Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3)

by Halliday, Suzanne

  “Torn dress straps, missing undies, and scraped knees. You mean that time?” Tori snickered. “My god, you were a mess.”

  They nodded at each other. What Tori referred to was the moment when she knew that fighting for what she wanted was going to change the course of her life.

  “And now look,” she continued. “You guys survived a huge storm and with the power of your love, you helped him be the man he wanted to be. You bring peace to his soul, Meghan. He tells my husband all the time that he didn’t know it was possible to be this happy.”

  “Cameron seconds,” Lacey added. “He told me not long ago that he actually wasn’t sure Alex was gonna make it until you came along.”

  Meghan sniffed, but it was too late. The tears were already overflowing and she could feel her nose starting to run.

  Victoria stood and held her glass up. “So Meghan Elizabeth O’Brien. Thank god the road brought you to our little corner of the desert.”

  “Hear, hear,” Lacey said.

  “To our Irish sister, may you always have shelter from the storm, tea beside the fire, laughter to cheer you, the love of all you hold most dear, and everything your heart desires. May you and Alex enjoy a love that never ends.”

  Angie and Lacey stood at Victoria’s side. Together, the three of them said, “We love you,” and—wham—the tears flowed like a river down her face.

  Much later, after too much wine and definitely too much food, they finally stopped when dessert pushed them over the edge.

  “I’ll never fit in my dress if we keep this up.”

  When Lacey belched and covered her mouth in embarrassment, they all nearly fell forward, face-first onto the table with laughter.

  “Well said, Ponytail,” Angie drawled.

  “I have something for you,” Meghan told them.

  “Oh, god,” Tori groaned. “Please. No scones. I’m stuffed.”

  From her big Vuitton bag, she pulled three wrapped gifts and slid them to each of the girls. “I hope you like them.”

  Angie looked surprised. As her wedding planner, she knew everything—but she didn’t know about this. Making quick work of the wrapping, they tore into the boxes and gasped in unison.

  Tori growled, “Holy fuckballs.”

  Lacey. Dear, sweet Lacey looked at her wide-eyed. “Are these real?”

  Angie clutched a hand to her heart. “Red. My god.”

  “The Major helped me pick them out.”

  “Seriously?” Tori questioned.

  Meghan smiled at each of them. “Yep. Went into a store and everything.”

  She wasn’t sure which was better. Alex’s serious perusal of every goddamn pair of earrings in the store or the reactions from her friends when they saw the delicate pearl dangles topped with a cluster of dazzling diamonds. “It means everything to us that you’ll be standing by our sides in the church. We just wanted you to know that and to say thank you for helping us get here. I’m not sure if we’d been left to figure it out by ourselves if we’d have made it this far.”

  “How’d it go?”

  They were walking toward the hotel elevator, Meghan’s hand clasped in his as she sashayed across the marble floor in a pair of shoes he was positive were made to fuck with his head.

  “Oh, the usual.” She smiled. “Angelina went too far. Victoria’s mouth got off its leash, and Lacey got whiplash from all the eye rolling and head shaking.”

  “Did they like the earrings?” He led her to the elevator and took care of entering their floor on the keypad before taking her in his arms. He liked talking while he held her. She felt so good pressed along his front.

  He recognized the mischief in her sly smile when she told him, “Eh. Didn’t make much of an impression till I told them you picked ‘em out.”

  Alex was in mid-smile when she made a real pout that stopped him in his tracks. “I feel bad that Sophie wasn’t part of things. As your sister, she really should be in the wedding party.”

  “I told you, baby. Don’t get all upset and worried about her. She made it clear from the get-go that she wasn’t up for being a bridesmaid.”

  “I know,” she murmured. “But … the earrings and-”

  He swiftly interrupted and shut down the Sophia noise in her head. “No buts, Meghan. Remember what I told you. This isn’t about us and how we feel. Sophie needs a different approach. Just by respecting her wishes and not trying to change her mind, you’ve brought her to your side, and that’s fucking huge. If you want, we can get her something special too. How’s that?”

