Dirty Sexy Player

by Laurelin Paige

  On top of that there was recognition in her words. I understood what she meant about not wanting a sometimes dad. My father had probably been in my life more than hers, and I already knew, having never really thought about what kind of parent I wanted to be, that I wanted to be a better dad than him.

  “I have to get married,” I said to Callie, not trying to dismiss her, but cognizant of the other woman—the one who was waiting for me to say ‘I do.’

  Her birthright was the one I was here for.

  “I know,” Callie said. “That’s why I’d wanted to wait. Please, let’s talk more. Be angry at me. Be pissed. But, please, don’t make any rash decisions about this. Let’s talk first before you decide whether or not you’re going to claim Sebastian. Because if you can’t really be there, really commit to being in his life, then I don’t think you should be there at all.”

  She didn’t have a legal right to make that plea. Though, with the strings her father could pull in his office, it wasn’t a battle I would ever want to take up.

  And she was right, if I did want to be this little boy’s dad—Sebastian’s dad—my little boy’s dad, it had to be all or nothing.

  If I made this decision, it wouldn’t be for sometimes. It would be forever.

  I thought as quickly as I could with my head buzzing like it was. “I don’t leave for my honeymoon until Monday. Can I see you tomorrow?”

  We exchanged information, made a plan to meet, and then I escorted the woman who had changed my entire life out the door.

  When I was alone again I only had five minutes left before I was due to line up for the ceremony. Five minutes to get my thoughts together after this bombshell that Callie had laid on me. It wasn’t enough time.

  And yet I already knew what I wanted to do.

  I felt it in my bones. In the way my heart sang at the memory of those tiny dimples, perfect replicas of my own. In the way this was finally something of my own, something I could do right—of course I would be there for Sebastian. Even if it changed everything. Even if I wasn’t ready to be a father. I was ready to try.

  I wanted to try.

  And he wasn’t the only one I wanted to try with. If I was making long plans now, laying out a future, I couldn’t pretend anymore that this day-to-day shit was gonna work. I had to set anchors, had to plant roots. And maybe Elizabeth really didn’t want to be mine, but before I let her walk away, I had to try one more time to fight for her for real, fight like it mattered, starting today.

  Because if I was going to give my child a home, I wanted it to be perfect. And for me, perfect was the home I already had.

  Twenty-Two

  I tilted my face up as Marie put the finishing touches of gloss along my lips.

  “And Nana is already seated?” I asked my mother, who was fussing with the bow at my back.

  “Yes,” she said, losing patience with me. “I already told you Nana is seated. Along with Aunt Becky. And Grandmama already called and wished you a happy day.”

  “What about Weston’s parents?”

  “You know this would be easier if you would stop talking.” Marie gave me a stern look.

  I let my expression deliver my apology and parted my lips exactly the way she’d asked so she could finish her application. “All done,” she said after a minute. She dropped the gloss into her makeup bag and stood back, wiping her hands on a paper towel.

  “Oh, Elizabeth, you look gorgeous,” Melissa, my maid of honor exclaimed. She looked beautiful herself, in a midnight blue gown, simple and classic, exactly the style I preferred. Mirabelle had been a genius at finding the particular details she’d noticed I liked.

  And all for a wedding that didn’t even count.

  My mother came around from behind me and stepped back with Marie and Melissa to take me in. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Baby, you are stunning. Absolutely stunning.” She took my hand and pulled me over to the mirror so I could see for myself.

  My breath caught when I saw myself in the high-necked ivory Vera Wang gown. It was simple, with a halter bodice and an elongated silhouette. I’d elected for no train and no veil, the one unique detail the T-strap razor-back which I turned to admire now.

  I really did look stunning. Like a bride. Like a queen. A lump gathered at the back of my throat, and I had to swallow hard past it.

  “It’s too bad…” I trailed off remembering that Melissa didn’t know the truth and just squeezed my mother’s hand instead.

  “Yes,” my mother said, before Melissa could ask. “It’s too bad your father couldn’t have been here. He would’ve been really proud of you.”

  My mother’s cover-up only made the knot in my stomach tighten more, but I appreciated her effort.

  There was a knock on the door, and Melissa opened it to find LeeAnn Gregori. “Places,” she said. “It’s almost showtime.”

  Funny how she’d chosen exactly the right word—showtime.

  I hugged Marie and my mother, and they went off to take their seats. Then Melissa embraced me and slipped into the hall to line up, not as worried about being seen since she wasn’t the bride. I stayed behind the door, waiting and wishing for something impossible.

  The next knock, I assumed, was my cue, but when I opened it, Donovan was standing there.

  “Just came to check in.”

  I sighed, not really interested in seeing him. After he’d warned me off at the tux shop, Donovan had ended up going to France himself to work on halting the sale of Dyson Media’s advertising subsidiary and prepare for the upcoming merger with Reach. I hadn’t seen him since then, and I was grateful for what he’d done, apparently having slowed Darrell’s plans down. But it didn’t override my irritation that he’d said the things he’d said to me before he’d left.

