Just the Way You Are (1) (7 page)

He reached for her and she shook him off.

“I wouldn’t take the painkillers they offered.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’d done this reading, you know. I’d decided I wouldn’t do anything that might be bad for the baby.”

Jesus.

“And there I was, alone, missing my mother, and delivering my little girl’s corpse, and refusing the meds because I couldn’t do that to her. I knew it wouldn’t matter, but—” Her voice broke. “She’d been through enough and
someone
needed to protect—”

He pulled her into his arms and she sobbed silently against his chest, her body heaving under his hands. He just held her, like someone should have ten years earlier. Like he should have—would have, if he’d known.

When she’d finally calmed, he whispered, “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

“I’m screwed up, Harrison. I have more scars than you know and they’re not pretty. Why aren’t you running away?”

“Because”—he tilted her chin up so she was looking at him—“you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You’re kind and giving and so goddamn selfless it makes me crazy.”

“You’re not just taking on me. Don’t you understand? My father might be clean now, but he could screw up again. I can’t make any promises.”

“You father is part of your life, so he’s part of mine. For better or worse. We’ll handle it together. If you’ll let me in.”

She looked at the ground. “After my mom died, I used to imagine what her life would have been like if she’d never married my father. He put her through hell and if she’d married someone different…”

His chest ached. Had for days. He wiped a line of tears off her cheek with his thumb. He wouldn’t be whole again until she was sleeping by his side.

“You’re not your father, Stacey. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and caring. And I want you in my life. Will you please be my wife?”

She released a weak laugh. “I already am.”

He squeezed her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, and he relaxed for the first time in two weeks. “That’s pretty convenient then, don’t you think?”

She answered with her lips against his, and he was so grateful to be holding her again, to be tasting her again. He was afraid to let go.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured against his mouth.

He growled. “Not enough to answer your phone.” He scooped her off the ground, and she yelped.

“What are you doing?” If it was supposed to be a protest, it failed as she nuzzled her face into his neck, pressing her hot mouth against his skin.

He dropped the tailgate of his truck and set her on it.

The moonlight filtered through the trees and cast light across her face as she peeled her shirt over her head.

A groan slipped from his lips as she slid her hands down her body and unbuttoned her jeans.

“I want you,” she said softly, fingers finding the fly on his jeans.

He fisted his hands in her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. Her hand slid into his jeans, stroking him with feather-light touches.

When her hand fisted his cock, she moaned. “I want you inside me.”

He pulled back, his blood pumping hard and fast as she shucked her jeans.

She laid herself out for him on the bed of his truck, nude but for her bra—her hard nipples jutting against the lace.

“You’re beautiful.” He traced an invisible line between her breasts and down her stomach. He dipped between her legs, toying with her clit before circling around her sex. “You’re so wet, Stace.”

Her hips bucked, back arched. “Harrison.”

He grabbed her hips and pulled her forward. Never taking his eyes off her, he pressed the head of his cock against her opening.

She drew in a sharp gasp, eyes flashing on his.

He grinned. “I can watch you like this.” He ran his eyes over her full breasts, her soft stomach, and finally to the dark hair between her legs.

“God,” she murmured. “Harrison. More.”

He guided her hips as he drove slowly, deeply inside her, her pussy tight and hot around his cock.

She drew her knees up and pulled him deeper.

Their eyes held for stroke after stroke as he made love to her in the moonlight, her soft cries rising up in the air and mingling with the cicadas’ song.

He felt her getting closer and he found her clit with his thumb.

“Oh—” She squeezed her eyes shut.

He stroked her again, watching her parted lips as he pushed deeper.

She cried out as she pulsed around him, her orgasm moving through her whole body and squeezing him.

When her eyes flickered open again, he moved slowly, his fingers curling into her hips as he thrust into her.

He loved this woman, dreamed of her, fantasized about her, needed her. “Stay with me.”

She squeezed his wrist. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed deep a final time and let his orgasm ride over him.