  “Oh, okay.” She gave in, but he could tell she wasn’t happy about it.

  The elevator opened, and they went hand-in-hand to the door of the suite. He listened to the cadence of their footsteps along the hallway and watched her walk in those damnably sexy shoes.

  “Somebody teased me with a surprise earlier. I’m still waiting.” He chortled.

  “Yeah, and you tried to turn it into something dirty.”

  Oookay. So this wasn’t about being coy. She was serious. Got it.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “You get a free ‘shut up’ to redeem at a time of your choosing.”

  Meghan wasted no time once they were in the privacy of his room. Pulling a small leather box out of the ridiculously expensive bag she carried, she then dropped the luxury item, totally forgotten, onto the floor.

  He loved that about her. She had the money to indulge in anything she wanted, but if it weren't for the dog and pony show of their wedding, they’d be lounging around in their shit clothes. And if she had a purse at all, it’d be some beat-up thing that could survive being thrown around in the desert. The money meant nothing to her.

  Taking his hand, she led him to the sofa and sat him down while she stayed standing. “I know we said no presents so think of this as your part of the something old and something new tradition.”

  After briefly holding the box to her chest, she handed it off to him. “I want you to have this.” She had his attention now.

  The square box was made of brown leather that looked quite old. In the corner was a small, gold embossed emblem that he did not recognize. Looking at her face, Alex saw the light in her eyes and felt the gravity of the moment. Whatever this was, she gave it from her heart.

  Carefully lifting the lid, he was floored when the contents were revealed. Nestled in a velvet holder was a Celtic heart lapel pin and a pocket watch, both gold and of obvious age.

  “Meghan,” he ground out as unnamable emotion swept over him.

  “They were my grandfather’s,” she said with a sigh. “Open it.”

  He couldn’t believe that his fingers were shaking, but they were. Her grandfather’s? Holy shit. Prying open the watch case, he found a flourish of engraving that spelled out the name, Aidan O’Brien. He was speechless.

  “My grandmother left it to me. She said if I ever found someone as honorable and family-loving as her Aidan to marry, I was to give them to my husband as a reminder of where I come from.”

  Shit, he was going to cry. He took the old lapel pin and stuck it on his jacket. Then while she watched him with a soulful smile, he attached the chain to a button on his suit vest and slipped the watch into a pocket.

  Fighting back the tears, he didn’t try to say anything—just put out his hand for her to take, and when she did, Alex pulled her gently and with a reverence that felt natural on his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  They stayed like that in silence, holding each other tight long into the night.

  “I’M EXHAUSTED,” SOPHIE announced right before she flopped like a rag doll onto the sofa.

  Heather watched her collapse and wished she could follow suit. They’d spent most of the day being pampered, massaged, manicured, pedicured, toasted with an abundance of champagne, and then cut, blow dried, and styled.

  She was rocking a fabulous new cut that made her long hair bounce and sway with every movement and her nails were polished more beautifully than she thought possible. Exhausted? Ye
p. But also, giddy with excitement and delight. It had been a long, long time since she’d indulged in an extravagant spa day.

  Being swept along with the bride’s posse of ladies and female family members, she felt like the odd gal out for all of a nanosecond. She’d been enthusiastically embraced from the moment this odd adventure started and was touched that everyone included her as if she’d always been part of the tribe. It felt awfully good and went a long way to erasing her fears.

  Ashleigh Marquez was bustling with Meghan’s mom, dashing back and forth from the kitchen to the parlor, bringing a bunch of fruit on a platter, a couple of carafes that smelled like coffee, and a round tray overflowing with home-baked cookies.

  “Sustenance.” Sophie chuckled. Grabbing two cookies, she poured a cup of the steaming coffee then returned to the sofa. “What the hell is on the agenda for tonight? Ang?”

  Taking a stem of grapes, Heather stuffed her mouth and said nothing. She was curious how Angelina was going to explain. Brody finally opened up and told her what to expect from the rehearsal dinner so when not a whiff of conspiracy wafted through the room, she was impressed. These women knew how to keep a frickin’ secret.

