This was what we wanted.
Not the superficiality of the world Leighton had once been a part of. Only those who were genuinely happy for us.
“I'm so happy to be the first to congratulate the happy couple,” Dr. David said as he led the receiving line. “I knew you'd hooked my best volunteer, Haze. Congratulations!”
“Thank you for coming, Dr. David,” Leighton said, blushing prettily. “And don't worry, I'll be there as soon as we get back from our honeymoon.”
“What are you grinning about?” Leighton asked me as we turned to follow the guests into the reception area.
“It's my wedding, shouldn't I be grinning?” I asked. She elbowed me and I relented. “I'm just so happy. I think I might actually explode.”
“Don't do that,” Ian said. “You'll miss my toast.”
“You know he's threatening to read from your letters,” I told Devlin.
The old man slapped me on the shoulder. “Well, at least someone appreciates my sage observations.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I married your wonderful, generous, and beautiful granddaughter, didn't I?”
“That you did,” Devlin said, his eyes glinting with tears.
He moved to Leighton's side as we all took our seats at the head table. Ian tapped on his wine glass as we settled into our seats and called everyone's attention.
“It is my great honor to toast the happy couple,” Ian said. “The fact that I'm here to see what an amazing woman my sister has become would be reason enough to celebrate, but to see her marry such a brave, kind, and strong man is more than I ever could have hoped for. Leighton and I lost a lot.” He glanced at his grandfather. “But we have a stronger family because of it, and I'm proud to add Haze to that family.”
I gave Leighton a soft kiss and then reached over to squeeze Ian's shoulder as he sat down.
“That was perfect,” I said. After a beat, I lightened the mood. “Now let's get something to eat. I'm starved.”
The reception moved by in a blur as we ate and kissed and talked. We cut the cake and did all the traditional stuff, but it wasn't until we moved to the dance floor for our first dance that the enormity of how much my life had changed finally hit me.
As I pulled Leighton's arms around my neck, emotion threatened to choke me. As if she could sense my change in mood, Leighton pressed a gentle hand over my scarred shoulder.
“It still hurts every time I think about how you almost died for me.”
“It still hurts every time I think about how I walked away from you,” I said. I brushed my fingers across her cheek. “Or when I think about what Paris and Ricky did to you.”
“I'm okay.” She brushed her lips across mine. “They're in jail and they'll never hurt me again.”
“And I'll never hurt you again either,” I promised. “I plan on spending the rest of my life making up for leaving you that day.”
To my surprise, she shook her head and smiled. “You don't get it, do you? Everything that happened…from the moment we met until the moment we confessed how we felt…all of that had to happen so we could become the people we needed to be for us to be together.”
I stared down at her. “When did you get to be so insightful?”
Her smile widened. “When I met the love of my life and realized that I could be more than some shallow arm candy.”
I bent my head and gave her the kind of kiss that left my pulse racing and my body aching for her. An ache that I planned on satisfying over and over again very soon.
“Trust me, sweetheart,” I murmured against her mouth. “You've always been more.”
The End
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Acknowledgement
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
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About The Author
MS Parker
M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privè and Chasing Perfection.
Living in Southern California, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing on her next spicy romance.
Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor or author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call for her to appear on Dancing With The Stars.
When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing.
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