by Diana Gardin
Dare speaks through his teeth. “Seriously, Teague? You want to provoke the best man on my wedding day by talking about his girl?”
I growl again.
Dare whirls on me. “Easy, Drake. You know Teague. He’s an idiot. Ignore him.”
Jeremy tries to cover his laughter, but he fails. As usual. “Sorry, man. My bad.”
Taking a deep breath, I take a step back from the Jeremy situation and address Dare. “We need to get down to the beach.”
The truth is, I saw her tits very clearly last night when she bounced on top of me. I felt them, I sucked them, and I admired them. They’re amazing. And yeah, they do seem bigger. But maybe it’s just that time of the month or something. I didn’t ask Mea about it, because I didn’t want to sound like an asshole. But I guess Jeremy doesn’t have any qualms about that.
And now my train of thought is headed in a dirty direction. Shaking my head to clear it of all things Mea, I focus on Dare. “You ready?”
Dare looks me in the eye. “To marry her? Been ready.”
I pat his back. “Then let’s go do it.”
Dare, the four groomsmen, and I make our way out the back door and down to the beach. The officiant, a high-ranking navy officer who has apparently known Berkeley since she was young, is waiting. I walk with Dare up the aisle, passing smiling wedding guests seated in white wicker chairs. We stop in our spots beside the officiant, and I give Dare a reassuring grin. He smiles back before focusing on the top of the beach.
As the processional begins, I hold my breath. It’s not my wedding, but I’m still waiting for my girl to walk down the aisle. She wouldn’t let me see her dress, and the suspense has me knotted up tight. A bead of sweat runs down my forehead, and I brush it away.
Grisham and Greta appear at the top of the dune. Looking like the picture-perfect couple they are, they walk down the aisle together. Splitting off at the end, Grisham kisses her on the lips before stepping next to me. She holds her brightly colored flowers close to her chest.
Ronin walks down with Olive, looking as serious as ever. Olive, on the other hand, looks like a bright and shiny model in a beach commercial. Her dark red hair is piled on top of her head and she smiles at the guests as she walks by them. They also split at the top of the aisle and Ronin joins our side.
Jeremy is next, with Mea on his arm. My stomach clenches at the sight of her, and my eyes narrow as I watch Jeremy’s hands while they walk. If he makes one false move, I swear I’ll take him out after this wedding is done. Mea smiles sweetly as she walks, but she’s not nodding toward the guests on both sides of her. She’s locked in on me, and the rest of the wedding disappears under her hot, chocolate gaze. She’s a seductress, and I’m under her spell. Can’t help it. Never could. She’s stunning in a beige gown, her long, curved legs moving to keep up with Jeremy’s long strides. When they reach the end of the aisle, she winks at me.
I mouth the word “later.”
She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and I stifle a groan.
Chase and Shay walk down the aisle together, with their toddler daughter between them. She’s all decked out in a frilly dress, tossing flower petals out of the little basket she’s clutching in her chubby hands. She’s taking her job seriously, making sure each petal makes it to the ground before reaching in to grab another handful. The guests are in a quiet uproar at the sight of her toddling down the aisle between her parents.
Once they reach the end, the little girl, Olivia, dumps her basket upside down. She glances at Chase, who’s trying hard not to laugh at his daughter.
“All gone, Daddy!” she announces, clearly proud of the job she’s done. Shay picks her up and carries her to stand beside the other bridesmaids.
The processional music fades away, the final notes lost somewhere in the rush of ocean meeting sand. I’m having trouble looking away from my girl, but as a singer takes his place at the front of the aisle, I have to check Berkeley out.
She’s standing at the top of the dune, her arm locked tightly in her father’s. Her eyes are locked on Dare, who straightens beside me. As she walks toward him, I rest a hand on his shoulder. He’s trembling.