  “I’m good,” I said. “It’s about time for me to go, so...”

  “I know. I just caught you. There’s something else I wanted to tell you,” he added, as though he was unsure how to say it.

  I looked up, my curiosity piqued. “Yes?”

  “I came here today with Sabrina.”

  My eyes rolled, and if I didn’t need it I would have thrown my bouquet at him. “More entertaining for a friend?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m keeping her for myself.”

  Keeping her for himself? As though she were property. As though she were an object passed between friends.

  But nevermind that chauvinistic choice of words that Donovan had used—did that mean Sabrina wasn’t Weston’s?

  I didn’t have to speak the question out loud, it was written all over my face, and Donovan answered it unprompted.

  “I led you to believe that Weston was planning to end up with Sabrina,” he said, seeming uncomfortable with his admission. “And that may have been more of what my plans had been than his. I thought you should know that.”

  “Oh,” I said digesting this information. That was quite a lot to take in and I only had a couple of minutes now until I was set to meet my groom face to face and exchange wedding vows. “It would’ve been nice to have known this, I don’t know, before today.”

  Before I’d written off any possibility of exploring the feelings Weston had sparked in me.

  “I’m sure it would have been. The main message isn’t any different, Elizabeth. I would still give the same warning, if you’d like to hear it. Weston has never settled down with a woman for more than two weeks. I appreciate that you’ve felt a connection between the two of you, but I don’t recommend you put any faith in that lasting. If you do, it’ll only get messy. There’s already a pool set up on how soon the divorce will go through. That’s advice given as a business partner who doesn’t like messes. But it’s also given as a friend.”

  “A friend?” I scoffed. “A friend would have told me the whole truth sooner and let me decide how to think and feel for myself. You just assumed you knew what was best for me.” Just like my father, I mentally added.

  I took a slow breath through gritted teeth and let it out before spe
aking again. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me and Dyson Media, Donovan. But if you don’t mind, I think maybe you aren’t qualified to step in as Weston’s protector anymore.” I stepped closer and put my hand on his arm. “That’s my advice, as a friend.”

  For a moment he looked like he might argue, but then he simply said, “Advice taken.”

  LeeAnn peeked in then and gave the signal.

  “Walk me out?” I asked Donovan, and with a nod, he led me to the foyer outside the Onyx Ball where the opening strains of “Appalachia Waltz” could be heard, my chosen processional just beginning to play. He left me standing behind my maid of honor where she waited, still hidden from view. And after she took her trip down the aisle, it was my turn.

  No going back now, even if I wanted to. My future was waiting.

  With my shoulders thrown back and my head held high, I stepped into the doorway of the ballroom, and the entire audience stood to face me.

  It was nerve-racking, and threw me for a moment to see an entire room standing at my presence, to have so many people looking toward me. It was a feeling I had intended to embrace, as I wanted to be the officer of a company that was so much larger than this simple ballroom could hold.

  It was more intimidating than I had counted on.

  But even with all eyes on me and the wave of anxiety that produced, the thing that made my knees buckle and the breath stutter from me so that I had to try to catch it in large gulps was the sight of Weston standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me.

  And everyone else in the room disappeared.

  What had felt like an overwhelming number of footsteps between us became simple and easy, like crossing a well-worn path, one I could travel blindfolded. I set him as an anchor and he reeled me in, and there was no way I was imagining the look on his face as I neared him. As though he’d never seen anyone more beautiful, as though he’d never wanted to look at anyone but me.

  As if I were his queen.

  When I finally slipped into place next to him he took my hand in his, and I could feel that he was trembling, or maybe it was me. I was glad that it wasn’t a time for us to speak, because there weren’t words that I could say in that moment. Nothing seemed to sum up the feeling in my chest. And whatever wisdom there was in remembering that all of this was a performance, that every bit of this was going to have an end, I couldn’t listen to any of that right now.

  There was just this. Now. Our hands joined together.

  Whatever happened after didn’t matter.

  The officiant welcomed everyone, the words he said already a blur even as they came out of his mouth, my head whirring too much to focus on any one particular phrase or sentiment. He did a reading, something we’d chosen early in the planning process, and then his speech began where he talked about the definition of marriage, where he imagined the life that we were creating together, and the future that we could bring to the earth as Mr. and Mrs. King.

  I let his speech go by, background noise to the pressure of Weston’s palm against mine. The way the warmth from his body traveled into mine was biology, I supposed, but right then it was mysterious and magical.

  For the rest of my life, if this was all I had to hold onto, just this, this moment and this connection—this connection that Donovan said not to make too much of—it would be enough. This magical, fascinating spark that ebbed and flowed and never broke. I couldn’t buy that anywhere. I couldn’t barter it from anyone else. How lucky that I’d managed to discover it and grow it with this man whom I never would have met if it weren’t for my father and his old-fashioned notions.

  Maybe there was something wondrous about that too. How things came around. How karma turned the tables.

  Then it was time for us to speak, for us to say our vows.

