Fragile Illusion: Stag Brothers Book 3

by Lainey Davis

  THATCHER

  Shit got really real there at the Andy Warhol museum tonight, and I feel like I need a good, stiff drink. Except I'm leaving with Emma on my arm, and she doesn't drink alcohol. She and the other Cheswicks cried and hugged for awhile. Eventually her dad shook my hand and told me my sculpture was nice. I try to imagine how I'd react if some asshole told me he made art from my naked daughter, and I decide Mr. Chezz isn't all that bad.

  Emma wants to walk home, so I take her high heels from her, draping an arm over her shoulders while she walks barefoot along the sidewalk. "Did you really make that sculpture based on me?" she says, the street light reflecting off her green eyes and looking amazing. It gives me ideas. She's always inspiring my work, and I love that.

  I nod. "You looked like the dawn after a long darkness, naked and glowing. Aurora," I tell her. "I don't ever want to forget that moment." We walk in silence a bit more until I gather up the nerve to tell her what I really need to say. "Emma," I say, squeezing her hand. "I want to talk about us."

  "Hm?" she looks down, stepping over a pothole as we cross the street. I squeeze her shoulder and stop walking.

  "Chezz, I don't want to end things with you after the wedding this weekend."

  Her eyes dance back and forth, her gaze searching mine. "I need you in my life to keep calm in emergencies. You inspire me, Emma. Christ, do you know what you do for my work?" I gesture around. "All of that back there, that's you. That's all you. You are my muse." She starts crying now, and I rub my thumb on her cheeks, brushing away the tears. "Be with me, Chezz. Give us a shot." There's an eternity where my heart stops and she doesn't respond, and I think I've put myself fully on the line, raw and exposed, and she's going to turn me down. But then she closes her eyes and stretches up, grabs hold of my face with both hands, and sinks into the sweetest, best kiss of my life. Then I know she's mine.

  Forty-Three

  EMMA

  Nicole insists on giving me a ride to Ty and Juniper's wedding. Thatcher had to be there super early to deal with flowers and tuxes and stuff, but promised he'd come outside to see if Nicole approves of him.

  She spends an hour setting my hair in hot rollers in the morning, spraying my red locks into a cascading fountain of curls. "You look hot as fuck," she tells me as I slip into a pair of jade green strappy heels. They match the dress perfectly, and I twirl around, watching the skirt billow out. I definitely look ready for a celebrity wedding.

  Ty and Juniper are getting married in the conservatory, surrounded by Thatcher's glass of course, and because Ty and his teammates will all be there, security is heightened for the whole area. Nicole beams as we pull up to the guard blocking the street from through traffic. "I feel like I'm chauffeur for the rich and famous," she tells me. Then she leans out the window and tells the guard, "I'm delivering Emma fucking Cheswick to Thatcher Stag."

  He looks through the window over the top of his sunglasses and waves Nicole on. She squeals. "Nick, you're being ridiculous," I tell her. "They're just people."

  But I feel giddy when I spy Thatcher up ahead, waiting for me on the sidewalk. Nicole whistles and I don't blame her. Thatcher in a tux is pure elegance, pure sex, and all mine. He grins as we pull up, running a hand through his neatly-trimmed beard. He opens a door for me and whistles as I climb out. Nicole laughs, but Thatcher looks awestruck. "Chezz," he says. "You look so beautiful right now." His words are so earnest that I blush and squeeze his hand. "You ready for all this," he asks, gesturing toward the photographers swarming around the Escalades and Range Rovers bearing Fury players and their dates.

  Nicole sighs and clutches her hands under her chin. Then she leans over and sticks out her hand toward Thatcher. "Nicole Thomas, best friend. Damn glad to meet you, Thatcher Stag." He grins at her, shaking her hand. "You take care of our girl, now."

  He pulls me against his side and kisses the top of my head. "She doesn't need taking care of, Nicole. I need her to take care of me."

  When Thatcher says that, Nicole punches her horn and gives me a double thumbs up. "Emma, he's a keeper. Go mingle with the hockey stars, get me someone's number, and then go have hot sex and beautiful babies." I laugh as she peels out.

  Thatcher escorts me inside, where the entire conservatory seems to be in bloom to celebrate Juniper and Tyrion. Thatcher kisses my hand and leaves me with some other guests while he takes his place up front just as Tim and Ty enter the room. The trio of brothers standing tall, dressed to kill, is quite a sight to behold. I hear a sniffle beside me and see Anna Stag taking pictures of her grandsons, then dabbing her eyes with a hanky.

  I give her leg a squeeze just as the violins start playing and Juniper makes her way toward her beloved. Tall and sleek in a simple, elegant white dress, Juniper has eyes only for Ty. They make their way through the ceremony, holding hands. Ordinarily I find this kind of thing cheesy, but I can't help but smile during the vows when Juniper blurts out, "I'm keeping my name!"

