by Jen Davis
Warmed by his words, she took a quick shower and changed into her favorite jeans and a blue pullover top that matched her eyes.
They rode in his truck in comfortable silence, until she recognized their destination.
“Majestic!”
He smiled at her enthusiasm and parked the truck. They walked in hand-in-hand, straight to the booth where they’d sat so months before, making a memory. They didn’t even need to check the menu, both ordering the same thing: a Deluxe Burger for Liv and a Majestic Special for her man.
As they ate, she told him about her day and filled him in on what happened with Devon. Being with him here felt so natural. So right.
“I’m going back to work in a few days,” he said, dipping a French fry in some ketchup. “The Burgundy Street house is almost finished.” Chewing his food, he pulled out his phone and opened his photos. “Take a look.”
She flipped through the pictures, slowing down to appreciate the shots of the kitchen. “Those cabinets are beautiful. You guys have really outdone yourselves.”
“I want it to be ours.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I love you, Olivia Turner. I want to marry you and have kids with you. And I want to live in this beautiful house with you and grow old together.” He dropped to his knee, and the restaurant went silent. “Make me the happiest man on this earth. Marry me.”
His broad face was so earnest; his brown eyes, big and clear. There was nothing she wanted more than to see his face, kiss his lips, every day for the rest of her life. “Yes. Yes to the house. Yes to the kids. Yes to growing old and wrinkly together. I would love to marry you.” As one, they rose to their feet, and he spun her in a quick circle next to the booth.
The restaurant broke out in cheers.
“Only one condition,” she whispered in his ear. He froze. “You’ve got to give me a preview of our wedding night as soon as we get home.”
He relaxed and nipped at her shoulder. “Then we’d better get out of here right now. You’re in for a long night.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Brick
He didn’t understand at first why his grandmother had wanted her ashes scattered at Piedmont Park. Not until he picked up her urn at Magnolia Green, and an elderly woman with a walker stopped him in the residents’ hall. He didn’t know her name, but he recognized her from the music room where he often found his grandmother.
“You’re Sylvie’s boy, right?”
He nodded. “Yes ma’am. I’m Br—Jonathan, her grandson.”
The woman gestured for him to follow her toward the day room. “She talked about you, you know? All the time. Told everybody about your construction job and bragged on the flowers you brought her…and the treats.”
When they arrived in the common area, he held out his arm to help her settle in a chair. He took the seat next to her and waited for her to continue.
“Sylvie was my best friend. She had a lot of regrets. She talked about them too, dictated the letter to me for you.” That solved one mystery. “One thing she was really worried about was whether you’d understand why she wanted you to take her to Piedmont Park.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Maybe I should, but I don’t.”
The woman nodded knowingly. “You were only a boy. It was before your father died, one day he wasn’t too far gone with the drugs. Sylvie said the three of you went out to the lake and had a picnic. She said your mama had bought you this little pocket racer the week before, and you ran all around with it.”
He wracked his brain for some trace of the memory as the lady continued. “It wasn’t really an extraordinary day by most people’s standards. Sylvie cherished the memory because it was the closest she says y’all ever came to something normal. Your mom couldn’t go with you because she was working, but she packed the picnic with whatever she could find. Cheese sandwiches. Dill pickles. And a big bowl of Jell-O.”
“With three spoons,” he whispered. The memory still wasn’t entirely clear, but he had flashes now of the day at the parl. “I think there was a kite.”
“That’s right. Someone who had been there before you left it on the ground because it was torn. You spent hours with it, though, determined to make it fly. The afternoon she died, she was still thinking about that day, wishing she could’ve given you more like it.”
“It helps to know she wanted to. I wish she would’ve told me.”
“In the end, I think she wished she had too.”
***
Olivia came with him to set Grandma’s ashes free at the park. After he told her the story from the nursing home, she insisted on packing them a picnic with grilled cheese sandwiches, dill pickles, and Jell-O. She even packed three spoons.
One for Grandma, she’d said.
He didn’t remember any more of that day, but the snippets he recalled at Magnolia Green gave him some comfort.
It was Liv’s idea to bring a kite with them. Together, they flew it beside the water, after they released Grandma’s ashes into the wind.
“Maybe we’ll bring our children here one day,” she mused.
For a moment, he allowed himself to fantasize about building a family with her. A beautiful, blond pixie of a little girl. A son with his dark hair and her sparkling eyes.
He would teach them how to play ball. He’d go to their school plays. He would make them feel safe.
They’d never have to fly someone else’s discarded kite. Or cling to shards of broken memories to know someone loved them.
“I’d rather bring them to the Majestic,” he whispered. “All the best memories are built there.”
EPILOGUE
Liv
“I’m sorry the entire crew couldn’t make it.” Liv surveyed her dining room table now bursting with family and friends helping them celebrate the holiday. “We might have had to be creative with seating, but I hope they know they’re welcome.”
Jonathan lifted her hand and kissed the back. “Cy has a thing with the guys in his old Ranger unit, and Matt is with his kid. They’re with people who care about them, don’t worry.”