  The officiant instructed us to turn to each other and Weston took both of my hands in his, and I realized I’d been wrong about needing something special and original because even hearing the traditional vows I’d settled for come from Weston’s lips today, spoken while he looked at me the way he was looking at me, was going to be incredible.

  Even if he didn’t mean them, there was enough to build a fantasy around.

  But when he started speaking, I didn’t recognize the words that came from his lips.

  “I didn’t know what I was getting into when I met you, Elizabeth,” he said, and my heart started hammering so hard against my rib cage that I was sure that he and every person in the room could hear it. “I had no idea that my house would be cleaner or that I would be late to every event that we attended together. I certainly didn’t have any idea that you would change me so much. Not just me but the world that I live in, the world around me. How I think, how I feel, how I breathe. You’re in my heart, now. You’re my home.”

  His voice caught, and he had to pause. “You’re my home, and for as much of your life that you let me, it would be my honor to be that for you.”

  And then it was my turn, which wasn’t fair, because I was tearing up, and if he’d done this, if he’d made up these vows on the spot just to get a reaction from me, then it worked. Everyone in the room would be fooled—including me.

  But if he really meant them…

  God, I hoped he meant them.

  “Elizabeth,” the officiant prodded.

  “Yeah, I got this,” I said, and the audience laughed. I took a deep breath and tried to find words that would equal his. “Weston, you knock me off my feet every time I walk into a room. You frazzle my head and you make my insides do somersaults and somehow you make me braver than anyone I’ve ever known. I’ve never felt more wanted and important and worthy than I do when I look at myself through your eyes. And how you make me feel about myself is only a fraction of how I feel about you. I don’t want you to ever let me go. I want to serve all my days beside you as your queen.”

  The rest of the ceremony went by in a daze. We exchanged rings and it didn’t feel awkward or pretend—it felt real.

  It was real.

  And when it came time to kiss the bride, we reached for each other like we were starving and a kiss was the only thing that would nourish and bring us back to life.

  Afterward, there was chaos and confusion and hubbub, and LeeAnn was rushing us along to our next destination. The ballroom was being changed over to fit our reception in the very same space, and we were hurried out to take photographs. Some of these were to be alone and some with family, including Darrell, and I knew there wasn’t time for chatting or trying to figure out what had just happened on that podium in front of everybody.

  Nevertheless, Weston pulled me into the event room across the foyer, an area we had reserved for breakfast earlier in the day, and when LeeAnn scolded him, saying she needed us right then, he said, “One minute with my wife,” with such finality that she backed off.

  And a shiver ran through my entire body because I was his wife.

  He closed the door and I wanted to jump into his arms and kiss him some more, wanted to tear him out of his so carefully fitted clothes and ravage his body, but even more I wanted to ask him, needed to know, “Did you mean it?”

  “I meant it. Every word,” he said practically speaking over me.

  Just like the ceremony, we were standing face to face, our hands held in each other’s, this time with new matching rings on our left hands.

  “I meant it too, Weston, I meant it too. I want to be with you.”

  “I want to be with you, too,” he said kissing my face everywhere, quick and urgent. “I want my home with you. I want a life with you.”

  “I do too. I was so scared that you didn’t. I thought—”

  “I know. I should’ve—”

  “No, I should’ve told you.”

  We were talking at the same time, kissing and laughing and apologizing. And everything inside me threatened to burst. I wanted to throw open the door and yell to the whole room, Everyone, it’s real. Weston and I are real!

  “You make me so happy,” I told him instea
d, knowing I only had a second, and I couldn’t say anything out there.

  “When you don’t want to kill me that is,” he added, joking.

  I nodded and laughed. Another explosion of joy went off inside of me as I imagined our life ahead, us living together, taking over my father’s company. “You’re going to love life in France.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ve been there before. When are we going to France?”

  “Well, we’ll live there. To run the company.”

  Weston chuckled. “What do you mean, we’ll live in France?”

  It was my turn to chuckle. His forgetfulness was becoming legendary. “You’re kidding, right? It’s always been the plan that I’ll live in France. Dyson Media is headquartered in France. My father lived in France.”

  He took a cautious step back from me, dropping my hands, and sticking one of his in his pocket. “No, no. You can be a shareholder without having to live in the country.”

  “But you know that I want to be more than a shareholder. I want to be on the board. I want to be an officer.” His expression didn’t budge. “Weston, you know that was always the plan. That’s what you’ve been training me for all these months.”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “You’ll have the subsidiary. You’ll merge with Reach and you can still have the business there. Is that what this is about? We can still live there and you can still have your company.” We’d just found each other. And he was saying we couldn’t be together already?

  No, I wouldn’t lose him this fast.

  “Elizabeth, I can’t. I—”

  LeeAnn knocked on the door, and came in without being invited. “You guys, the photographer is waiting! And your guests! We have to go!”

  “Weston?” I asked, not caring that LeeAnn was still standing there. I was begging, pleading with everything I had, by saying just his name.

  He looked at our wedding planner and back to me, and shook his head one final time. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I can’t go with you.”