Oblivion (Alphaholes #4)

26. Evan

26

EVAN

M y balls actually hurt by the time I’ve finished coming. I’ve never had such an intense orgasm, but hearing her tell me she wants me to breed her and put my baby in her flipped a switch inside of me into overdrive, and I lost all control.

Her skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, there are bite marks all over her tits that I don’t remember giving her, and her chest is heaving while she gasps for breath. Her thighs, my pelvis, and the sheets beneath us are wet from her arousal, but the need to keep as much of my cum inside of her feels like a compulsion.

Right now, my dick is acting as a plug, holding my release in her, but the moment I pull out, gravity will do its thing, and I’ll drip out of her, no matter how much I try to push me back into her with my fingers.

After the first time I finger fucked my cum back into her as deep as I could get it, I did a little googling and ordered something to help keep me inside of her. Grabbing her hips, I keep her pressed to me as I reach over to the nightstand and pull out the pussy plug I bought her. The plug will stop my cum from leaking out and will keep her feeling full until I’m hard enough to get my dick back into her again.

When I glance at her, she’s staring at the toy in my hand, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What is that?” she asks.

“It’s a toy I brought to keep my cum inside of you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I like thinking about you plugged, so my gift can’t escape,” I tell her, dropping my voice until I’m practically purring. Sammy reacts so beautifully when I talk dirty to her. This afternoon when I told her I’d punish fuck her and use her like nothing more than three holes to be filled to help her manage her guilt, she went off like a rocket, coming so hard I thought she might actually black out.

Her eyes drop to the pink toy in my hand. It’s fairly small and shaped similarly to a butt plug only this one has a sort of scooped shape at the top and is soft and pliable. I basically bought everything on the market to help her conceive, including a cup thing that you push in after she’ll full that’s meant to push all of my cum as close to her cervix as possible and keep it there while my baby takes root in her womb.

I plan to use that on her soon, but I want to get her used to the idea of me plugging her with a toy before I try anything that looks like it’s more obviously made to help her conceive. We might be engaged now and getting married in less than a month, but I haven’t told her that I had her IUD removed, and I don’t intend to. She’ll figure it out once she’s bred with my kid, and it’s too late for her to try to run from me.

“Can I see?” she asks, holding out her hand for me to pass her the toy.

After debating for a moment, I hand it to her. “If you throw that away or refuse to give it back, you should know that they come in more than one size, and that’s the smallest. If that’s not available to use, I’ll pick a bigger one.”

Her eyes widen at my threat. I don’t know if she’d planned to try to stop me using it on her, but at her reaction, I know she won’t do anything now. Turning the toy over in her hands, she squeezes it, feeling how malleable it is.

“I’m already really sore,” she admits. “I need to be able to walk in the morning.” Her voice is soft and sexy.

“This won’t hurt. It’ll just make you feel full. Try it. I won’t make you wear it all night.”

Her nod is tentative, but she hands me back the toy when I hold my hand out for it.

Positioning the plug above her entrance, I slip my dick out, then immediately replace it with the plug, pushing it deep until her pussy lips are spread wide around the base. The sight of her cum filled pussy plugged makes my soft dick jump to attention, and I know that this won’t be the last time I use this toy on her.

“How does it feel?” I ask, still staring at her plug filled cunt.

“Full, but okay, I guess,” she answers shyly.

Rolling to my side, I pull her into me, guiding her to snuggle with her head on my chest.

“My ring is beautiful,” she says softly.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s insured, but it stays on your finger, do you understand?”

“I’m not going to lose it.” She chuckles.

“I’m not worried about you losing it. But I want it on your finger for the rest of your life, so unless it’s a medical emergency, it doesn’t come off, okay?”

“Okay, psycho,” she teases.

“Your psycho.”

“My psycho,” she says on a soft sigh.

We doze for a little, enjoying the quiet together before she speaks. “We have to get back to school,” she says on a yawn.