He knew her so well.
She had never been so happy in her life. Now she wanted to spread her joy to everyone around her.
She and Jonathan had only been in the new house for two weeks, but it already felt like home. Carol’s framed Dare to Dream list hung on the wall in their bedroom, now with red checkmarks made next to the last two entries.
They’d had a quiet Thanksgiving at Izzy’s and it was lovely, even though Will was still recovering from his gunshot. Now he was almost back to his normal self, she was determined to do Christmas the way she remembered it from her childhood: loud, crowded, and filled with laughter.
Izzy helped her cook a huge turkey with a sweet and savory cornbread stuffing. They argued over how much celery to use, the same as when they were kids. Beth, a new friend she’d made at the gym, brought macaroni and cheese.
Kane brought corn on the cob still in the packaging from KFC. He shrugged as he handed it over. “Hey, sweetheart, corn is corn.” He was right. It tasted fine.
Jonathan’s boss, Xander, brought a huge Greek salad topped with red onions and feta cheese. His young assistant Robby came with him, carrying two big pitchers of iced tea.
It was perfect.
She stood to clear the table, but Jonathan blocked her path and pushed her back down to her seat. “What are you doing?” she giggled. “Does this mean you’re in charge of the clean-up?”
His smile was soft. “I’m a little late. I should have had this ready when I asked you to marry me.” He held up a black velvet ring box. “But you don’t think I’m gonna miss giving you a way to let the whole world know you’re mine.”
Tears filled her eyes as he opened the box to reveal a familiar braided gold band and a solitaire diamond engagement ring. “It’s perfect, but how—”
“It was your mom’s.” He spoke quietly. “Your sister’s been saving it for you since she died.”
&n
bsp; A short nod from Iz confirmed his words. Tears tracked down her face as her future husband slid the sparkling ring on her finger. The braided gold ring she’d given him months ago—the one modeled after the wedding band—never left his pinkie.
“I love it.” She rose, tugging him to his feet, and buried herself in his arms. The table erupted in cheers and catcalls, but she kept her focus on the man in front of her. “And I love you. Now, we’d better get on with planning this wedding if it’s going to happen before the baby is born.”
Jonathan stopped breathing and grabbed the back of a chair for support. “You’re—”
“Pregnant? Not yet.” She wrapped her fingers around the front of his shirt and whispered. “But once all these people get out of here, we can get working to change that.” The doctor had given her a clean bill of health at her check-up last week and the green light to start a family if she wanted.
A whoop went up from Kane at the end of the table. “Sounds like a good thing no one brought dessert.”
“Oh, I’m having dessert,” Jonathan growled. He lifted her into his arms and started for the stairs. “Merry Christmas. You guys can all let yourselves out.”
CHAPTER ONE
Amanda
Nathan’s fingers dug into the tender skin of Amanda’s inner arm. “How many times do I have to tell you? Fundraisers for my office are not opportunities for you to run your mouth.”
She clenched her jaw against the urge to tell him to fuck himself.
“Do you have any idea how many women would give their eye-teeth to be in your shoes?” he hissed, tightening the pressure of his grip.
More than she could count, most likely. In his late thirties, society considered Nathan Shaw one of Atlanta’s most eligible bachelors—handsome, rich, and from a political powerhouse family as old as time. His perfectly styled blond hair framed an aristocratic pale face with blue eyes and expertly arched brows. He never left his penthouse dressed in anything less than befit his station. The man was practically Georgia royalty.
He was also an arrogant, entitled bastard.
“Actually, Abe,” he mocked her voice in a high falsetto, “I think the money would be better spent on a domestic abuse shelter.” He shook her so hard her teeth clacked together. “We might as well flush it down the toilet.”
“He asked my opinion,” she gritted, her head beginning to ache.
Nathan slammed her against the wall, the back of her skull bouncing off the plaster. “My opinion is your opinion, and you damn well know it.”
He let go of her, and she slid to the floor. Hanging his tuxedo jacket on the back of one of the tall chairs he kept tucked under the island in his high-end kitchen, he appeared to be done punishing her.
Her instincts screamed otherwise. She curled herself into a ball, protecting her head, as a vicious kick landed to her lower back.
“If you are going to be at my side, you will behave as your breeding should dictate.” His voice no longer betrayed his anger. He locked it down, replacing it with a honeyed cadence of practiced ease. Measured. Controlled. “Do I make myself clear?”
Only one answer would allow her an escape from this. She lifted her head. “Yes,” she murmured.
He graced her with a serpent’s smile. “Excellent. Now get off the floor. You’ll ruin your dress.”
Her hindbrain shouted to scoot away from his outstretched hand, but the rejection might set his blood boiling all over again. She fought her instincts and wrapped her fingers around his.
He pulled her to unsteady feet, then released her hand. His fingers tugged on the strands of dark red hair escaping the simple chignon her stylist had created. “Your hair looks all tumbled, pet.”
Fuck.
Slowly, he unpinned the rest of her locks, the look on his face growing heated. By the time all her hair rested thick on her shoulders, she could make out the tent in his pants.