  She watched Mrs. Marquez as she sat in a big overstuffed chair. Immaculately dressed, she favored soft, sexy fabrics that made the most of her petite stature and draped herself with all sorts of scarves and dusters and who the fuck knew what else. The style was what the fashion mags dubbed ‘60s Boho Chic, and she pulled it off like someone born to represent her generation. The suede platform boots with the impressive heels made Heather jealous as fuck. She’d always been drawn to that look but never had the nerve to try.

  As she sipped a coffee, the older woman had this innocent expression that struck her as really funny. Beside her in a matching chair sat Meghan’s mother, also wearing an inscrutable and completely guileless look on her face. Man, they were good.

  Breaking out her mini iPad, Angie tapped and scrolled—like she didn’t know EXACTLY what was on tap—and finally looked around the room.

  “Well, let’s see. Uncle Eddie is coming by at five to meet with the bride.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Sophie quipped. “He owes me two bucks.”

  “What for?” Mrs. Marquez asked.

  “A bet,” she told her mom with a funny smirk. “He lost and I won.”

  Lacey, who was stuffing a cookie down her throat, paused and looked at Sophie with wide eyes. “Let me see if I understand what’s happening.” Cookie crumbs stuck to her lips as she brushed away what had fallen on her shirt. “That sweet, old man wearing the collar of a priest is engaging in betting?” She gasped in faux outrage. “My goodness. Isn’t that against the rules?”

  “Old man?” Alex’s mother laughed. “Just who are you calling old, young lady? He’s only two years older than Cristián, and truly, my dear, don’t be fooled by the collar. He plays a mean guitar and …”

  Angie quickly cut her off before she unintentionally spilled the Boston beans and ruined the surprise.

  “Anyway,” she drawled as she shot a hard glance at her mom. “Ed at five and then we all meet at the church at six. Quick run-through—the men will be clueless no matter how many times we practice so that part will be quick—and then dinner with the entire extended Marquez-O’Brien-Justice clan.”

  Meghan looked up. She’d been busy texting and wasn’t paying attention. “Everyone?”

  The whole room nodded. Probably not a smart move because she could see Meghan’s antennae go up. The woman wasn’t daft. She knew these people well and some synchronized and wide-eyed innocent head bobbing wasn’t going to pass without notice.

  “Dress code?”

  Victoria had a sudden cough to fight off, and Mrs. O’Brien found a speck of invisible dust to swipe off a table between the two chairs. It wasn’t a trick question, but somehow, Heather knew that the real answer would give far too much away.

  “For you, oh chaste one? Angelic white. Conservative. No flashing the Irish twins,” she jested. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, sis. Sending your man to bed every night with balls tinged a frustrated blue.”

  The pithy comment earned a half-choke from Alex’s mom, an embarrassed groan from Mrs. O’Brien, and a fluttering of giggles from everyone else.

  “I’ll say it for you because we all know you’re forbidden to say the words … shut up, Tori!”

  “What’s forbidden?” Sophie asked.

  Heather looked around the room. Lacey, Tori, and Angie were quietly smirking. The two moms just looked clueless.

  “Oh!” Tori laughed. “Didn’t you know? Your big, bad brother has laid down the law with Irish. She’s not to say shut up. Not if she wants to sit down the next day.”

  “Goddamit, Victoria!” Meghan shrieked. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Ooooooh! I’m telling on you,” Angie snicker-snorted.

  “What?” Mrs. Marquez demanded.

  Meghan’s mother turned to the gypsy-waif and clucked her tongue. “I believe what she said was that your son thinks it’s okay to put my daughter over his knee.”

  Heather almost vapor-locked. File this under Too Much Information. No way did she want to know that the groom spanks the bride. Or maybe she did. Meghan O’Brien was the absolute last person she’d ever imagine would have a submissive side. Hmph. Interesting.

  “Oh. Well, then. Guess my son didn’t fall all that far from the Marquez tree.”

  “Jesus,” Sophie muttered. “Really, Mom? You just had to share that?”

