by Marie Force
“Oh,” she says, her smile faltering ever so slightly.
“Not because I’m bringing you, but because I expect them to make a big deal out of it. I’m afraid that’ll scare you off.”
She flattens her hands on my chest and looks up at me, all sunshine and light and everything I need to be happy. “Nothing could scare me off.”
“You say that now. Wait until you get a belly full of the Dempseys all at one time.”
“I say that forever.”
I release a deep breath and let the tension drain out of me. What do I care if this is a big deal to my family? As long as I have her there with me, it’ll all be fine. “Let’s get going.”
Honey packs up the potato salad and cookies she made this morning and gathers the bunch of sunflowers from her Gran’s garden that she cut for my mom, as well as her camera bag that she rarely leaves home without.
I help her carry it all out to my truck and get her settled before I walk around the front and get in the driver’s side. We back out of her driveway, and she reaches for my hand, something that’s become a habit I’ve grown used to. She holds my hand as we drive out of town to my aunt and uncle’s ranch, where the party is being held.
When we arrive, I let go of her hand long enough to go around the truck to help her out, shouldering her bag of food as well as her camera bag. I grasp her hand again to walk across the wide expanse of brown lawn, around the sprawling ranch house that was a second home to me growing up, to the backyard, where a tent protects guests from the heat of the West Texas sun.
The pool is full of screaming kids, including my nieces and nephews. My eight-year-old nephew, Liam, lets out a shriek when he sees me. The next thing I know, he’s racing across the yard to jump on me, wet bathing suit and all. I release Honey’s hand so I won’t drop the little monkey.
“Uncle Blake, are you gonna swim with us?”
“You bet, buddy. Just let me say hi to everyone, and then I’ll be right there.”
“’K.” He looks past me to Honey. “Who’s she?”
Smiling at the blunt question, I tell him, “That’s my girlfriend, Honey. Can you say hi to her?”
“Hi, Honey. That’s what my mom calls me.”
“My Gran called me that so much that everyone started calling me Honey.”
“That’s cool.” He begins to squiggle, wanting to get back to the pool.
I let him down, and he runs off. I look up to see my parents walking over to us, hand in hand as usual. They know I’ve been busy lately, but until right now, they haven’t known why. Judging by the delighted expressions on their faces, my arrival with Honey is good news.
“Honey!” Mom says. “It’s so nice to see you!”
“You, too, Mrs. Dempsey.”
Mom hugs Honey. “Oh, please, call me Joan. We’re all adults now.”
I can see that Honey is touched by Mom’s genuine pleasure in seeing us together. “Thank you, Joan.”
“And I’m Mike,” Dad says, giving her a hug and then giving me one. His grip is extra tight, and when he lets me go, I notice his eyes are damp.
Right in that moment, I finally understand how difficult my years of grief have been on them, which disposes of the nerves I arrived with. They’re thrilled to see me happy again.
Smiling widely, my mom gives me a kiss on the cheek and hooks her arm through mine. They escort us into the tent, where we’re swarmed by aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends, including, I realize all at once, Jordan’s parents.
My stomach drops to my feet, and I release Honey’s hand. I’m not sure why I do that, but it doesn’t feel right to hold hands with another woman in front of them.
They come over to greet me with hugs, smiling as they always do. Never once have they made me feel responsible for the loss that shattered us all. Rather, they’ve continued to treat me like a member of their family, and I’ve never been more humbled by that than I am right now.
Mrs. Pullman gives Honey a hug. “It’s so nice to see you, Honey. It’s been too long.”
“Yes, it has.” Honey returns her warm embrace, but I hear the emotion in her voice. She gets how hard this is for me, and I love her for that.
“It’s so nice to see you both,” Mr. Pullman says.
“And to see you smiling, Blake,” Mrs. Pullman adds. “That’s the nicest thing of all.”
“Thank you,” I say softly, humbled by their unwavering support of me, even when I feel I don’t deserve it.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Mom says. “This calls for a celebration. Mike, let’s get out that champagne we brought and toast to happy new beginnings.”
I glance at Honey and notice her smile as well as the bright shine in her eyes.
My family loves Honey and me together, and so do Jordan’s parents. I reach for Honey’s hand and hold on tight to my love. Honey’s Gran was right when she said we can’t change the past. We can only live for the present, and my present is pretty damned sweet with her by my side.
At the end of our second month together, Blake talks me into taking a week off, and we drive ten hours to South Padre Island, south of Corpus Christi. I’ve never been here before and fall instantly in love with the beach, the palm trees and the relaxed vibe. It’s here that I find out how much he loves to fish, and he patiently teaches me to enjoy it, too.
He planned the whole getaway, right down to the resort with the spa where he booked me a massage that I thoroughly enjoy.
I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation of any kind, and it’ll take a lot to top this one. We spend days in the sun, nights in bed and sleep in every morning before ordering room-service breakfast.
“I never want to go home,” I tell him on our last morning.
“We can come back any time you want.”
“Any time?”
“Any.” He kisses me. “Time.” He kisses me again and drops something onto my chest before he pulls back.