The singer, a friend of Berkeley’s from college, is singing the steel drum version of “Over the Rainbow.” I’m caught up in the moment just like everyone else, watching her drift across the sand toward the only man in this whole world who could hold her heart. Mea’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. Feeling the heat of my gaze, she glances at me and beams. Something passes between us, then. A promise?
Could this be us one day? When I look at Mea, do I picture the rest of my life? Being chided by her sass, swept up in her perpetual tornado, loving her body each and every night? Is that something I want to hold on to?
The answer is an unequivocal yes.
I don’t know when it happened, exactly. But sometime between the first time I loved her body and this moment, I fell headfirst under her spell. There’s no other woman in this world that could keep me guessing the way she does. No other woman who could beckon me across a crowded room with one crook of her finger. No other woman who simultaneously makes me crazy with frustration and insane with greedy lust.
She’s mine.
And I want it forever.
When asked to share their vows, Dare and Berkeley state that they’ve written their own. It’s not surprising, since I think underneath all that broodiness my boy is actually a poet. Berkeley’s an artist, she would never want to conform to the traditional vows. They pledge their lives to each other with beautiful, heartfelt words.
“I, Dare, take you, Berkeley, to be my wife. The first and last person I think about each and every day. The mother of my future children. The love of my life. The first day I saw you I decided you were an evil vixen siren who’d been sent to mess me up for anyone else. It was partially true. You’re definitely a vixen, and I answer to your siren’s call. But evil? Never. You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, kindhearted woman I’ve ever met. When I fell in love with you, Berkeley, I found my family. My home. And I promise that for the rest of my life, I will make that home the happiest place for the both of us. I will cherish you, honor you, respect you as my partner, and let you decorate every room in our house without a single complaint. I pledge my life to you today. Forever.”
Hers is spoken through the haze of tears falling from her lovely eyes. “Dare, the day I met you, I pegged you for a dark and brooding army egocentric.” The wedding guests burst into laughter. “But I was wrong. You taught me that judging someone by past prejudices can be fatal. No matter what I thought of you then, I couldn’t get you out of my head. And I still get those same butterflies whenever you walk into a room. You’re my love, my partner, and my hero. I pledge my life to you now. I promise to always be the person you can turn to in times of distress. I promise to be the mother to your children. I promise to love you through every peak and every valley this world might bring us. But most of all, I promise to be your compass, so that you’ll always know where to come home.”
The ceremony ends shortly after, with Dare dipping his new wife to kiss the hell out of her in front of family and friends.
I pull Mea closer to me as we wander over the dance floor. The soft strains of a slow Bruno Mars hit waft through the air, but I barely hear the music. My senses are overwhelmed with her. Her smell invigorates me, the feel of her body pressed against mine is a drug. Her head rests against my chest, and there are no wayward curls tickling my nose.
“I miss those curls,” I whisper into her ear, loving how her body shivers in response.
She glances up, warm brown eyes meeting mine. “I straightened it this morning. You don’t like it?”
I smooth a hand over her espresso-colored locks. When straightened, her hair falls over her shoulders in a thick sheet. She’s gorgeous either way. “Love your hair, baby. No matter how you style it. Those curls just make you wilder. I like you wild.”
Her lips curl, a seductive smile making the blood pum
p harder in my veins. “Oh, I’ll be plenty wild.”
Grabbing her hips I pull her against me so she can feel how much I want her to show me her wild. “Promise.”
A soft gasp escapes her. Her voice is breathless. “I promise, Drake.”
Promise. I should tell her…
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Without taking my arm away from Mea’s curvaceous form, I pull it out and check the screen. Frowning, I show it to her.
“Who’s that?” Curiosity is evident in her tone.
“It’s a lady I know from my hometown back in Georgia. Took care of me a lot when my mom…couldn’t. Hold on one second. I need to answer it.” I kiss Mea’s cheek and walk away from the dance floor, heading outside the big white tent set up on the sand for the reception.
“Ms. Ebbie? Is everything okay?”
“Hello, Drake, dear. I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s something I thought you should know.”
