Taking her hand again, Arthur gives Grammie another kiss, and they continue their way down the aisle. Music swells around them, and I feel my heart soar. Across the aisle from me, I see Fiona has completely given up on trying not to cry. Tears stream down her face as she applauds, and she laughs as she looks at me. I reach my hand out to her, and she takes it so we can make our way back up the aisle as well. Behind us, the throngs of friends and family who have come to celebrate with the happy couple make their way out of the ceremony and toward the reception hall.
After the peace and elegance of the ceremony, the reception is joyously the opposite. Flashing lights, loud music, and a flowing bar have everyone dancing, singing, and celebrating, but in the chaos, I lose track of Fiona. It's not until people have started filtering toward the buffet that I’m able to find her again. Grabbing her hand, we run out of the crowd and toward one of the lounge areas scattered throughout the venue. We drop down breathlessly onto a plush velvet couch and lean in to share a brief kiss.
"What do you think of all this?" I ask as she drops her head down to rest on my shoulder.
"It's crazy," she says. "But it's definitely Grammie."
I laugh, nodding.
"Yes, it is. But what about us? Is this what you want our wedding to be like?"
She shakes her head.
"No." Glancing down at the diamond on her hand, she gets a softer smile on her lips. "I want something smaller. Something just about us."
A loud cheer from the dancefloor draws our attention, and we turn to see Esme sitting in a chair being bounced around by several of the men.
"I don't know," I say. "That might have to happen."
Fiona laughs and kisses me another time before we return to the celebration.
By the time we get back to Grammie's house, we are both exhausted, but not tired enough to stop me from making love to her hot, slick body in the shower as we wash away the wedding. Satisfied and content, we curl up on the couch in front of the fireplace. As the wood crackles and dancing light fills the dark room around us, I know the hours spent in the blistering sun chopping this summer were totally worth it. Fiona sighs happily and melts against me, cuddling closer under the thick blanket. I touch a kiss to the top of her head.
"I love you," I murmur.
She sits up suddenly.
"Here," she says, her eyes wide.
"What?" I ask.
"Here," she repeats, looking around. "It's perfect."
"I thought you were moving into my house after we get married," I say, "but if you want to stay here, that's fine."
"No, not for after we get married. For when we get married. Let's have our wedding here. This is where we met. It's where we fell in love. Both times."
I shake my head.
"Only one time," I say. "I only fell in love with you once. I never fell out. I just fell deeper." I kiss her, letting my tongue dip into her mouth. I will never get enough of her taste. "I think it's perfect. If this is what you want, this is where we'll get married."
She smiles happily and settles back down to cuddle with me. A few seconds later she makes a sound like a sad coo.
"What's wrong?"
"What's going to happen to the house after the wedding?" she asks. "Grammie is moving to Florida in just a few weeks."
Since she is no longer welcome in the retirement community, Arthur is having a house renovated for them. It sits on the edge of his orange orchard, and I know Grammie is looking forward to this new chapter of her life.
"I don't know. I can't picture us selling it."
"No," Fiona says. "I can’t bear to let it go. It means too much to me."
"We could just pick the whole thing up and put it on the grounds of my house. Then our children can use it as a playhouse."
Fiona laughs, shaking her head.
"You are such a freaking snob."
"You know, we're probably just going to end up with all of Grammie's friends at the wedding."
"And Esme."
"And Franklin and Mr. Norton."
"He has a first name."
"Not in my head."
"That's alright. That sounds perfect to me. It doesn't matter who's there. As long as I have you."
"Nothing will ever keep me away."
Our lips meet briefly, and I rest back on the couch, holding Fiona tight against me. It took so long for us to get here, but there wasn't a second that wasn't worth all that we have ahead.
Epilogue
Fiona
Three years later…
I cock my head. "It still doesn't look right."
My husband groans. "I know it doesn't, Fiona."
"What’s wrong with it?"
"I don't know."
"You have the instructions right in front of you!"
Cade gives an exasperated sigh, and glares at me.
"Those instructions are extremely misleading. They don't make any goddamn sense."
I watch as he tries to pry apart two of the pieces of the playhouse after realizing he spent the last fifteen minutes putting them together incorrectly. Considering that is all the progress we've made on the playhouse so far, I don't have very high hopes for it getting done today. The rest of the pieces are spread out across the grass around us, many of them obscured by the late afternoon shadow cast by Cade's house. That shadow wasn't there when we first started. Neither was the borderline homicidal scowl on my husband's ordinarily handsome face.
I look back at the patio where Grammie, tanned and golden from her days spent walking around the orange grove, sits with our precious daughter in her lap. Arthur is beside her, poking hamburgers on a grill like he's waiting for one of them to tell him they're finished. Cade is a good man for turning his grill over to Arthur today. Of course, he only did it because he was going to be busy building the playhouse he is most definitely not building, so I'm not sure how long Arthur will remain the Honorary Man of Flame.