It’s a small black velvet box. I stare at it like it’s dynamite.
“Open it,” he says, clearly amused by my reaction.
“I… What…”
“Open it, Honey-do list.”
My hands are shaking so hard, I can barely get them to cooperate as I fumble the box open to reveal a stunning diamond solitaire. “Blake…” His name escapes from my lips on a long sigh. I did not see this coming. Not yet anyway.
He takes it from me and removes the ring from the box. “I love you, Honey Carmichael. I want to spend every day for the rest of my life the same way we’ve spent the last two months—together. We’ve known each other all our lives, so it’s not like we’re rushing into anything.” He takes my left hand and kisses the back of it before sliding the ring onto my finger. “You brought me back to life with six little words in a bar, and now, I’m asking you to be my wife. Will you marry me, Honey?”
I’m completely blinded by tears and seem to have lost the ability to speak. All I can do is stare at the incredible ring he chose for me.
“Honey pot? You might want to say something here. I’m sort of dying.”
“Yes, Blake, yes. I’ll marry you. I love—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence, because he’s kissing me so fiercely. We roll across the bed and only stop when he’s settled on top of me. He gazes down at me, his heart in his eyes. “Did you really say yes?”
“Did you really ask me to marry you?”
We both say, “Yes.”
“Are you happy, Honey?”
“Do you really have to ask?” The question has become one of our favorite refrains, and he smiles in acknowledgment.
He cups my face and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I never thought I could be this happy again.”
Hearing him say he’s happy is wonderful, but experiencing his happiness through frequent smiles, jokes and laughter is even more rewarding. “I brought a surprise for you, too,” I tell him.
“Ohh, what is it?”
“Let me up, and I’ll get it.”
He kisses me and lets me out of bed.
I go into the closet to retrieve the item I brought from home, hoping we’d get the chance to re-create a significant moment in our relationship, this time when we’re both sober. The light streaming in through the window reflects off my ring, and my heart gives a happy lurch. I can’t wait to tell Lauren, Julie, Scarlett and everyone at home that we’re engaged. I so wish I could tell my Gran, too, but I suspect she probably knows.
“Where’d you go?” he calls from the bedroom.
“Coming!” I try not to think about the last time we did this and how much it hurt. I suspect it’ll be better this time when we’re both aware of what’s happening. I return to the bedroom and get back into bed.
“Where’s this surprise I was promised?”
I open my hand to reveal the tube of lubricant I took from his bedside table. I watch with satisfaction as his eyes go dark with desire.
“Honey…”
“I don’t like that I remember it and you don’t. I thought maybe we could fix that.”
“You… you want to?”
“If you do.”
His eyes roll back in his head dramatically. “If I want to,” he says on a snort. “Fucking hell, have you met me?”
“I’ve met you and I love you and I trust you and I’m going to marry you, and I want to have this memory that we both share.”
He caresses my face in that tender way of his that tells me how much he loves me. “I’ll never forgive myself for that night.”
“I forgave you a long time ago. It’s long past time you forgave yourself.” I kiss him and press my breasts to his chest, a move that usually gets things moving right along. This time is no different. His arm bands around my back, keeping me right where he wants me for a devouring kiss.
“You’re so amazing, Honey. I can’t believe you were right here all this time.”
“We weren’t ready for this before now.”
“No, I don’t suppose we were. Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”
“You’d better not.” The very thought of it strikes terror in my heart. “I’ve been abandoned enough for one lifetime.”
“That’s not something you ever need to worry about again.”
“So…” I take the cap off the lubricant. “Shall we have some fun?”
“Oh yes, darlin’, we absolutely shall.”
It’s much better the second time, maybe because my partner is sober and aware in a way he wasn’t the last time. That’s not to say it’s easy, because, hello, The Cock is never going to be easy to take there, but it’s definitely better. He takes his time and puts all the focus on making it good for me, but I can tell by his exaggerated groans that it’s good for him, too.
I’m on my knees with my head resting on my folded arms as he takes his own sweet time about it. He gives me a little and then retreats to do it all again, each time going deeper than the time before.
“Talk to me, Honey. Tell me how it feels.”
“I’m expected to talk while you’re doing that?” My voice sounds squeaky and higher in pitch than usual.
“Yeah,” he says, sounding tense. “I can’t see your face, so you have to tell me you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. You?”
“I’m about to explode, but other than that, all good.”
I smile at his confession, and I love knowing he likes this so much. That makes the pain of his entry worth the inevitable pleasure we’ll both take from this incredibly intimate act.
I lose all track of time and space and anything that doesn’t involve him and what we’re doing. I have no idea how long it takes for him to fully enter me, but once he does, I begin to focus more on the pleasure than the pain.
His fingers find my clit, which is hard and tingling with endless desire for this man who is going to be my husband.
I still can’t believe he proposed. I’d had no idea that was coming so soon, and now that we have our future planned out, I can relax and enjoy every second we have together.
“Need to move, Honeybun,” he says on a groan. “Gotta move.”
Seeking purchase, I fist the sheet and grit my teeth, preparing myself. “Okay.”