My brow furrows, concern and confusion sweeping through me. “It’s okay, Ms. Ebbie. You’re not bothering me. What is it?”
Her elderly voice wavers a little as she speaks. But knowing Ms. Ebbie, she walked a mile through town today making sure someone who needed something got her help. “Well, when the movers were packing up your mama’s house, I went on over to make sure there was nothin’ in there you might want someday.”
I smile, because of course she did. Ms. Ebbie was always thinking of others, and it doesn’t bother me in the least that she took it upon herself to save mementos in case I’d want them. “Did you find something you think I need?”
She sounds unsure. “Well, I know you never knew who your daddy was, Drake. There was a shoebox in your mama’s closet that held some things…important things. There’s a picture of your mama when she was pregnant. I thought it was her bein’ pregnant with you. But the man standin’ next to her in that picture ain’t your daddy. I don’t recognize him at all.”
“What are you saying, Ms. Ebbie?” Suddenly, my palms are sweaty. But my body feels cold all over.
“I was there when you were born, Drake. Helped your mama through that labor. But I wasn’t there when you were conceived, was I? I think the man in this picture…he’s your real daddy.”
I use my free hand to cover my forehead. Squeezing, I want to push the information she just told me right out of my head. My voice comes out as a rough whisper. “Why would you think that?”
“On account ’a there’s also an envelope in this box with a DNA test inside. I won’t open it, Drake. That’s for you to do.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I keep them closed, this will all fade away. This can’t be happening right now. “Does it say anything? On the back of the picture?”
“It does indeed. It says ‘Me and Richard.’”
“Richard? I don’t know any Richard. Do you?” I blow out a heavy breath and start to pace the sand.
“Drake…I think you need to come home. Sort this out.”
Stopping, I spin toward the opening of the big, white tent. “I don’t think I can do that right now, Ms. Ebbie.”
Her voice is weary. “And that’s your God-given right, honey. But it’ll be here waitin’ on you when you’re ready.”
Sighing, I drop the phone. Grabbing both sides of my hair, I yell over the sound of the music coming from the tent. “Fuck!”
When I retrieve the phone back out of the sand, my voice is resigned. “Thanks, Ms. Ebbie.”
Instead of going back inside the tent, I trudge toward the ocean. My mood is drastically different now from before I took the phone call. My brain is swirling with the implications of what the older woman just told me.
Is it true? The man who left me and my mother when I was a baby, and then spent most of his life in and out of prison afterward, isn’t actually my father?
Growing up, I’d asked my mom about my father. It’s a question all little boys want to know the answer to when they realize that other boys in their class at school have dads who live with them and play with them and love their mothers. My mom, probably drunk when I asked, snapped at me that my dad didn’t love either one of us and he was sitting in a prison cell upstate. She said he was a bad man, and I never asked about him again. I didn’t need to. What she told me was enough, and I put my focus on my schooling and on making sure she didn’t choke on a puddle of her own puke.
But what if the photo Ms. Ebbie found was of my real dad? What does it mean? Did my mother meet him before the man I thought was my father? Or did she have an affair with another man? Why didn’t he stay? Why didn’t he help her?
The questions keep rolling in, and my anger ratchets with each new wonder. The moon is directly above the waves, shedding cool white light on the rollicking water. I stare at it until my eyes burn with the effects from the salty spray.
“Drake?”
Mea’s voice doesn’t make me turn around. I don’t want her to see me like this. I feel out of control, violent. I feel like I could crush something with my bare hands.
For the first time in a long time, I want a drink.
But I know now that it won’t help. It’ll only numb me. What I really need is standing right beside me.
Mea touches my shoulder. “Drake—”
I silence her with my lips. Kissing her hard, I draw her against me until I’m squeezing her so hard she gasps. When she opens her mouth, I take the chance to ravage her hot, wet mouth with my tongue. She responds, stroking me with her sweetness and coating me with her honey. Her storm brews just beneath the surface, threatening to pull me into its orbit and keep me tethered to her.
