He stared at me for a long minute, his eyes wide with emotions that I couldn’t quite catch. I thought I saw surprise and joy and affection. But I also thought I saw fear, and that frightened me.
“Grant…”
He pulled away, tugging at my hand to make me let go, and yanked open a drawer on the other side of his desk. When he came back, he knelt in front of me and held open a small jeweler’s box.
“Marry me,” he said.
I gasped, my hands shaking so hard I couldn’t have picked up the beautiful, diamond solitaire in that little box. He stood and pulled it out himself, sliding it onto my finger.
“I’ve had that ring for a long time.”
I half nodded as he grasped my chin and lifted it. He kissed me gently, then a little harder.
“We’ll tell people I proposed, okay?”
We found out about the baby two weeks later.
My dad ran his hand down my bare back, his touch light and affectionate.
“You’re a beautiful bride, Addison, just like your mother was.”
I sat back on my heels and looked at him. “Was she beautiful? I can hardly remember what she looked like anymore.”
“She was beautiful. Auburn hair, just like yours. Green eyes like yours. The only difference is you got my nose, my love.”
I smiled, the tears still rolling slowly down my cheeks and over the end of my jaw. “You loved her.”
“Very much.” His eyes filled with sadness, but there was a bright smile on his lips. “She was my whole world before you were born. Did I ever tell you that her father threatened to disown her if she married me?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“He did. Told her I was street trash who would pull her down into the gutter with me.” He touched my cheek lightly, wiping away a tear. “But he was wrong, just like I was wrong about Grant.”
I pressed my hand against his, pushing it tighter against my face. “He’s a good man, Daddy.”
“I’m counting on that. I need to believe you’re well taken care of.”
“I am.” I pulled myself to my feet again and bent low to kiss his cheek. “There’s something else you should probably know,” I said against his ear. “You’re going to be a grandpa.”
I stood up and watched the joy bloom on his face. He held out his hands and pulled me back down to him, at a loss for words. And that spoke volumes.
Agnes tapped on the door and stuck her head in—I hadn’t even realized that she and Angela had left us alone—to let us know it was time.
“Perfect timing,” my dad announced. “I couldn’t think of a better note to end this on.”
I kissed him again. “I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you, too.”
Agnes pushed him back out into the lobby of the Catholic church where Grant was waiting for us at the end of the aisle. I followed and Angela came over, a makeup wipe in her hand to clean the mess I’d made of my makeup. And then she just smiled.
“It’s a happy day.”
I nodded.
We heard the music begin to play. The ushers opened the double doors that separated the lobby from the nave of the church. Angela started down the aisle, a big smile on her face when she spotted Kevin waiting for her halfway down. Agnes came around me and straightened the narrow train of my dress. Then she squeezed my arms.
“Congratulations,” she whispered before she moved around me and took her seat inside.
“I guess it’s our turn now,” my dad said.
“It is.”
I hadn’t been one hundred percent sure how we were going to handle this. But I should have known my dad would have it all worked out. One of the ushers moved behind him and began pushing him as he grabbed my hand. It wasn’t traditional. But it was the proudest, happiest moment of my life.
Grant moved into place as we began walking toward him. Our eyes met across the nearly empty nave, and I knew this was the right thing to do. This was where we’d always been heading. We’d been derailed seven years ago, but we were back on track now.
We stopped at the head of the aisle and the priest came down to greet us.
“Who gives this woman to this man?” he asked.
“I do,” my father said in a clear, honored voice.
Tears were flowing again as I bent low and kissed him again.
“Thank you,” he whispered, choking up himself. And then he reached for Grant’s hand, placing it on mine. “Take care of her.”
“I will,” Grant said in the most solemn tone I’d ever heard come from his lips.
I cried during the entire service. It was a traditional wedding, complete with a double rosary as my parents had had at their wedding twenty-seven years ago. Grant was so kind, so patient, as I cried my way through my vows and slid his ring on his finger with shaking hands. And then? And then he was mine for better or for worse.
What more could I ask?
Chapter 25
We walked into the luxurious room, an old-fashioned bellboy leading the way. It was a lovely resort in the Bahamas, but all I could think about was how far we were from my dad. Grant offered the bellboy a tip and watched him leave the room.
He came over to me and pushed me up against the door, his hand on my hip as he braced himself with the other. “Hello, Mrs. McGraw,” he said, his lips so close to my ear that the heat of his breath tickled.
“Mr. McGraw,” I said.
“You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off of you all day.”
“Yeah?”
“You looked amazing in that dress.”
“Oh, that little thing?”
“And this,” he said, running his hand from my hip to my upper thigh, tugging at the skirt of my traveling suit, “does amazing things to my control.”
“Does?”
“Makes me want to tear it off of you and ravish you without thought of where we are.”
“Ravish? Do people actually use that word anymore?”
“It’s the only word that fits the desperation of what I want to do to you.”