  Ty smiles at her and squeezes her hands. He says, "I sort of thought you might, Junebug." When he leans in to kiss her, Thatcher pulls him back, scolding him for jumping the gun.

  After they are pronounced married, there's a loud commotion from the crowd of well-wishers. I bite my hand in glee when I see all Juniper's rowing friends line one side of the aisle holding oars. Ty's teammates line the other side of the aisle holding hockey sticks. The two sides form an unlikely arch, and Ty and Juniper walk through their friends, laughing. Smiling. Happy and in love. I catch Thatcher's eye and we share a moment until he walks forward.

  He kisses his grandmother's cheek and then, with a lustful look, squeezes my shoulder and asks, "Gram, can you excuse Emma for a minute? I need her." Anna Stag smiles and pats my hand as Thatcher tugs me into the hall.

  "Where are we going," I ask, looking around, until I realize we are in the hall where we first met. Where he took me for nefarious purposes. Things have certainly changed in the past month. "Oh," I say, running my hands down his chest. Ty picked out stunning grey tuxes to match his brothers' eyes and I let my fingers trail down the long tie, wrapping it in my fist and pulling Thatcher in for a kiss.

  He growls and boxes me in against the wall like he did that first night, nibbling my neck, and this time, I let him. Eagerly. "Emma," he breathes, "Do you want to know what I was thinking about during that ceremony?"

  I roll my head to the side as he kisses a trail up to my ear, down along my chin. He smells so good and I love these gentle touches. "How much your brother loves your new sister-in-law?" I ask him, playfully.

  He shakes his head and looks into my eyes. "No, Emma. I was thinking about you. How right you look sitting with my family, being here for my family's important days. I love you, Emma Cheswick."

  I feel a whoosh as my breath leaves my body. Oh, to hear these words from this man! Since he asked me to be with him the other night, he's been so present. We've barely spent a moment apart in all that time, and now, as I lean against the glass wall of the conservatory where we met, I know I feel the same. "I love you, too, Thatcher."

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  THATCHER

  "Just try your best to relax," Emma says, standing behind the couch and rubbing my shoulders. I have restless legs and can't settle my hands. This day is so intense. I look around the industrial loft we just renovated so Emma and I could finally move in together. I found a fantastic building in Emma's neighborhood that met all our needs--she can still walk to work, I have a studio for my furnace and kilns, and we have lots of space for her to set up a home office.

  Emma slides open one of the glass panels I made to separate different areas of the loft. In doing so, she lets in more light and I can see how hard she's worked to set things up for today. "You bought more chairs?" I ask, noticing that she's arranging comfortable seats around small tables with fresh flowers. Emma nods and dusts off her hands.

  "I think we're ready. Alice should be here soon with all the food." I nod and Emma kisses my cheek jus
t as we hear the groaning sound of the old elevator bringing up my siblings. Tim and Ty look about as relaxed as me, which is to say they're stiff and sort of grey.

  Today, we're going to introduce our father to our families. Throughout his time in rehab, he leveled out his antidepressant medication and went through intensive therapy to both face his grief and begin atoning for his choices. We all started receiving packages--birthday and Christmas cards to symbolize all those holidays he missed since our mother died. Letters expressing his regret that he missed all of our important milestones by allowing his grief be more important than our needs. We don't know if his liver has recovered enough to keep him healthy, but he's been sober for six months and we all agreed to have him over after we met with him a few times at his rehab. It's been hard emotionally, but I've had Emma by my side the whole time.

  Living with her really feels as seamless as breathing. Suddenly I had someone to come home to every night, an inspiration for my work, someone to collaborate with for ideas and challenges. I always thought it would be so much work for little reward to give myself to a woman, but Emma is my partner in every way. Hell, she's in the middle of a huge investigative story, but she set aside time this weekend to support me and my family. She reminds me every day that she's not going anywhere, and I trust her. I love the hell out of her, and I can see that she loves me right back.

  Petey squirms out of Tim's arms and runs over and climbs in my lap. I hold him tight, rubbing his warm, sticky cheek against my own. Normally we have all our family dinners at Tim and Alice's place, but everyone agreed it was better to have this first meeting at a more neutral space. I sigh and stand, slinging Petey up onto my shoulders. I hear the elevator start to move again, and my breath catches in my chest.

  Emma reaches up on tip-toe to kiss my cheek and squeezes my hand. "You can do hard things, Thatcher Stag," she says, looking into my eyes with those emerald orbs of hers. "I'm right here by your side and I love you."

  "I love you, too, Chezz," I say. And knowing that helps me feel strong.

  When she opens the door to my father, she isn't awkward or timid. She pulls him in for a quick hug and says, "Ted, hi. I'm Emma Cheswick, Thatcher's fiancé. We're so glad to have you here in our home."

  THE END

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