Epilogue

Three Months Later

“How are you holding up?” Harrison asked, squeezing her shoulders.

“There are so many of them.” Stacey watched wide-eyed as Harrison’s family—
her
family—milled around her new kitchen.

Harrison slid his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest. “Yeah, second only to staying past their welcome, Duvals excel at the whole reproducing thing.”

The family had come to celebrate the completion of the house renovations. Harrison’s siblings and parents were here along with some cousins and a handful of people she wasn’t convinced were actually related. But everyone was happy and wine was flowing.

Across the room, Addison grinned at Stacey and held up her left hand—as if
anyone
needed reminded of Addy and Chase’s recent engagement, but Stacey grinned and leaned into her husband.

It had been three months of bliss. Her father had checked himself into a program. Stacey had never seen him so clean and so productive. She was proud of him and was beginning to believe this might last.

“Speaking of procreating…” Harrison murmured in her ear.

She turned to him and raised a brow. “Harrison Duval,” she hissed, “if you’re going to ask me to slip upstairs with you, I already told you I’m not doing that while your parents are here.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss behind her ear. “You’re such a spoilsport, but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“If you agree to make a baby with me,” he whispered in her ear, “I will be more than happy to wait until everyone is gone.”

She froze then spun in his arms. “You want…?”

His lips quirked in a smile. “If you’re ready.”

She grinned. “I am.”

“Okay!” Harrison shouted, pulling himself to his full height. “Party’s over, everyone!”

“Harrison!” Her cheeks blazed. “You guys, he’s kidding.” But people were already placing their glasses on the counters and exchanging goodbyes.

“Nope. I’m not kidding.” He drew Stacey to his chest. “I’m not apologizing either.”

Someone grumbled something about newlyweds, and Kaleb crossed the kitchen to give Harrison a high five.

Harrison turned her to face him. “Remember,” he whispered, “you have to pretend like you like me.”

Then he kissed her, and Stacey stopped worrying about their guests and let herself be happy.

THE END

Excerpt from UNBREAK ME

Maggie

“You’re not going to flake out, are you?”

I blink before realizing what my sister means. It’s time. Time for me to face this. Time for me to pretend
everything is just fine.

Time for me to walk down the aisle.

The words swim in my head.
Walk. Down. Aisle
. As if it’s no big deal. As if I’m okay with this.

Lizzy gives me a shove toward the doors.

I can hear it now. The organ. Processional music. The hum of the crowd’s whispers.

“Put a smile on your face and
march
,” Krystal hisses.

I show her my middle finger before pushing through the doors.

“It’s going to be okay,” I hear Lizzy say. “She’s going to do it.”

My sisters’ murmurs fade as I focus on my task.

My stomach pitches and my hands shake behind my bouquet, but I plaster on a smile and time my steps to the organ’s heavy chords.

That’s when I see him.

William Bailey stands at the front of the church, hands clasped in front of him. His eyes are hot and desperate and all over me. Can the guests see it too? The longing that rolls off him in waves as I approach?

Is he thinking the same thing I am? That this is supposed to be us? That this is supposed to be
our
wedding?

Or is he thinking I was the biggest mistake of his life?

I can’t go there. Not here. Not now. I pretend not to notice the questions in his eyes, pretend not to notice the hum of gossip swelling around me.

But underneath the taffeta and flowers, underneath the hoopskirt and pretense, I’m overwhelmed with the thought that
this
is what my life has come to. Just a bridesmaid. Just a bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding.

Just a bridesmaid in my sister’s wedding to my ex-fiancé.

A vocalist joins the organ and the hum of whispers quiets—a swarm of killer bees distracted from their target as they remember the reason for their presence.

I reach the end of the aisle, ankles and dignity still intact, and breathe a sigh of relief as the congregation turns their attention to the next bridesmaid.

My sisters march one by one, coordinating with the hydrangea-blue décor like giant chameleons.

The flower girl appears at the end of the aisle, and the crowd stands.