"Ruby is only eight months old," I tell him. "I don't think she needs a playhouse yet."
"She's going to be running around before you know it, and I want her to have a house to play in."
I gesture toward the sprawling mansion in front of us.
"Like that ten-bedroom house right there? With a drawing room? Why can't she play in the drawing room?"
"She deserves her own house to play in." The pieces finally separate, and he grabs the instructions. Reading over them, he picks up another piece. "These are exactly the fucking same."
"Give me the instructions. Maybe I can figure it out."
Cade snaps, "I am perfectly capable of building a boxed, prefabricated playhouse, Fiona."
"Can you? The evidence isn't looking good for you."
"I completely converted the basement and the attic at Grammie's house. I repaired the stairs and the floor and the outside. I also found and reopened three secret passages."
"I know," I say, running my hand across his back to comfort him. "You did an amazing job with that house."
"You know, at this point, it really would have been easier to just pick up that house and bring it here. Grammie can use it while she's visiting."
"Again, Cade. Ten bedrooms. Ten."
He grabs a handful of the screws and little brackets that have spilled out of a torn plastic bag in the grass.
"It's all of these stupid fiddly little pieces," he says. "And these instructions. Who wrote these? Some kind of idiot, obviously.”
I stifle a laugh. He glares at the pieces again, then suddenly stands up and starts across the grounds in long strides.
"What are you doing?" I call after him. "You left all your tools!"
"I'm getting the stuff for the fire pit," he calls back.
"Yay, s'mores!" Grammie shouts.
I look back at her and see her holding Ruby's little hands up in victory.
"Why are you starting the fire pit?"
"I'm burning this thing," he says. "Even the little fiddly things."
"So, no playhouse?"
&nb
sp; "I'll build Ruby her own version. Then, I won't have to follow instructions."
I laugh as he stomps away toward the shed. I know exactly what that means. He's going to start with a small child-sized playhouse, but we're going to end up with an expansive guest house.
Maybe I can convince him to add in a few hidden passages. I will happily lose myself with Cade anytime, anywhere. I know he will always be there to find me.
THE END
Book Three - The Protector
Prologue
Grant
I stand in the corner of the room, a glass of whiskey in hand. Chaos reigns around me. The hotel suite is filled to the brim with people, none of whom I really know. Sam invited them. I told him he could invite a few people – maybe some women – but it looks like he went out and invited half of Chicago. Go figure.
That's my best friend for you – not that I can see him anywhere in the throng of people.
There are plenty of women here, that's for sure. Beautiful women at that. I can't really complain too much on that count. Sam certainly has his pick of ladies tonight. I choose to stand off to the side, alone, and nurse my drink instead.
A bubbly blonde stumbles over to me, wide grin on her face, and puts her hand on my shoulder. She stares up at me with big, brown eyes that are sparkling with lust and desire. She’s attractive, but I’m not in the mood tonight. Besides, I've never really been into blondes anyway.
“Your friend says you're a Marine,” she says, slurring her speech.
“Former Marine, yes,” I say, focusing my attention on the party.
This is our regular hotel suite whenever we're in Chicago – which seems to be more and more these days. Sam wants to move the business here for good, but I'm not sure I want to live in the middle of the big city again. I'm just not that into crowds, or the hustle and bustle of city life. I prefer a slower pace of living, and a hell of a lot more peace and quiet than I’ll ever get here. Like at the cabin I bought in Colorado a couple of years ago, where I spend most of my time these days.
Sam loves it here though. He loves the frenetic energy of the city. The urgency and immediacy of life in a place like this. He's always been the life of the party – someone who wants to have a good time. I'm happy to just stand in the corner, watching everyone else get wasted and embarrass themselves. I've never been as much of a wild party guy as Sam.
The blonde reaches out her hand to shake mine. I do the polite thing and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“My name’s Petra,” she says.
“Grant,” I say, taking my hand back.
Petra bites her bottom lip as she runs her hand down my chest, batting her eyelashes seductively. I know that look on a woman's face, and while some men might enjoy it, I don't. Especially not tonight. I gently grab her wrist and remove it from my chest, pushing myself away from the wall.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To find Sam,” I say.
“He's in the hot tub,” she says.
I continue walking, but Petra is following fast on my heels. She steps up beside me and gives me a wink.
“You know,” she purrs. “I didn't bring a swimsuit –”
“Neither did I,” I mutter. “And I don't plan on getting into the hot tub either.”
Her smile fades, but she continues to walk beside me anyway. She trails along, walking with me all the way up to the private patio on the roof. Just as I suspected after not seeing him downstairs, I finally spot Sam. What I didn't expect was that he only had one woman in the hot tub with him.
She's petite, with short brown hair. They're facing away from us, so I can't see her face, but from the back, she looks adorable. Just Sam’s type: he likes adorable, petite girls. The two of them look close and I almost feel bad intruding, so I stop short on the stairwell.