“We’re staying here tonight. You don’t have class until after lunch tomorrow, so we’ll go back home in the morning.”

“Okay,” she says sleepily. “Am I going to wake up to you fucking me?”

“I can’t help it that you tease me with that sexy little cunt in your sleep. It’s practically begging to get filled and fucked.”

Her laugh is high and happy sounding. “How exactly am I begging you when I’m asleep?”

“I’ll video you in the morning, then you can see how your cunt teases me,” I quip. “Let me up. I’ll go and grab us a drink. Then we can get some sleep before your needy cunt starts making demands again.”

The sound of her happy amusement fills my ears as I stride naked from our bedroom and head downstairs. Quickly circling the house, I lock the doors, sad that our house manager has already blown out all of the candles by the pool. Returning to the kitchen, I open the refrigerator and pull out the bottle of juice that I laced with a sedative earlier today.

Shaking the small bottle of her favorite juice, I grab one for myself and head back upstairs.

“Here,” I say, pretending to crack the lid on her bottle before I hand it to her and watch her drink half of it before I open my own and start to drink.

“God, I love this juice,” she says, sighing happily then lifting the bottle to her lips and drinking deeply until it’s empty. “I wish they made bottles that were twice the size because I’m always so disappointed when they’re gone.” Pouting, she glances at my bottle.

“The refrigerator is stocked full of them. I know how much you like them,” I say, taking a small sip of my own bottle before handing it to her. Climbing back into bed, I pull her into my arms, turn off the light, and wait for the sedative to take effect.

Thirty minutes later, her body is fully lax, and I carefully lift her head from my chest as I shuffle out from beneath her. Crossing to the closet, I find my bag and bring it back to the bed with me. Placing it down on the floor, I pull out the pre-dosed needle that’s full of a fertility drug that will increase our chances of making a baby. According to Dr. Harris, it also increases the chance of a multiple birth, but I don’t mind. One baby will bind her to me. Twins or even triplets will ensure she’ll never be free again.

Wiping her skin with an antibacterial wipe, I uncap the needle and push it into her arm, plunging the liquid into her body without an ounce of remorse. Pulling the needle free, I recap it, then carefully put it back into the pouch and zip it closed. I have several more needles full of a different drug that I’ll need to give her daily if she gets her period, but I’ll cross that bridge if I can’t knock her up this month.

Stashing the bag back in the closet, I climb back into bed and roll to my side so I can stare at her. I need to take the plug out of her, but I’m not sure how long my cum needs to stay inside of her to give it the best chance of taking root.

Grabbing my cell, I set an alarm for an hour’s time, then curl myself around her back, holding my beautiful, perfectly filthy fiancée in my arms. When my eyes finally drift closed, it’s with a sense of settled peace that I haven’t felt in years.

The sound of my cell buzzing forces me awake, and I groan, the weight of sleep pinning me to the mattress. Blinking, I glance at Sammy beside me, her lips parted in sleep, soft kitten snores filling the silent night air.

Carefully pulling back the comforter, I shuffle down the bed and part her legs, putting myself at face level with her cunt and the plug that’s still inside of her. A part of me wishes I could keep her plugged anytime she’s not full of my dick, but she’s already going to be sore in the morning, and I don’t want to cause her any more pain.

I’ll need to take it easy on her tomorrow. Being inside of her is like fucking nirvana, but if I keep fucking her until she’s raw, she’ll start to try to say no to me, and that’s completely unacceptable.

I could use her ass or mouth, but I don’t want to waste my cum by filling either of her other two holes until she’s pregnant. After that I’ll spend a month worshipping her tight virgin ass and introducing her to the pleasure an elusive anal-only orgasm can give her.

Curling my fingers around the base of the plug, I slowly tug it out of her, then watch to see if there’s any of my cum left waiting to escape. Her cunt is stretched and wet, but nothing immediately starts to drip, so I slip out of bed, quickly wash the plug, then put it into my bag to go home with us in the morning.

