by Amiee Smith
My stomach lurches at the thought of having to make all those decisions... be that disciplined.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have wanted to do any of that. It’s basketball season! There are concerts to go to! And songs to write and rehearse. Thank you, Lynn + Nick, for doing all the heavy lifting.”
“Speaking of basketball season, my dad called the Club and arranged for the Warriors game to play in the cocktail area,” Alex beams.
“What about their honeymoon?” Lynn asks.
Alan speaks to me. “Nick and Lynn are going to our home in Hawaii. You are more than welcome to join them. We will arrange a flight for you.”
Alex laces his fingers with mine, speaking quietly. “How about New Orleans? We could rent a place for a few weeks. Food. Music. Just you and me. Pep.”
I whisper in his ear. “Why do I get the sense you’re going to knock me up in New Orleans?”
“Here’s to hoping, sweetheart,” he whispers back, brushing a kiss over my lips.
“So, what do you think, Brit? Will you marry my son... again?” Alan asks.
I pull away from Alex’s embrace.
“I sincerely appreciate the effort you’ve all put into planning our wedding, but you forgot the most important part.”
“No. I didn’t,” Alex says, hustling over to Nick’s car.
He returns with a shiny black shopping bag with “Rocco’s Jewelers” printed in gold cursive font on the side.
“I had this designed for you a few years back, but I have some others here for you to choose for yourself. Family, will you help me out?”
Each member of my family holds out their hands, while Alex opens ring boxes, dropping them on their palms. I brush my hair behind my ears and lift my sunglasses, surveying each ring. All black diamonds.
Sophia holds a thin, white-gold micro-pave band, covered so thoroughly in tiny natural black diamonds, it appears black.
Alan displays a large, triangle-shaped black diamond ring, on a white-gold band.
Nick cradles a 2-carat, pear-shaped black diamond ring, with a halo of white diamonds, set on a platinum band.
Lynn presents a wide eternity ring, with channel-set natural black diamonds in a white-gold band.
And for the finale, Alex lowers to his knees once again, and extends a ring almost as exquisite as him. A 5-carat, round black diamond with princess cut white diamonds on each side, mounted on a platinum band encrusted with more white diamonds.
“Every ring was handmade. All the diamonds are conflict-free and were selected for their ethical and environmentally responsible origins,” Alex says, flashing his most charming smile.
“Good job, hunky husband.”
“Which one do you choose, Brit?” Alan asks.
“All of them. We’ll have each ring sized to fit a different finger so I can wear them all at the same time.”
“Alex said you would want to do that,” Nick chuckles.
“We’ve got almost nine years in the game. Dragon knows his wife likes variety.”
“Is it yes, Brittney? Will you marry me today?”
“Again, I appreciate all you’ve done. But you’ve still forgotten the most important part.”
“When I spoke to the event manager this morning, she assured me there will be plenty of hot sauce and you can order as many entrées as you want,” Alan states with pride.
“Um, thank you. A girl has gotta eat and everything tastes better with hot sauce. But that’s not it.”
I know most women wouldn’t trip about this issue, but considering all I’ve gone through for this marriage, I deserve to have what I want. And if Alex has not figured me out by now, then I’m better off on my own.
“Oh! I spoke to Malachi this morning. I arranged flights and accommodations for him and Alisha and the baby, and all of your band, and Luce. Roy is driving down now.”
“That was presumptuous, but wonderful. You’re a wonderful manager. But that’s not it.”
“Pep? Is that it? I can go get her, but with all the wedding stuff I thought daycare would be better.”
“No. Daycare was the right choice. I don’t want the most perfect dog to steal my moment with all her cuteness.”
Alex’s face drops and it’s as if I can see the circuits firing in his mind. Please jazz deities, make him remember. Please jazz deities, make him remember. Miles. Charlie. Coltrane. Ella. Billie. Duke. Aunt Mia. Man who fathered me. Make him remember!
“Sister-friend, I can’t handle this Pasadena heat, and my feet hurt from all the walking we’ve done this morning. Can we go inside? I’m certain we can figure this all out in time for the wedding.”
“No. We need to figure it out now,” I say.
Old me would have honored her request, ignoring my feelings. Going along to get along. But those days are over. I’m better than that.
Alex rises from his knees, his blue-green eyes calm and relaxed.
“Really, Brit? After everything we’ve been through? It’s still not enough?! It’s not enough that I will spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to make sure you and our children are happy and healthy?”
While he sounds angry, he’s not breathing fire. He walks to Nick’s car, opening the rear and retrieving several white shopping bags.
“It’s not enough that my family and I spent almost an hour this morning having a very heated, bordering on inappropriate, discussion in the middle of Neiman Marcus Beverly Hills debating which shoes to buy you for our wedding? I finally gave up and bought eight pairs of Manolos. I figured Manolos are like hot sauce, they go with everything.”
He places the bags on the grass in front of me. I squeal and jump up and down, clasping my hands against my chest.
“You did good, husband! Our wedding extravaganza is now complete! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“But she hasn’t even seen the shoes!” my father-in-law exclaims.
“Oh, Alan. It was never about the shoes,” my mother-in-law says.
I leap over the bags and into the muscular arms of the man I will spend the rest of my life making sure is happy and healthy.
Circling my arms around Alex’s neck, I press my mouth into his soft lips and kiss my husband with all the lightness in my heart. A kiss to seal our forever. A kiss to bind our love.
A kiss to soothe his nerves...
Because for the rest of his life, he’ll have a devoted wife-boss who can always remember her monthly donation to Planned Parenthood, but often forgets to take her birth control.
Because for the rest of his life, he’ll have three wickedly smart, talented, model-beautiful daughters (each born 18 months apart) who don’t listen, hate going to school, and will want their own Maltipoo.
For many years, he’ll come home to dinner and basketball on the sofa with his wife, three daughters, and four female dogs. Each will do or say something outlandish to get her daddy to half-smile or breathe fire.
To circumvent his wife’s parenting clause that her children can live at home for as long as they want, he’ll bribe his imperfectly perfect daughters with cars, cryptocurrency, and clothes to get them to complete their undergraduate degrees, get jobs, and move out of the house (and take their dogs with them).
Because for the rest of his life, he’ll have all the members of the Smart Girl Mafia as his clients and nine female billionaires he acquires after Willingham Wealth Management purchases a small woman-owned firm in San Francisco.
Yes, Alex’s future is female.
I break the kiss and drag my nose over his smooth cheek before whispering in his ear.
“Are you ready for our forever, Dragon?”
“Yes, Brittney. Always.”
THANK YOU FOR READING
Emma + Will are up next in the Smart Girl Mafia Series:
Book 4 is coming soon.
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GRATITUDE
The early fans of the Smart Girl Mafia Series.
Mom.
J.B.
K.H.
Dae.
Rob, Christina, & Tina.
Aunt Pat.
My manuscript consultant, Bijou.
My editing team.
My cover designer, Angie.
The Divine.
MEET AMIEE
Amiee Smith is a contemporary romance author from California. She writes diverse, west-coast style, sexy stories about smart, successful, strong women and hot, alpha men. Her current series is the Smart Girl Mafia about a group of thirtysomething girlfriends who find love where they least expect it. When Amiee is not writing and publishing books, she’s hanging with her girlfriends, seeing a concert, binge-watching a show, cooking a meal, or walking around her city. Find her at www.AmieeSmith.com