Something in my chest tugs long and hard at the sight of my youngest sister. Even at ten years old, she’s a delicate little thing with a tiny voice and a big brain. Too young to be a bridesmaid but too old to be a flower girl, she looks like a child bride half-drowned in white tulle.

Finally, Krystal enters. Thick brown curls piled high on her head and a smile curving her lips, she embodies every little girl’s wedding-day dream.

Cameras flash. Women sigh. Tissues abound.

My eyes slide to Will again, and I’m not surprised to see he’s watching me. For the hundredth time since I returned home last month, I find myself remembering the comfort of his arms. Why couldn’t I have stayed there?

As his bride reaches center aisle, Will takes a step toward her.

He’s going through with this. He’s really going to marry her.

The same moment he takes her hand, the air conditioning kicks on.

First there are murmurs, whispers that carry back through the congregation and have me and my sisters exchanging confused glances.

Will shuffles back, scrambling to cover his mouth.

My mom’s eyes roll back in her head, and she falls to the floor.

A breath later, I smell it. The scent guarantees Krystal’s wedding will be as unforgettable as she dreamed.

No one would forget the wedding that smelled of rotting carcass.

A gag settles at the back of my throat as the smell grows.

My sisters hide their noses in their bouquets.

Seconds later, the bride gasps. Her face crumbles and she
howls
.

The sounds of retching echo through the church as the guests run toward the exits, pushing and shoving their way to fresh air.

The priest looks lost, and I nail him with my gaze.
Do something, damn it!
And he does.

He gags right into his microphone.

Chaos breaks loose. More gagging. Scrambling. Pushing.

No one cares about the wedding anymore. No one cares about vows or five-thousand-dollar dresses—not in the middle of stench warfare.

My little sister’s face is white with panic. Her jaw slack as the chaos grows.

I offer my hand. “Come on.”

She stares at me, then opens her mouth and throws up all over her dress, her face crumbling in horror.

Poor thing.

Grabbing her hand, I urge her toward the exit. “Abby!” When she doesn’t move, I gather her lanky frame into my arms and sweep her out of the church.

We make it out the doors and to the sidewalk where Krystal is crying into Will’s arms. He strokes her hair, helpless, and whispers something in her ear.

When he lifts his head, the evening sunlight frames his messy blond hair and our eyes lock. It feels like we have a lifetime between us. A lifetime since my lies fooled us both. A lifetime since I believed a girl like me could have a happily-ever-after.

***

The reception tent glows with candlelight, and the soft May breeze floats up from the river, jingling the wind chimes. Krystal and Will’s reception is set up on the vast green expanse of my mother’s backyard, just like mine was supposed to be last year.

Just like
ours
was supposed to be.

They’re words I can’t dwell on, but avoiding them leaves my mind hopping from place to place like a panicked rabbit in a den of wolves.

Topiaries line the path down the hill and to the river, and I follow them, needing to see the rushing water and escape the music and laughter and joviality. I can feel Will’s eyes on me as I slip from the tent, but I don’t go to him.

Krystal begged me to come home for the wedding, to be her bridesmaid so everyone would know things were okay between us, so everyone would know I was okay with her marrying my ex. I had my own reasons for doing it, but I can’t talk to Will.

Not yet. Not here.

I can’t stop thinking about what happened at the chapel. My mother and the wedding planner awkwardly organized the guests and directed them to the reception, where dinner was served. Now dancing is in full swing. But what about the ceremony? Does this mean Krystal and Will aren’t married? They never said vows. Did they find some dark corner to sign the papers?

Of course, I can’t ask. Everyone will think it’s because I want Will for myself. They’ll think I’m asking because I’m not over him.

I’m halfway down the path when I spot a man a few yards beyond my mother’s dock. His black dress pants and a dress shirt draw my attention to the wide expanse of his shoulders and the narrow taper of his hips. I don’t know him, but I recognize a kindred spirit. He looks hurt and far away, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze locked on the water. A broken heart left behind when Krystal put Will’s ring on her finger?