Slipping back into bed, I lift her until she’s on top of me, then close my eyes and fight the urge to push my dick into her again.

The morning light is high and bright by the time Sammy’s aroused body starts to grind against my hardness. I wasn’t teasing her when I said her greedy pussy temps me to fuck it even while she’s asleep. Each morning that I’ve pushed into her unconscious body, it’s been because she’s been humping my morning wood until I was incapable of stopping myself from pushing inside of her.

I won’t deny that parting her legs and using her body while she’s sleeping doesn’t excite me, because it really fucking does. Knowing that she’s mine to use and that she can’t argue or fight or deny me because she’s asleep makes me so hard, and I know now that I’ve had a taste of her like that, I’ll always crave it.

If she hated it, I’d stop, but despite her halfhearted denial, she’s always wet and eager and enjoys my defilement of her sleeping body just as much as I do.

My wild one is a seriously kinky little kitten. How she ever thought she could be happy with the wannabe politician is beyond me. He’s so vanilla he’s practically a melted scoop of ice cream. Sammy likes it dirty. She likes how wrong everything I’ve done to her is. She loves having her choices taken away from her, because deep down, she wants to be forced. The idea turns her on, and I’m more than happy to steal every choice but me away from her for the rest of our lives.

When a low needy moan pours from her lips, I smile to myself, then grab my cell and open the video app. Pulling off the covers, I press record just as her naked butt wiggles against my hard dick, leaving a line of slick wetness on me from where her gushing cunt is begging to get fucked.

Not moving, I record as she parts her legs, pushes her hand between them and searches for her clit while she slips up and down my cock, her eyes closed and her body still sleeping.

Once I’ve recorded a three-minute video of the way she’s shamelessly begging me to fuck her, I shuffle back, putting distance between us so she can’t grind against me. The lack of friction wakes her up, and she freezes, pulling her hand from between her thighs when she realizes what she’s doing.

“Good morning, Mrs. Morris.”

Startled, she rolls over to look at me, her eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Err.”

Her confusion makes me smile as she glances down at my hard cock and the pearlescent beads of precum dripping from the head.

“Err, why?” she starts, pausing to look up at me.

“Why aren’t I fucking you when I’m rock hard?” I answer for her.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re sore, and I can wait.”

“But…” Her words trail off, but she motions down to my cock.

“He can wait too.”

I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think it’s disappointment that flashes through her eyes.

“Don’t worry, Wild One. Tonight, I’ll fuck you and fill you up with my cum. I’ll even let you beg me to put my baby in you again,” I tell her with a smirk.

Her cheeks plume with heat, and I fucking love it.

“You’re an asshole,” she chokes.

“Do you want me to show you?” I ask, deliberately not letting her provoke me into fucking her.

“Show me what?”

“I told you I’d record your greedy cunt begging me to fuck it in your sleep.”

Her mouth falls open, but before she can deny it happened or try to walk away, I press play on the video I took and turn the screen to face her.

Considering how deep her blush already was, I’m amazed that she actually gets redder. She’s turned on but embarrassed as I force her to watch herself grinding against my dick and leaving wetness in her wake.

“If you were me, and this is how I woke up every morning, do you think you could resist pushing into your pussy and giving you exactly what you were begging for?”

Closing her eyes, she tries to hide from me and the video that’s started to play from the beginning again.

“Open your eyes. Look at how wet and needy you are. Look at the way your slutty cunt is dripping all over me. Look at the way that, even in your sleep, your fingers were searching for your clit to make yourself come.”

“Delete that.” Her voice is small and weak.

“No. Why would I delete it? I’m going to record a new one every morning, right before I force my thick cock into your hole. Because that’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you’re mad. Because instead of using you like you need me to, I’ve left you wanting.”

“I don’t want you,” she argues, but we both know it’s a lie.

Chuckling, I reach over and cup her cheek. “Liar. Do you need to come? I know I’ve made you start to expect to wake up to an orgasm.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” she hisses.