“Do you often have thoughts like that about innocent pregnant women?”
“If you were so innocent, you wouldn’t be so pregnant.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
He kissed me then, his lips cool from the night air. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him lift me up, pulling me up along the length of his body as he trapped me there between him and the solid door. I kicked off my shoes and wrapped my legs around him, my skirt hitching itself up over my thighs as I did. His hand slid under my skirt, his palm warm on my bare ass. He pulled back and looked at me when he realized just how bare my ass was.
“What’s this? Have you been like this all day?”
“I forgot my thong, and panties with this skirt would have been tacky.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is that so? Well, here’s to fashion correctness.”
He came back to my lips, his fingers moving over my ass to find the secret places that ached for his touch. I moaned as his fingers found moisture, as he discovered just how desperately I’d been needing this moment. Even as his fingers began to do interesting things to me, his mouth moved from mine, sliding over my throat, searching for a way under the thin sweater I was wearing. I hadn’t forgotten to pack a bra, so he had layers of clothing to fight through there. But my hardened nipples took away a little of the mystery, giving him a clear indication of where to bite down with his gentle nibble.
I ran my fingers through his hair as the day slowly began to fall away, the happiness tempered by profound sadness. The reception was small—just us, the wedding party, and a few close friends. Maybe twenty of us all together. We had lunch at a local restaurant and lingered, talking long into the evening. It was different, but nice. Watching my father, so animated as he told stories about my childhood to anyone and everyone who would listen, was beyond words. I didn’t want to leave.
But this…the day was becoming something like
a dream, and this was reality. This was my life.
My man.
I tugged at his hair, pulled him back up to me. I touched his face, cradled his jaw in my palm.
“I love you.”
He groaned, his mouth sliding over mine again. He pulled me away from the door and carried me to the bedroom, our bodies falling in a heap on the bed. We were tangled together, but we seemed to fit together nicely. I pulled his shirt, until he sat up enough for me to slip it over his head. I pressed my mouth to his throat, wanting to taste him, be enveloped in everything about him. And he pulled my sweater over my head, his fingers fumbling as they worked the clasp at the center of my bra. I finally had to do it for him. When I started to make a joke about his clumsy fingers, I got his eye and saw emotion intensified and I almost couldn’t catch my breath.
There was nothing funny about this.
His pants somehow found their way to the floor, my skirt disappearing. I guided him to me, so anxious to feel him inside that I couldn’t wait for him to do it himself. He groaned at the sight of me, at my touch—always groaning like he couldn’t get enough.
We rocked and it was both like all the times before and like we’d never touched at all. We clung to each other, rocking to satisfy the physical needs, touching to satisfy the emotional needs. My heart was so full, but I still felt like I couldn’t get close enough, that I couldn’t hold on tight enough.
Chapter 26
Grant tucked my hand in the crook of his elbow and pulled me against his side as we walked along the beach. The water was a crystal-clear blue, the sand almost white. It was so beautiful, especially now as the sun was setting.
“We should build a house here,” Grant said.
“Right here on the beach?”
“Yeah. That way we could sit on our front porch and see this beautiful scene just right out in the front yard.”
“Sounds good.”
“The baby could learn how to swim before she’s a year old.”
“She? You think it’s going to be a girl?”
“I think I want all my children to look just like you.”
I glanced at him. “What if I want a little boy who looks like you?”
“That would do, too, I suppose.”
I pressed my head to his shoulder, laughter building in my chest.
“Don’t most men want a mini-me?”
“I raised a boy. My brother may not be typical, and he was a teenager by the time he was all mine, but I’ve done that. I’m ready to see what it’s like to raise a girl.”
“Well, I think the decision’s already been made. Doctor said we’ll find out in a few weeks.”
“We could wait. Some people still do that.”
“We could. Or we could have one of those reveal parties with the different colored cakes that people are so fond of doing these days.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather wait.”
I looked up at him. “Yeah?”
He nodded. “I think it would make things interesting.”
“Like being in the delivery room isn’t interesting enough.”
He chuckled. “True.”
We walked for a few minutes, both of us lost in our thoughts.
If anyone had told me months ago that it was possible to be over-the-moon happy and down-in-the-ditch sad all at the same time, I wouldn’t have believed them. But it was true. I was so happy I could hardly stand myself. But then my thoughts would drift to my dad and an overwhelming grief would wash over me. I just kept seeing him there at my reception, watching everything from his wheelchair. He was so tired that his eyes continuously drooped. But he had this perpetual little smile on his lips that was filled with contentment.
I’d helped him do the one thing he’d promised my mom he would do. But now that it was over, I found myself wondering if he’d lost his will to live.
The cancer had spread. The doctor said there was nothing more they could do except keep him comfortable. And here I was, miles away, missing out on precious time.
Grant suddenly stopped walking and turned toward me.
“Do you want to go home?”
Tears filled my eyes. “Do you mind?”
