Holy fuck.
Not only that, but judging from the date, we’d gotten married in the early hours of the morning. Considering I couldn’t remember anything from that night, I had the case open and was popping the DVD into the player in ten seconds flat. Dawson had joked about a video, but I hadn’t thought he was serious. Why had it come from Dave and not the Tunnel of Love or whatever ungodly chapel it was we’d gotten married in?
My hands were shaking as I turned on the TV, and the words Paige & Dawson came up on the screen with a wide shot of Las Vegas from the air that had to be some kind of stock intro. I was holding my breath as the video cut to a handheld camera, judging from the slight shaking.
“SO WHERE IS it we’re going, folks?” Dave said as he zoomed in on a shot of me and Dawson in front of a limo. Dawson had on a midnight-blue tux with an open white collar, and I wore a barely-there white dress.
“We’re getting maaarrieeed,” I said, holding up our marriage certificate. Then Dawson helped me into the limo and got in behind, and Dave followed suit, taking a seat on the opposite side of the one we’d commandeered. I hadn’t bothered with a seatbelt, planting myself in Dawson’s lap instead, as his arms went protectively around me.
“Can you guys tell me how it happened? Who proposed?” Dave asked.
Dawson and I both looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
“It was him,” I said. “He’s the one who asked.”
“I believe you’re the one who brought it up in the first place. You said, and I quote, ‘I dare you to marry me.’”
“Nooo, we were giving dares, and I said, ‘I dare you to get married.’ I didn’t say to who.”
“Who else would I want to be with, if not you, love?”
I smiled so big then, and my forehead dropped to his. “I have a secret.” Then I whispered, “I love it when you call me love.”
“I’ll have to do it more often, then.”
Pulling back, I asked, “Do you call everyone that?”
“Only you.”
“No way. I would’ve noticed.”
“I’m more surprised that you haven’t.”
I was silent then for a long moment, before saying in a small voice, “Only me? Really?” When he nodded, I said, “Why?”
“Because you’re my girl. Always have been. Always will be.”
“Even when we fight all the time?”
Dawson chuckled. “Especially then.”
“Even when I call you Dirty Dick?”
“Somehow even then.”
“You know I don’t really hate you, right?”
“I’d hope not, since I’m about to put a ring on your finger. Figuratively speaking, for now.”
“And you don’t hate me then either?”
“You can’t hate what you love.”
My eyes had widened then, the surprise in them evident, and I had a feeling my eyes looked the same way now. He was admitting…that he loved me? Oh my God. I kept watching, hoping drunk me would press that issue, but I hadn’t done that. Instead, I’d been distracted by something out the window.
“Ooh what’s that? Tunnel of Love…is that a ride?”
Dave said, “I believe it’s where you can have a drive-thru wedding.”
I gaped at him. “You can get married in a Tunnel of Love? In your car? Oh, Dawson, let’s go there. We have to go there.”
Dawson let out a laugh. “All the chapels in Las Vegas, and that’s where you want to get married?”
“Yessss. Who else can say they got married there?”
“Probably a lot of people.”
I slapped playfully at his chest. “I mean people we know.” Then my gaze went back to the window. “This is perfect. It’s perfect, right?”
“It is,” Dawson said softly, his gaze fully on me.
Past me hadn’t noticed, but he was looking at me reverently, and his words hadn’t just been talking about the choice in venue. I’d never seen Dawson look at me the way he was looking at me in the video. Or had I?
“So we can do it there? I think we should stay right here in the car,” I said.
“If that’s where you wish.”
I grinned down at him and teased, “Where I wish? Richard Dawson, why didn’t I know you say the sweetest things?”
“Because you never wanted to hear them,” he said, and then called out to the driver, “Sir, can you turn around? We’ll be going through the Tunnel of Love this evening, as my bride-to-be wishes.”
A few minutes later, the limo pulled in under a ceiling of star lights and cherubs and up to a drive-thru. The driver rolled down the back window, but I wanted the sunroof open instead. Before I could stand up, Dawson removed his jacket and put it on me.
“I suppose you can’t have a blue bride,” I joked, as we got to our feet and took our positions.
As Dave got out of the car to walk around to the side for a better view, I lost what it was we were saying to the woman standing at the window. I remembered her. She was Justice Sally Sue Titball, the woman with the purple hair and pink lipstick that had been one of the only flashes of memory I’d had from that night.
After the necessary paperwork and payment, we’d repeated the quick, standard vows with big grins on our faces, laughing our way through it, as though we couldn’t believe we were actually doing it. The ceremony, if you could call it that, was over so fast, five minutes at the most. But when she’d said, “You may kiss the bride,” it was like the world had gone into slow motion: Dawson cupped my face gently and gave me a beautiful smile that I returned. And then, ever so slowly, his lips touched mine, softly at first, and though I hadn’t seen what had gone down before we’d gotten in the limo, I knew that somehow that had been our first kiss. Then the driver pulled away from the window, heading back out to the street.