  Angie was cackling with glee. “It all makes so much sense now,” she hooted. “Explains why Parker’s folks don’t so much as blink when he pulls that caveman shit on me.”

  “What about you, Maggie?” Mrs. Marquez had the look of an imp up to no good. No wonder Angie was the way she was.

  Meghan slapped her hands across her eyes and groaned. “Ma, please. Don’t answer.”

  It was all so amusing that Heather finally gave up and started to laugh like hell. “Maybe I should be taking notes,” she choked out as the giggles jacked her up. “Can anyone explain to me what the function of a spreader bar is?”

  Everyone wailed with hysterical laughter. Everyone, that was, except Sophie. She either didn’t get the joke, was offended by the subject matter, or was better than all of them at hiding her reactions.

  “All right, all right. That’s enough,” Angie pleaded. “Everyone needs to go back to square one and get ready for tonight. We’ll all meet at the church. Oh, and by the way, we’ve arranged for limo buses to do the driving after that so take a cab to the church, okay?”

  Once again, Meghan picked up on the unspoken subtext but didn’t ask for clarification.

  A little while later, as she waited for Brody to swing by and pick her up, she was chatting with Victoria out of earshot of the others. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, Heather. I’m all ears.”

  “Well, won’t Meghan figure out what’s planned when everyone turns up at the church looking like the Kardashians?”

  The little woman’s hearty chuckle was bigger than she was. “Haven’t you noticed? If Big Daddy’s in the room, Channing fucking Tatum could saunter through naked except for assless chaps and she wouldn’t even look up.”

  She had a good point. But honestly, the same was true of them all. Heather didn’t think she’d ever been around so many people who acted so blissfully in love.

  Ummmm, hold on a second. True of all of them? Had she included herself? Was she a card-carrying member of the Blissful in Love Club?

  “Don’t worry,” Tori assured her. “That outfit you got? Brody Jensen’s face is going to melt off when he sees you in it, and if I know the rest of the Justice boys at all, they’ll be backslapping and high-fiving that poor son of a bitch into the ground. Hope you don’t mind but we don’t operate with a lot of filters where this stuff is concerned. I figure it’s in the water or something ‘cause all of them are ridiculously oversexed alphas with a proprietary st
reak six miles wide and a hundred miles long. Welcome to the club, sweetie.”

  “Father Ed is here Meggie. Better get a move on.”

  Shit, really? Meghan pushed a pile of crap away from the clock on her nightstand and checked the time. Dammit. Almost five and she wasn’t ready.

  “Ma,” she yelled just as her mother appeared in the doorway. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I thought you were in your room. Where’s my ankle chain?” she frantically asked. “I can’t find it and there’s so much shit in here it’s impossible to know where to look.”

  It was obvious her mother was biting off a laugh as she glanced around at the wardrobe carnage littering her usually pristine room.

  “Lord, Meggie. How many outfits did you try on?”

  Throwing up her hands in defeat, she wailed, “Everything looks like crap.” Pointing at a blue outfit that lay in a crumpled pile on the bed, she grumbled, “That was my first choice, but it made my behind look huge.”

  Glaring at her parent, she saw the amused expression and grumped some more. “And that? The brown sweater dress? That piece of shit is going straight in the trash. Plus size, my ass.”

  “Well, what about this?” Her mom held up a smart little black cocktail dress that she knew would look awesome, but she’d been trying really hard not to fuck with Alex’s head by wearing anything that started and stopped with the word sexy in the description. The clingy bandage-style dress with the neckline that should never see the light of day inside a church was perfect but completely inappropriate.

  “Ma,” she sniped. “If God was going to shit a brick because my arms were bare in my wedding gown, I think he’d be hurling lightning bolts if he got an eyeful of what that dress puts on display.”

  “Mmm, good point.” After a pause, she said, “I know just the thing. What about that white dress you wore when Alex proposed? You said he liked it. Very much, in fact. I know there’s a bit of cleavage to worry about, but maybe you can wear a little cover-up for the rehearsal. Like a sweater or one of those cute short shrugs.”