When her fingers tangle in my hair, I lift her up. Carrying her toward my own backyard, I forget about the dwindling wedding reception and anything else but the fact that I need to be alone with her.
My lips fused to hers, I follow the path and open the gate to my backyard by memory. Fumbling with the lock on my door, I let us inside and kick it shut behind me.
We make it as far as the kitchen table. Mea slides down my body, and I reluctantly let her lips leave mine. With frantic, hurried movements, she yanks open my white dress shirt. Buttons go flying, but I hardly notice the soft pings as they hit the tile floor. She slides the fabric over my shoulders, exposing my chest. Reaching around her, I unzip her sexy little dress. The sound of the zipper is erotic and makes me even more desperate to slide inside her heat than I already am. Turning her around, I push her down with one palm until she’s leaning against the kitchen table. I slide her dress down over an ultrasexy pair of lace boyshort panties. After she steps out of the dress, I push those down, too, baring her perfect, round ass to me.
“So fucking sexy.” I don’t recognize my voice. It’s rough, it’s frenetic. I need her more than I need another breath.
Reaching between her legs, I find her slick folds hot and ready for me. Groaning, I insert one finger inside her and then another. She moans, bucking back against me with a furious need of her own. I don’t care about control. I’ve tossed it out in order to succumb to how much I need her right now.
Unzipping my slacks, I let them fall down my legs. There’s no other barrier keeping her from me, and it only takes a second for me to slam into her from behind.
“Yes, Drake.” Her gasp of pleasure spurs me on.
Pulling back out of her, I pound back home. Over and over again, in and out. My body becomes slick with sweat, a drip of it runs down my temple. Mea reaches back to meet me, the sound of her ass slapping into my hips is going to slowly drive me insane.
“Remember this, baby. Remember me.” My words are released on a groan. She starts to quake around me just as my balls tighten in anticipation of my own release.
Our panting breaths have taken over the sound waves in the kitchen, and I’m captured by the wild grace that this girl brings to my life. I’m struck by the fact that I’m about to leave her for God knows how long, and I’m not even going to be able to explain. I’m leaving her with this one rugged memory, and I’m a bastard becaus
e I didn’t take her to bed and love her right. This is what I needed. But it’s not what she deserved.
My body shakes and shivers as my release rises and builds, and when she cries out her own uncontainable pleasure, I come hard and fast.
And then I slide out of her, staggering backward until I reach the kitchen counter. Glancing down, I pull up my pants and fasten them while Mea slowly rises from the table.
I don’t know what to say. I definitely can’t say what I was thinking earlier, during the wedding. Now isn’t the time. Not when I’ve got more fucked-up shit swirling around inside my head.
“Stay with me tonight.” More demands. I can’t seem to help myself.
She gathers her dress into her arms, her expression wary. Nodding her head, she walks toward the bedroom.
Following her, we climb into bed. Mea runs over so that her body is facing mine. She reaches out a finger, traces my lips. Her touch is soft, gentle. Loving.
Love.
Love.
Love.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my pants on the floor. Thinking it could be Ms. Ebbie again, I pull it up and check the screen.
“Ms. Ebbie?”
“No, I’m sorry. This is a paramedic. I found this phone on the lady we just brought to the hospital, and this was the last number she called.”
Sitting up, I shake my head slowly. “She’s in the hospital? What happened?”
The paramedic’s voice is sympathetic. “Stroke. If you’re a loved one, you should probably get to the hospital.”
The call disconnected. I know that Ms. Ebbie has a daughter who lives in Texas, but I can get there faster than she can.
Turning to Mea, I kiss her lips.
“What’s wrong? Who was that?” Her voice carries a note of alarm.
I raise my hands, tugging at my hair. I take a deep breath.
Without looking at her, I speak. My voice is raw. “I have to go back to Georgia.”
Confusion makes her voice rise. “Why? For how long?”