“Hey, wait,” Dave said, the camera shaking as he ran after the departing limo. “Wait up! You forgot me.” Then he slowed to a stop, his breathing heavy as he said, “Eh, that’s okay. I can catch a cab.”
THAT MADE ME giggle, as I watched him zoom in again on the limo in the distance, where Dawson and I were still entwined, our lips never having left each other. He kept the camera on us until we drove out of view, and then the screen blurred and the beginning notes of a-ha’s “Take on Me” began.
Goosebumps broke out all over my body as the song Dawson and I had always played to cheer each other up came on, followed by a picture of us with our arms around each other on the first day we met.
Oh my God…what is this? I thought, as the image moved into a video clip of us making faces at the camera as we sat at the dining table at Charles and Gail’s house making cookies, shoving the dough in each other’s faces. Then there we were, on the Slip ’N Slide at his ninth birthday party. Apparently we’d decided it would be a good idea to hold hands as we ran and then dove down the long slide, squealing the whole way down. And at the end of it, Dawson jumped up and helped me to my feet before we raced back to the start to do it again. Cut to our first day of junior high, and the excited expressions on our faces immediately changed to the picture of the first day of school the following year, where we looked like we’d rather do anything else. Then Christmas, maybe that same year, as I opened a gift Dawson had made in his woodworking class. I held up the carved angel and marveled over what a good job he’d done as Dawson proudly beamed next to me, a faint blush on his cheeks. On and on it went, and with every image that came up, it became clear that what Dawson and I had shared went beyond a simple friendship.
How had I never noticed the way he looked at me before? Or maybe it was only the way he’d looked at me when he’d known I wasn’t watching? It was like this video had been put together to show me just how much he’d…adored me? But it wasn’t just him—the way my gazes turned into something more than friendly as we finished our high school years and entered college wasn’t anything you could deny.
So Dawson had seen it. Had he known this whole time?
The next re
cordings that came up surprised the hell out of me—they were obviously videos taken on his camera of me dancing at the clubs we frequented when we hadn’t been on good terms. I was on stage, lost in the music and moving my hips in a way that made me wonder if he’d used these videos for an altogether different purpose.
So he’d been watching me even then? Even when he’d been Dirty Dick and I’d been Pita?
Then the song faded and another, “Happy Together” by The Turtles, began. And this time, photos I never knew he’d taken filled the screen.
The first, a montage of selfies in the car after we’d made our marriage official—since we’d driven off without our cameraman. The smiles on our faces were genuine, our eyes shining brightly with excitement at what we’d just done. And then later that morning he’d snuck a picture of us, me sprawled out on his chest as he kissed the top of my head.
The shots after that he’d apparently taken when I wasn’t looking: me, curled up in my recliner writing in my diary, a selfie he’d taken when I had my back turned the night I cooked that dreadful fish, a picture of me chatting with his mom as we untangled Christmas lights.
All these secret, hidden moments that I’d never known he’d ever paid attention to were projected onto the fifty-inch screen in front of me, and my eyes misted. These were the additions Dave had mentioned on the card. The ones Dawson had sent him to add. Which meant this video wasn’t just for the two of us—it was a gift. For me.
But more than that, the video was a message, a plea.
Take on me.
We could be happy together…
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Everything and Always
AS THE FINAL image popped up, one of us in college, me sitting in Dawson’s lap, his arms around my waist as I kissed his cheek, my hand went to my chest and I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Everything this video was showing me, if you hadn’t known us, showed a man in love. From the way he looked at me to the words he said, it was a side of Dawson that I never would’ve believed from hearsay. And yet there it was, staring me in the face. The man I’d pushed away at almost every turn.
“You weren’t supposed to see that yet.” Dawson’s voice from behind me made me jump, and I brushed the tears from my eyes before I turned around.
There was no telling how long he’d been standing in the doorway, watching me stare in shock at the video.
“Dawson…” I said, but nothing else would come out. What could I possibly say after all that I’d just seen?
When he pushed off the wall and stepped into the room, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was in all black today, boots, jeans, buttoned-down shirt, and his hair was down, one side tucked behind his ear. God, but the man was unbelievably attractive. Sexy. Confident. But it was the intent in his gaze that had me unable to move from the couch. I was frozen, at the mercy of the determination I saw there.
“I’ve let you push me away for far too long, Paige,” he said, stalking toward me. “I’ve given you your space. Let you run wild and pretend you didn’t care about me. About us. But that ends today.” As he rounded the couch, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood, I could only look up at him. And when he stopped in front of me, he held out his hand for mine, and then pulled me up against him.
“Paige,” he said, cupping my face, “I know you’re strong. I know you don’t need to rely on anyone. I know you crave your independence, and not being allowed your freedom would suffocate you. I don’t just know and accept that—it’s what I love about you. I don’t want to change who you are.”
Apparently the tears weren’t done falling yet, because Dawson blurred in my vision again before warm streaks ran down my face, and his thumbs gently brushed them away.
“We’ve made our mistakes, but getting married wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t the way I’d planned for this to go, but it’s the way things shook out, and for that I’m fucking glad. Because I couldn’t have gotten your stubborn ass to see what’s in front of you any other way.”