He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “If I’d known my mom was going to die when she did, I would have done all I could to be with her in the days and weeks before instead of making trouble and being self-absorbed. So, no, I don’t mind. I totally understand.”
I couldn’t speak. I reached up and kissed him.
***
It was raining. I stood at the window and stared out at the street below. Grant was asleep in the room next door and Agnes had gone home. I could hear my dad breathing heavily in his bed.
This was the house I grew up in. This was the room my mother died in. It was the room my father slept in all through my childhood.
I remembered standing here in this same place, watching the cars pass on the street below while the nurse washed and dressed my mother’s body, as my father sat at her side and numbly held her hand. He’d brought me in here to say my good-byes, but I didn’t know what to say. I just stood at the window and watched the traffic move, wondering where those people were going and what they would think if they knew my mother had died.
It was dark now, three o’clock in the morning. There wasn’t any traffic. But that same surreal thought was moving through my mind.
What would the world be like when my dad died? Would it change? Would it end?
Grant and I were married two weeks ago. We should have been on top of the world, but we’d spent every day and night taking turns sitting in this room, watching over my dad. It was obscene, this waiting for death.
I don’t have many memories of this waiting when my mom was ill. But she was ill for a long time, so I’m sure there was a lot of this then, too. All I remembered were the final days. The days when my dad came to my room and helped me dress in my finest and walked me down the hall, my hand in his. I remembered standing there by her bed, watching her mumble and stare blindly at the ceiling. It frightened me. I was five. I remembered my mother as a laughing, happy person. This was not my mom.
“Tell Mommy you love her,” my dad said near my ear.
I shook my head even as this person in the bed turned and focused on me.
“Addie,” she said softly, “my darling baby.”
She reached for me with a hand that was skeletal, her fingers ice cold when they touched me. It was like she was already gone. I shuttered, but I couldn’t move away because my father was standing too close.
“Tell Mommy you love her,” Daddy said again, his voice almost desperate.
“I love you, Mommy,” I remembered saying as quickly as I could.
I just wanted to get away. The memory made me feel ashamed as I grew older and looked back on it. But, as a child, the moment was frightening.
I turned and looked at my father lying on the same bed, his body just as wasted as hers had been. It was just as frightening now as it had been then.
I walked over to the bed and curled up in the chair that was positioned beside him, comforting myself with my arms wrapped around my chest. He was asleep, breathing shallowly. I wanted to touch him, but I was afraid of disturbing his rest. He’d been in so much pain these last few days; this was the first time he’d been able to get any sleep. He joked that he would soon get all the rest he could ever need. I hated those kinds of jokes.
“Julia,” he mumbled in his sleep.
He was calling for my mom.
I leaned forward and wiped the sweat from his brow with a soft cloth that sat on the bedside table for that purpose. He opened his eyes and blinked away the dreams that came to him in his sleep.
“Addison…”
“I’m here, Daddy,” I said, putting the cloth down so I could take his hand. “Are you in pain? Do you need more medication?”
He focused on me, his eyes no longer the brilliant brown they once were, but more of a milky cream now. But he
was still there. He was still my dad.
“I’m okay,” he said slowly. “I was dreaming about your mother.”
“You said her name.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “She’s been so close lately. It’s like she’s here, waiting for me.”
“Maybe she is.”
He opened his eyes again, focusing on my face. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to leave you behind.”
“It’s okay, Daddy,” I said, running my hand over his. “You’re in so much pain. I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”
“I was thinking.” His voice was low, like every word was a struggle to get out. “When you were little, you were so beautiful. So dainty. Your mother liked to dress you in all these little dresses with ruffles. And she’d put your hair in pigtails that she would painstakingly curl. Pin curls, she called them. We have dozens of pictures of you dressed that way.”
“I’ve seen them.”
“When she got sick, I never knew what to do with you. I didn’t know how to dress you, how to put your hair up. I wanted to hire a nanny, but she insisted it was important that one of us stayed in charge of your day-to-day care. I did the best I could.”
“I know.” I leaned closer and pressed my lips to his palm, though I wasn’t not sure he could feel it. “You tried.”
“I was awful. You would scream when I tried to do your hair.”
I smiled. “You tugged at it too hard.”
He smiled, too, his eyes sliding closed again. “If you have a girl, make sure you teach Grant how to do those things so he doesn’t make the same mistakes I made.”
“I will.”
He was quiet for a few minutes. If it weren’t for the roughness of his breathing, I might have assumed he’d fallen asleep. But then he opened his eyes again.
“I made a lot of mistakes, but I don’t think hiring a nanny was one of them. She saved you from losing all your hair to my bumbling attempts to give you ponytails.”
I laughed. “True.”
He focused on me again, laughter dancing in his eyes. “That woman thought I was insane when I told her what I needed from her. But then you came dancing into the room, your hair a rat’s nest of tangles, and she suddenly got it.”
CALLIE (The Naughty Ones Book 1) Page 99
