my sister, Amy and Daisy fluttering around me like butterflies in blue dresses, trying to finish up their makeup and make sure they look good—not as good as me, though—when there is a light knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Daisy calls, a bobby pin between her lips as she and Amy share the bathroom counter and fix hair and apply mascara.
“Where’s my wife?” calls a sexy voice from beyond the door.
“She’s not your wife yet, and it’s bad luck to see her before she walks down the aisle,” Daisy replies. She heads to the door and opens it up just a crack. “What do you want?”
“I need to see my wife,” Sam says. Desperation colors his tone, making the hairs on the back of my neck immediately lift.
Daisy makes an irritated and exasperated sound in the back of her throat. “I told you, she’s not your wife yet. Can’t you wait half an hour?”
“No.”
Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat like a sticky wad of peanut butter, I walk to the door. My hand lands on Daisy’s bare shoulder. “It’s okay, Daise.”
“Pushy bastard,” she grumbles but lets go of the door and heads back to the bathroom.
Sam pushes his way inside and my stomach drops, my toes curl, my pussy clenches and my mouth waters. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous in his tux. James Bond is a pimple-faced tween compared to my man in a monkey suit. All I can do is stare. His presence overwhelms me, takes over the room, and I back up slowly into the suite. Quinn and Amy rush out of the bathroom.
Sam doesn’t even look at them. His eyes focus like lasers, and only on me. “Out,” he says.
The women scramble, grabbing shawls and shoes, purses and flasks. Within seconds I hear the door softly click shut.
“E-everything all right?” I ask. I continue to back up, and my calves hit the end of the bed.
“You look incredible,” he says softly, stepping forward. His knuckles gently graze my cheek, and I catch myself closing my eyes from the intimate connection.
He’s not wrong there. I do look bloody fantastic. Despite the fact that we both have children and have been living together since we moved in “temporarily” a year ago, Sam and I wanted to do the whole shebang of a big wedding. It was a first time for both of us, and we wanted to do it right. I’d gone with Quinn, Daisy and Amy dress-shopping down in Seattle one weekend and come back with a classic, gorgeous lace dress that hugged my curves and swept the floor. It had cap sleeves and an intricate lacy back, while the sweetheart neckline did all kinds of justice to the boobs that my push-up bra was duping the world into thinking I had. I’d fallen in love with it immediately, and the fact that it was also on clearance just sealed the deal.
I swallow again and lean into his touch when he cups my cheek, his blue eyes sparkling like endless pools of wonder. “You look incredible, too.”
“I had to see you.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask again. He’s worrying me. Sam isn’t normally an intense person. One of the things I love the most about him is how easygoing he is. Intense and demanding in the bedroom, but cool as a cucumber the rest of the time.
A muscle, strong and thick, ticks along his jaw. “I just wanted to make sure you’re happy.”
My brows furrow. What? Where is this coming from?
“Yes. I’m incredibly happy. What’s going on, Sam?”
“I just want to know if you’re happy with our life.”
Fuck!
He’s worried that like Meegan, when things get tough, I’ll take off.
Never.
Smiling and resting my wrists on his strong, broad shoulders, I push forward so there isn’t even room for air between our bodies. I need him to know just how happy I am. Just how amazing my life is now because he’s a part of it.
“I’m incredibly happy,” I say, brushing my lips across his. “The kids are happy. The kids are healthy. Meegan’s getting the help she needs at that hospital in the Okanagan, and apparently doing well. You’re back at the fire hall doing what you love, and illustrating on the side. My business is booming, and I’m working part-time at the gallery training to be a framer with Amy. I’m about to become Mrs. Wright. We’re heading to Belize tomorrow for our honeymoon. I couldn’t be happier, Sam. And it’s all because of you.”
His lips twitch, and he presses them into a thin line.
“What do I have to do to convince you I’m not going anywhere
, ever? You’re stuck with me, Hot Dad. Forever.”
“You could marry me.”
I chuckle. “That’s kind of why I’m wearing this dress.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Now. All that out there is for everyone else. This, now, I want it to be for us.”
“I don’t understand.”
He holds me at arm’s length, and his hands take mine. “I want to say our vows now. I want to hear them before anyone else does. Because they’re meant just for me, and mine are meant just for you.”
Hot damn, Hot Dad can be romantic. And yet, I’ve known this all along. Our first date had been incredibly romantic and innovative. And over the last year, he hasn’t stopped showing me just how much he loves me.
Smiling, I give his hand a light squeeze. “Samuel Forsyth Wright, I promise to love you until my last breath. I promise to support you, honor you, respect you and care for you. You are my other half. Through good times and bad, I will be your rock. You make me feel like the most beautiful, cherished, loved woman in the world, and the way you’ve embraced fatherhood with my daughter only makes me love you even more. You are who we were waiting for. Searching for. You rescued us. Rescued our hearts, and now they are yours.” I take a deep breath and choke on a sob.
Sam’s eyes are bright and clear, but his lips tremble and his nostrils flare. He’s having just as tough of a time keeping it together as I am. I swallow hard and press on.
“For the rest of my life, I will wear your ring and carry your last name with pride and love. I’ve found my Mr. Right, and I’m ready to become your Mrs. Wright. You are my heart, my soul, my everything, and I’m so grateful I found you.”
Taking a deep breath, I let out it out on a long, slow exhale. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and my throat is tight. But I got them out. I said my vows, and I didn’t break down into a blubbering mess. But Sam hasn’t started his yet. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. We’ll be red and splotchy walking down the aisle in a few minutes.