I choked out a laugh as he bit back a smile.
“You know I’m right,” he said. “It’s okay, you can say it. ‘Dawson, you’re absolutely right. I can’t fucking live without you.’”
Laughing harder, I put my hands on his wrists. When the laughter faded, I said, “You’re right. I really can’t fucking live without you. And I want to hate that…but I can’t.”
Dawson closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he hadn’t been expecting those words to come out of my mouth. When his eyes opened, there was a fire blazing behind them.
“Now, do you know what I really want?” he asked.
My lips tipped up. “No, what do you really want?”
“I want to be the goddamn reason you can’t wait to wake up in the morning. I want you to be unable to sleep if I’m not there with you at night. And I want to be the only fucking man that you let come near you when you’re moving those hips like you’re having sex on the dance floor.”
I stuttered out a laugh. “That’s not asking for much.”
“With you, I want everything.”
My stomach flipped, a fire burned in my veins, and this time, I was the one who made the first move. I grabbed a hold of the back of his neck and crushed my lips to his, telling him with no uncertainty that I wanted all of that and more.
There was nothing soft in this kiss; it was merely an outlet for the words left unsaid that came bursting out in a hot explosion of tongues tangling and lips claiming. It left me lightheaded and breathless, and when we pulled away, it was a long moment before we could speak.
“Does that mean you agree to my terms?” Dawson said.
I shook my head, but couldn’t hold back the grin on my face. “When did you get so damn bossy?”
“I’m serious. You’re a hell of a kisser, but don’t let me walk out that door because you’re too stubborn to finally say out loud what you want.”
“You calling me a chicken?”
Dawson looked around. “I seem to be the only one spilling their guts here. Better hurry or I’ll make you beg.”
“I’d love to see you try,” I said. “Okay, well, before I confess my undying devotion to you, I have a couple of questions.”
He tapped his watch. “You’ve got five minutes…and go.”
“How did you… I mean, how did you even manage this? The video? And Dave… How did that even happen?”
“Long story short, we ran into Dave at the bar and told him we were getting married and that he should come along and film it. Actually, you said that last bit, and your reasoning was because you wanted to remember, since Goldschläger might leave holes in your memory.”
Holes? More like complete blackouts.
“Which I now realize was a better idea than I’d originally thought,” Dawson said, following my train of thought.
“Okay…” And now for the answer I’d been wondering about since the video had ended. “How long have you wanted us to happen?”
Dawson’s brows rose. “How long do you think?”
“I asked you first.”
“Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, love.”
I waited for him to laugh or give some sort of indication he was joking, but when that didn’t come, I said, “No, really.”
“You asked, and I told you. But if you want me to be more specific, when did I know I’d fallen for the feisty pain in the ass next door? That would be the day you came over crying about that asshole tennis instructor. I’d never wanted to hurt someone like I wanted to hurt that guy, and it was then when I also knew I never wanted to see someone break your heart again. So I told you to—”
“Hold my head up high and stomp on every other guy’s heart out there.”
“Okay, that’s paraphrasing, but basically.”
“But still you never said anything.”
“I was advised by someone we both know and love that you needed your space. That we both had some growing up to do, and she was right. Even
back then I knew you’d never be happy if you didn’t get a chance to live a little. I’ve never wanted to hold you back. So if I had to bide my time until you were ready, so be it. I knew my end goal. It was just a matter of when.”
I pursed my lips. “So confident…”
“You forget that I know you, Paige Iris. I know every deep, dark secret you’ve ever had. I can tell when you’re lying and when you’re upset. I know which of your laughs are genuine and which ones you save for the people you don’t like. And I knew every time you fought with me, there was a passion there that could only come from love. So, yes. I was confident.”
And damn him. He’d done it. He’d made me lose my words. All I could do was stand there gaping at him as I tried to remember all the things I’d wanted to say to him, all the times I’d wished we might’ve been. But right then, the only thing that came out, was: “Richard Dawson. Damn you for making me fall in love with you.”
The smile he gave me then was blinding. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear.” Then he did the unthinkable—he dropped down to his knee. “Paige,” he said, pulling a blue Tiffany box out of his back pocket, and my mouth fell open as he reached for my hand.
“Oh my God,” I said. “Are you serious?”
“I’m gonna do it right this time, dammit.” Then he opened the box and I gasped. The ring he’d chosen was a dazzling yellow diamond, one that would have me sinking if I ever fell off a boat. When my wide eyes met his, he gave me a smirk. “You didn’t think I’d have my girl walking around with something no one could see, now did you?”
“Wow… If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were making up for something, but since I do know better…holy fuck.”
Dawson’s grin right then rivaled the shimmering brilliance of the diamond. “For all of the reasons I’ve already said, and for any that remain unsaid, I want you to be my wife. To remain my wife. Not because you have to be. But because you choose me. Just as I’ll choose you every day of my life from this day forward. Paige—my Pita—will you marry me?”
P.I.T.A. (L.A. Liaisons Book 3) Page 18