Grabbing her hips, I roll to my back and lift her over me, positioning her so she’s straddling one of my thighs, her wet cunt pressed against my leg.

“Evan, stop,” she protests, trying to bat my hands away.

“Hush, Sammy. I’ll give you what you need.”

Her fighting stops the moment I push my fingers between her folds and find her clit. I haven’t touched her in hours, but her clit is swollen, the hood pushed back leaving the bundle of nerves exposed and eager to be touched.

“Evan,” she gasps as I rub the pad of my thumb over it.

“Grind on my leg. I want you to ride my thigh while I rub your clit until you come.”

“No,” she gasps, appalled. But the expression on her face isn’t disgust. It’s excitment.

“Don’t fight it, Wild One. Rub that wet cunt against my leg until your cream is soaking me. You don’t get to come unless you do. I’ll keep you on edge all day. I’ll tease you over and over until you’re begging, then I’ll have you ride my leg during dinner, out in the open where everyone can watch. Although maybe you’d like that. Maybe my wild little fiancée would enjoy putting on a show, then getting fucked and bred like a bitch in heat.”

I’m not sure if she realizes she’s doing it, but her hips are rolling, and she’s grinding herself against my thigh mindlessly. She’s so wet, my leg is slick as she rubs her clit against my thumb, her eyes closed tight, her head thrown back.

“Good girl. That’s fucking perfect. Soak me, come all over my thigh. Make yourself scream.”

Seconds later, her body tenses, then shudders with release, a pained moan slipping from her parted lips as she rides out her orgasm.

“Beautiful,” I rasp, grabbing her face and pulling her down for a possessive claiming kiss.

The moment I release her, she slips off my leg and rolls to the mattress beside me, her chest heaving as the last of her orgasm starts to dissolve.

Silence stretches between us, and I know she’s probably embarrassed or upset, but she’ll get over it. Hiding from the things that excite her is stupid. It’s time she embraces her kinks and learns to enjoy them.

“Come on. Let’s take a bath before we have to go back to school,” I say, ignoring her squeak of protest as I roll her into my arms and carry her into the bathroom. Sitting her on the counter, I reach over and turn on the faucet, watching as the water starts to fill the tub.

Returning to her, I force myself between her legs, placing my palms on her thighs as I catch her gaze with mine and force her to look at me.

“I love you,” I tell her.

“I don’t hate you quite as much as I did when I woke up,” she deadpans.

Smiling widely, a laugh bubbles from my throat. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, Wild One. Have you thought about our wedding? Do you want a big church thing with a princess dress and your dad giving you away with everyone you’ve ever met watching from the pews?”

“Do you want that?” she asks coyly.

“I don’t care. I’d marry you today. Allowing you to wait until the first of the month was just me being nice.”

“The first of the month? That’s only two weeks away. You said next month.”

“And the first is next month. After we call and tell our parents the good news, we have a meeting with the wedding planner who set up Hunter and Bunny’s wedding. She’s a pro at this kind of thing, and she’ll help you have the wedding of your dreams.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time. A month wasn’t enough time, plus my parents don’t know you. They won’t be okay with me marrying a stranger,” she argues.

“I already told your parents I planned to ask you to marry me. Your dad gave me his blessing. They won’t be an issue,” I explain matter-of-factly.

Her mouth hangs open as she stares at me. “My dad would not give you his blessing.”

Shrugging, I smirk. “He did, and your mom was there. I’m sure she’ll be over the moon to help you plan a wedding.”

Clearly exasperated, she blinks at me, but I just smile, lifting her into my arms and carrying her into the tub. Sinking down into the water, I position her so she’s sitting between my legs, her back to my chest.

“Evan, even with a wedding planner, two weeks isn’t enough time. I need six months minimum to get a dress.”

“I already spoke to that designer you like, the one who made Starling’s dress, and you have a consultation with her tomorrow evening. She assured me she could have your dream dress ready on time.”

“What if I’d have said no?” she questions, a hint of amusement filling her tone.