She swallowed back the bile burning her throat.
“Gorgeous,” he said huskily. “I want to unwrap you.”
Before she could move away, he yanked down the side-zipper on her shimmering strapless silver gown. It pooled on the floor at her feet.
So much for his concern about it getting ruined.
The cool kiss of air against her exposed skin made her shiver. All she wore now were her high heels and the tiny scrap of black lace masquerading as underwear.
Getting naked with him was never part of the deal. She bent quickly to grasp the expensive fabric and pull it up. It got as high as her waist before he locked his hand around her wrist.
“I think you need to be reminded who wears the pants in this relationship.” His voice dipped lower. “Perhaps what you really need is for me to take what I want and fuck your sweet ass. Maybe that will teach you your place.”
Gritting her teeth, she shook off the embarrassment of standing there half naked. “No.”
He probably could have forced her. Obviously, too many highballs had him crossing lines he’d only skirted in the past. There had been times he’d squeezed her arm too hard or pushed her away with a little too much force, but he’d never hurt her the way he had tonight.
Still, she’d been firm in the past declining any invitations into his bed. Her resolve wouldn’t change now. Or ever.
“Let me go.” She squared her jaw. “Unless you’re willing to do this against my will.”
A snarl twisted his face, and he clenched her wrist tighter. She stopped breathing, a cold sweat dotting the curve of her back.
Maybe she’d miscalculated. A dozen worst-case scenarios shuffled through her head. Nathan breaking her wrist. Breaking her arm. Forcing himself inside her.
Should she scream? Run?
Before she could even form a plan in her head, he blanked his expression, then let her go. “You know me better than that.” He gave her his back and moved languidly toward his bedroom. “I’m headed to bed. Don’t forget to leave the dress.”
She didn’t breathe until he left the room. Shaking all over, she kicked off the heels still binding her feet, then slid the dress off completely and draped it over Nathan’s jacket. It wasn’t hers to take home, just a rental he’d made for the night.
Gulping in lungfuls of air, she unzipped the small duffel bag on the counter. She shoved her head into the soft T-shirt, her arms getting caught for a moment before she could cover herself completely. She couldn’t get her sweatpants and shoes on fast enough. The idea of being naked and vulnerable with him so nearby made her stomach turn.
God, she hated this place. Hated the man who lived here.
And hated her father for putting her in this fucking mess to begin with.
Closing the door gently behind her, she speed-walked the hall to the elevator from Nathan’s penthouse. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the marble floor.
The doorman nodded politely and called the valet for her car. If he noticed the moisture in her eyes or the darkening skin at her wrists, he studiously ignored it.
Nathan had only tried to get her in bed once before, and at the time, he’d accepted her demure rejection with a profession of old fashion values. It fit with his image, even if his southern charm was nothing more than lip service.
Her own condo beckoned from just a few miles away, and though the traffic in Atlanta was usually insufferable, it would be an easy drive this late at night.
She caught sight of a shooting star as she slipped into the driver’s seat, and misery thumped harder against her chest.
Her life hadn’t always been like this.
There was a time she knew what it was to be loved.
It was a mistake thinking about it. Knowing how much better it could be, knowing she’d never have it again, only made a bad situation worse.
***
13 years ago
July
“Deny it all you want, Mandy, but I know you’re only wearing that tiny little dress to drive me crazy.”
Kane’s dark eyes gleamed as he dragged his gaze over her body. Stalki
ng toward her in long strides, he approached from the parking lot where his brother had dropped him off. His fingers flexed, as though he wanted to touch her, but he held back.
Her blood heated with his regard, and giddy laughter bubbled with the nickname he’d given her. “I’m not denying anything.” Tilting her head, she fluttered her lashes. “What other reason could there be?”
She gestured for him to step closer to the grass next to the fountain. She’d arrived at Grant Park a full fifteen minutes ahead of their date so she’d have time to set the scene, though the lush clearing and the water feature provided almost ready-made romance. Her heart beat double-time as he closed the remaining distance between them.
Hello, gorgeous.
Kane Hale had nothing in common with the buttoned-up snobs her father always picked out for her, which was probably part of the attraction. Frays peeked from the hem of his worn jeans, and his Green Day T-shirt hugged his wiry frame.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground before fitting his mouth against hers. Even after three months together, his kisses heated her blood.
Butterflies danced a riot in her stomach as she ran her hand over his damp close-cropped brown hair, then gripped his broad shoulders. He smelled faintly of shaving cream, and her fingertips fluttered over the smooth skin of his cheek.
His tongue swept the seam of her mouth, and she opened eagerly with a small sigh.
She could have forgotten they were in the middle of a popular park if a small dog hadn’t started yapping at her feet. Her eyes flew open as a gray-haired woman pulled on the animal’s leash and harrumphed, presumably at their very enthusiastic, very public display of affection.
Kane chuckled and took a step back. “See what you did? That old lady was practically scandalized.” Laughter danced in his eyes, and her heart swelled fuller than ever.