“Stop me if it’s too much.”
“I will.”
I hear and feel the squirt of more lubricant before he begins to withdraw and then presses back into me while continuing to stroke my clit.
“Ah, Honey, God… I’ve never seen anything hotter than your sexy ass taking my cock.”
I grunt out some sort of reply that’s not really a word or anything he can understand, but he gets it. He knows I’d stop him if I didn’t like it as much as he does. I push back against him, making him groan loudly, so I do it again and again until we’re both moving and coming with shouts of pleasure that will wake the people next door to us if they’re still sleeping.
My orgasm is so intense that I can’t be bothered to care if we’re disturbing our neighbors. I can’t seem to tamp the keening cries that come from deep inside me. He’s right there with me, pressing deep into me and heating me from the inside with his release.
We land on the bed in a sweaty pile of limbs. As he’s still buried deep inside me, I feel every twitch and aftershock of his orgasm.
“Amazing,” he whispers. “Just when I think it can’t get any better than it already is, you blow my mind.”
“You liked it?”
“You have to ask?”
I laugh softly at his predictable reply.
“I loved it,” he says, “almost as much as I love you.”
“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”
“I’ll never get tired of telling you.” He holds me close for a good long time before he withdraws, slowly and carefully. “I hate to say it, but we need to hit the road.”
“You know, we’re both self-employed, and if we choose to take one more day for ourselves, no one can fire us.”
“I do like the way you think, land of milk and Honey, but I’ve got an important meeting tomorrow with a new client, and I’ve done nothing to prepare.”
The new nickname makes me giggle. “Oh, all right. If you’re going to be all responsible about it.”
He kisses the back of my shoulder and then runs his tongue over the shell of my ear. “I’ll bring you right back here for our honeymoon. Oh, another name for my love. Honeymoon. I like that one.”
My smile is so big I should worry about it breaking my face. We shower together and pack, and on the way out, I take a last look at the place where we got engaged, hoping we can get back here again sooner rather than later.
Blake holds the hand that now sports his ring as he drives his truck north toward Corpus Christi. We leave the windows open to breathe in the sea air as we travel along the peninsula. He’s got the radio set to a country music station out of Corpus, and the music, fresh air and the knowledge that he’s right there next to me where he’s going to be for the rest of our lives relaxes me completely.
I doze off at some point, my head resting back against the seat, happier and more content than I’ve ever been in life. That’s the last thought I have before disaster strikes.
Chapter Fourteen
This is a total fucking nightmare that I can’t seem to wake up from. One minute we were cruising along the highway heading toward San Antonio, and the next we’re hit hard from behind, so hard that I lose control of the truck and end up in a ditch by the side of the road.
I can tell immediately that I’m fine, but Honey… She won’t wake up.
My phone flew out of the cup holder and is now on the floor of the passenger side. I can’t seem to get my hands to work right as I wrestle my way out of the seat belt and try to reach my phone on the far side of the cab. My fingers close on it, and I focus on not dropping it. A knock on the window has me looking back over my shoulder.
The man outside pulls the driver side door open. “Y’all right, man? I saw the whole thing! Called 9-1-1.”
“I’m fine, but my girl, she won’t wake up.” This can’t be happening again. Please God, not again. I won’t survive it again. As much as I loved Jordan… No, just no. I can feel the hysteria forming in my chest, and suddenly I can’t seem to get air to my lungs.
“Let’s get you out of there,” the guy outside says.
“No, not without her.”
“I smell gas, man. You ought to get out. I’ll help you with her.”
“Shouldn’t move her.”
“Dude, you don’t have a choice. This thing could blow at any second. Let’s get you both out of there.”
Other people materialize from outside, and, working together, we manage to remove Honey from the cab of my mangled truck. We get her settled far enough from the truck that no one will be harmed if it does go up in flames. She’s so pale and lifeless, but the first guy assures me she’s alive. “Feel right here,” he says, grabbing my hand to press my fingers against the pulse point in her neck.
Feeling the strong beat of her heart makes me weep. I drop my head to her chest and beg her not to leave me. I want to feel her fingers sifting through my hair and hear her lusty laugh and watch her gorgeous eyes light up with love and pleasure and desire and a million other emotions. We just found each other. I can’t lose her. I just can’t.
The strangers who came to our rescue do what they can to console me in the endless time it takes for EMS to arrive in a frenzy of sirens and SUVs and ambulances. After the paramedics assess her condition, a decision is made to call in a chopper to transport her to a trauma center in San Antonio. That decision strikes absolute terror in my heart, even after the lead paramedic assures me that it’s only because it’ll be quicker than driving, not because she’s in danger of dying.
You can’t convince me. Even though it’s over one hundred degrees outside, I’m cold all over. I can’t stop shaking or recalling how beautifully, vibrantly alive she was just this morning when we got engaged.
“Blake.” I turn to Clint, who was the first to help us.
“They want you to go with her.” He points to the rescue helicopter that’s landing about fifty feet from where I’m watching this surreal scene unfold like an all too familiar horror show. “I’ll wait for the tow to get your truck. Don’t worry about anything.”