I chuckle softly. “Do you really believe that when I got down on one knee, I was asking you to marry me? I was telling you. You being my wife was nonnegotiable.”

I brace for her reaction, but she surprises me by scoffing, then relaxing into me as the water rises around us. Once the tub is full, I reach over to turn off the faucet, then sigh, happy to enjoy the silence with my fiancée.

“Do you like the house?” I ask after a few minutes.

“It’s beautiful. Are they all as finished as this one?”

“Hunter and Bunny’s place still needs to be decorated, but Bastian and Starling’s and Clay and January’s houses are both ready to move into.”

“Do you think they’ll move off campus?” she asks, her voice wary.

“It all depends on the girls. Bastian, Hunter, and I all have to graduate eventually. Clay is a genius, and he can keep doing degrees and master’s to keep himself busy while January finishes her degree, but the rest of us don’t really want to commit to anything unless it’s business school, and even then, we don’t really need it.”

“Oh.” Her voice is practically a whisper, and I hate it.

“We already decided that we’d split our senior class load over two years, so you girls only have your senior year left at school after we graduate.”

“So, Starling, Bunny, January, and I would stay in Collinswood while you lived here?” she asks.

“No,” I laugh. “Once we’re married, and Hunter and Bunny’s house is finished, I think we’ll all move into our homes, then just commute to school.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she says, and I swear I hear relief in her voice.

The water is cooling by the time I’ve washed and conditioned Sammy until her muscles are goo and her eyes are half lidded.

“Can we just go back to bed?” she whines as I lift her out of the tub and wrap her in a huge fluffy towel.

“Not today, but once we finish class, we can come back and spend the entire weekend here. You can have a proper look around and see if there’s anything you want to change.”

“Why would I want to change something in your house?” she asks.

“Because it’s your home too.”

“No, it’s not. It’s yours. You designed it and had it built and decorated. It’s yours.”

“Sammy, you’re going to be my wife in a couple of weeks. Everything I’ve got is yours. If you don’t like this house, I’ll get it knocked down, and you can design a new one. If you don’t like the way it’s decorated, I’ll arrange for you to meet with an interior designer and you can pick out whatever you want. This is your home. It’ll be our home, for the rest of our lives. We’ll live here, bring our kids home to here, raise them here, retire here, and be happy here.”

“Evan,” Sammy says my name, but I speak over her.

“I’m fucking serious, Sammy. I had this place decorated because I didn’t think I’d ever be able to claim you as mine. But if you decide you want a life-size replica of the Barbie Dreamhouse, I’ll get it built for you. I’d give you fucking anything to make you happy. Don’t you know that?”

Her eyes go soft as she pushes up onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around my neck. “You make it very hard to hate you, Evan Morris,” she admits, sweetly.

Smiling, I dip my chin and kiss her, keeping it light despite the need to claim her burning in my chest.

“You had your chance to hate me yesterday, but you agreed to marry me instead.”

“I thought you said you didn’t ask me,” she taunts.

“I didn’t, but you still could have hated me while I told you you were marrying me,” I tell her with a smirk. “It’s not my fault you missed your chance. Today, you only get to love me.”

Sighing exaggeratedly, she purses her lips like she’s going to say something, but I kiss her again, then lift her off her feet and carry her into the closet. Her eyes go wide when she takes in the rails full of clothes I ordered for her.

“What is all this?” she questions, like it’s not obvious.

“Clothes,” I say mockingly as I take boxers from the dresser and pull them on.

“Where did all this stuff come from?”

“I ordered them for you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.” I chuckle.

“Am I never going to pick my own clothes again?” There’s a hint of anger lacing her words, but I ignore it. If she wants to think that buying her clothes is the most offensive thing I’ve done to her in the last twenty-four hours, I’m happy to let her keep believing that.

“I enjoy buying you things.”

“Things that have your initials on them?”

Lifting my chin, I find her eyes and demand her attention as I utter a single word. “Yes.”