Petra, on the other hand, has no shame. She pushes her way past me and keeps marching toward the hot tub. I take a few steps and grab her by the shoulder to stop her. She spins around to face me and reaches up, yanking my hand off her.
“Go back downstairs, please,” I say, sighing.
The standoff lasts for only a few seconds. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she glares at me and stomps off, down the stairs – louder than really necessary – leaving me alone with my best friend and the cute brunette I don't know. Their backs are to me, and if they'd heard Petra's unnecessary temper tantrum, it doesn't seem to faze them. Or, they have the good grace to not embarrass me about it. Looking at the way they're sitting, they seem so caught up in one another that they probably didn’t even notice.
The brunette is resting her head on Sam's shoulder, and they're whispering and giggling back and forth. It's so cute and sweet, I can't turn away, nor can I suppress the smile on my face. Sam might like to party and have a good time, but I know he's no player. He's a one woman at a time kind of guy, always has been. He needs to find himself somebody he can settle down with.
I turn to walk back downstairs when I hear Sam raise his voice. It seems so out of place, given the cute, romantic scene I just witnessed, that I turn back around for a moment to make sure everything is okay.
“I'm not meeting with him, Tasha,” he says, his voice firm.
“Why not? My dad is dying to talk to you,” she says. “So is my uncle. I've told them all about you already, and they're excited.”
Already talking about meeting the family? I smirk, reminding myself to give him a ration of shit about this later.
I'm already halfway down the stairwell when I hear them getting out of the hot tub. I glance back in their direction, but only see Sam. He's drying off, a frustrated look on his face. The brunette wraps her arms around him from behind, and probably because he's at least a foot taller than her, it's a sweet gesture.
She's so tiny compared to him, and it warms my heart to see it. I've sworn off dating for a while. Ever since my ex cheated on me with half of Chicago, I can't bring myself to trust anyone again. But I do yearn for that closeness with another person. And more than anything, I want a family. So does Sam. I pray that things with the brunette work out, but if not her, then with someone else. No one deserves that kind of happiness and contentment more than him. Especially after everything we've been through.
Sam stops drying off and turns to Tasha. He wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head. I still can't see her face – it's buried in his chest now. They look so cozy and adorable. He hasn't mentioned seeing anyone, but they look very close. A lot closer than two people who just hooked up at a hotel party. No, these two know each other and are involved already.
It does make me wonder why he hasn't mentioned it.
Either way, I'm happy for him. Maybe that's the reason he wants to move back to Chicago full time. Hell, I can't blame him. If I had someone here, I'd probably move back too.
I walk the rest of the way down the stairwell, back into the room. Music is blaring, voices are raised, and the laughter is punctuated with the sound of glasses being broken. Several women in short skirts are dancing close together – obviously for the male audience around them who are shouting and cheering them on.
At one point in time, while in college, I might have been into this scene. Maybe I'd be one of those guys egging the girls on to make out – maybe even take it further. Back before I joined the Corps. Before I watched some of my best friends – my brothers – die. My time in the Corps changed me – I think for the better, in most ways. But, I'm no longer the party guy I used to be. Now, it just looks kind of sad. Now, I just want to get everybody the hell out of here and go to bed.
I scan the crowd, eyeballing everyone there. I'm pretty sure Sam doesn't even know most of these people. I know he's hoping I meet someone – which could explain the excess crush of bodies in the room – but this isn't the way for me to find the love of my life. A one night stand? Sure, but that's not what I want. None of these women speak to me right now. None of them light that fire in my belly. And none of them are going to he
lp me get over my ex.
I walk over to the laptop that's hooked up to the speakers, punch a few of the keys, and put a stop to the music. Everyone stops what they're doing and stares at me, as if waiting for me to make a speech or something. Most of them know who I am, they know this is my suite and my party – along with Sam, of course. And speaking of the devil, he walks back inside, the brunette – Tasha, I remind myself – trailing slightly behind him.
“Alright, party's over,” I announce.
The crowd groans loudly, and in unison, but with some coaxing, I manage to get them moving toward the door. Sam shakes his head, grinning at me, but he doesn't stop me from throwing everyone out. He takes the brunette's hand, and without saying a word, the two of them disappear into his room.
After everyone finally clears out, I'm left alone in the wrecked hotel suite. The white leather sofas are trashed and stained, but we'll pay to have them cleaned. We always do. This life used to be fun for me. I used to be known for partying until the sun came up. Not anymore. Those days are long over, and my desire for peace and solitude outweighs everything.
At least Sam seems to have found someone. That much I'm happy about.
I pour myself a drink and walk over to the large picture windows. I stand there, staring down at the darkness of Lake Michigan beyond the glass. I finish my whiskey in silence before pulling the curtains closed.
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