“So, you’re going to brand everything I wear with your name for the rest of my life?”

“Yes,” I say honestly.

At the look in her eyes, it’s clear she’s trying to pick a fight, but my monosyllabic answers have taken the wind out of her sails. “What if I decide I want my name all over you?” she demands.

“Tattoo, brand, or just emblazoned across my chest for everyone to see?” I ask.

“Are you serious?” she snaps.

“Deadly. When you decide you want to put your name on me, I’ll be over the fucking moon. I plan to get a tattoo anyway, and we’ll get the brands together, but I’m more than happy to wear a tag that says, Property of Sammy Morris , if that’s what you want.”

“Bullshit,” she protests.

“I’m not ashamed to let people know that you fucking own me.”

Her lips snap shut, and I chuckle, kissing her quickly before I grab the rest of my clothes and head into the bedroom to get dressed. An hour later, we’re in my car and heading back toward school.

“Do you want to ring your parents? Or we can fly out tomorrow afternoon and tell them in person?” I ask.

“We can call them,” she says absentmindedly.

“Okay,” I say, pulling up her parents’ house number and hitting call.

The moment the ringtone sounds through my car stereo’s speakers, Sammy turns horrified eyes in my direction.

“I didn’t mean now,” she whisper yells.

“Hartley residence,” her mom answers with her warm, Southern twang.

Pointing at Sammy, I urge her to speak.

“Hey, Mama, it’s me,” she says, mimicking her mom’s accent. I’m not sure if she realizes she’s doing it, but it’s adorable.

“Samantha, I was expecting a phone call from you yesterday,” her mom scolds.

“Sorry, Mama. I had to get all my classes sorted. I have some…news.”

“Are you okay? That nice young man told us you and Drew had broken up. I called and spoke to Martha about it, but she just said that things hadn’t worked out and that she didn’t know anything else.”

My eyes narrow at the mention of Drew’s name, and Sammy must see my reaction because she quickly changes the subject.

“I don’t really want to talk about him, Mama.”

“You have some explaining to do, young lady. That boy said you’d been living with him and his friends, and not in the house we’ve been paying for.”

Sighing, Sammy shrugs, even though her mom can’t see the action. “A lot happened last year, Mama. The people I was living with at Alistern House…They were…Well, I promise you wouldn’t have approved of them or what they were doing. When my friend Starling asked me to move into the house she lived in, it just made sense. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I’m your mama. Of course, I would worry. Your daddy said the boy who came here is from an important family, but I don’t know, Samantha. I think maybe you should come home. You could go to school here. There are plenty of great colleges close enough that you could live at home with us and just drive in for classes. Then maybe you and Drew?—”

“Mama, Evan and I got engaged,” Sammy blurts.

“I’m sorry?” her mom asks like she’s not sure she heard correctly.

“Last night, Evan asked me to marry him, and I said yes. I’m engaged.”

“To the boy who came to the house?” her mom asks.

“His name is Evan, Mama, and yes. He and I are engaged.”

“Hello, Mrs. Hartley,” I say loudly.

“Oh, my goodness,” her mom gasps.

“Is Daddy there?” Sammy asks quietly.

“Oh. Well. Yes. He’s in his office. Let me get him.”

The phone goes quiet except for the sound of heels walking across the floor. When I turn my head to glance at Sammy, her skin is pale, and she’s gnawing at her bottom lip worriedly.

“Hey,” I say, pulling her attention to me. “It’s fine. They’re shocked, but they’ll be excited. They’ll be happy for us.”

“I don’t think any parents, especially mine, would be happy about their daughter getting engaged to two different men in the space of a week.”

“Samantha?” her dad’s voice comes through the speakers.

“Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. You know me. Still sick of the rabbit food diet the doctors are insisting on. I want a good single malt and a steak.”

“You have to reduce your cholesterol, Daddy.”

“So, you and your mama keep telling me. But you didn’t ring just to talk about what I’m eating, did you? Your mama is practically itching to tell me, but I told her any news you have needs to come from you.”

As she exhales, some of the tension leeches from Sammy’s shoulders, and I reach over and take her hand, placing it on my thigh as I try to split my attention between driving and making sure she’s okay.

“Evan asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“And you know who his family is, and what that’ll mean for you and any children you have together?” her dad asks, his tone measured and calm.

Sammy’s eyes shutter for a minute, but she sounds normal when she speaks. “I’m hoping I’ll be able to bring some normal to the gene pool if we decide to have children.”

My eyes dart to her stomach, and I internally whisper, “ That might be happening sooner than you think .”

The sound of her dad’s laughter vibrates through the car. “There’s nothing normal about you, sweetheart. Is this what you want?”

“Evan is right beside me in the car,” Sammy says, obviously warning her dad.

“Your mama said as much, but I’m happy for him to listen. Is this…is he what you want?”

This time, instead of glancing at her, I pull the car to the side of the road and turn to face her.

Her words might be to reassure her dad, but she’s looking and speaking to me. “Yes. He’s what I want. My life will be different. But I love him.”

Her dad stays silent for a long moment, then eventually speaks. “Then that’s what I want for you. He seems like a nice enough boy, a little highhanded, but he’d need to be to handle you.”

I chuckle, glad that he has no idea exactly how highhanded I’m being with his only daughter.

“Daddy,” Sammy protests.

“Congratulations to you both. You mother would like to meet him and his family properly. Perhaps we could arrange a meal or the like?”

“Actually, I was hoping that you and Mrs. Hartley would be willing to fly out this weekend? We’re going to be having an engagement dinner at our house. It’ll give you a chance to meet my family and see where your daughter and I will be living. We’re planning to get married on the first of the month, and I know Sammy would love her mom to be involved with the wedding planning.”

“The first of the month? What month?” her mom squeaks, clearly listening into the conversation.

“Next month,” I tell her. “Waiting for some socially decreed right time seems arbitrary. We love each other, we’re engaged, so we’re get married.”

“But a dress. A suitable venue. Decent weddings cannot be planning in weeks,” Mrs. Hartley argues.

“I’ve already gifted Sammy a very talented wedding planner who will ensure that the wedding is everything my wild one could dream of. And I’ve made an appointment with a wedding dress designer that Sammy likes for tomorrow night. Would you care to join her for the appointment, Mrs. Hartley?”

“Tomorrow?” she says, clearly surprised.

“Perhaps you’d both like to come, and we could have dinner before the appointment?”

There’s a noted silence, and I wonder if they’ll refuse.

“You might as well just agree. Evan has a way of getting what he wants. Agreeing takes less time,” Sammy interjects with a soft laugh.

“I’ll arrange a flight,” her dad starts.

“That’s fine. My family’s jet is available. I’ll let your PA know the details.”

“See you guys tomorrow,” Sammy says.

“Oh. Well—” her mom starts

“We look forward to seeing you both tomorrow. And congratulations,” her dad confirms, seconds before he ends the call.

When the line goes dead, I smile at Sammy, who looks a little shellshocked. “I think that went well.”

“You just railroaded my parents.”

“I can cancel if you don’t want your mom at your appointment, but I assumed you would. Don’t worry, though. I’ve already told the designer to make sure the dress is what you want, not what your mom thinks is appropriate. Obviously, if you’d like Starling and the girls to be there too, I’m sure they’ll want to. I’d bet Cassidy would enjoy being included, but that’s up to you.”

“I don’t think putting Starling and her pregnant mom in the same room is a good idea.”

Exhaling, I nod in agreement. “True.”

“But she’s basically your stepmom. Do you want me to have her there?” she asks.

“I like Cassidy a lot, and she’s a great stepmom. But Starling is your best friend, and as long as Cassidy is invited to the wedding, I don’t think she’ll be expecting to be included in the planning,” I assure her.

“Will your mom come? To the wedding?” she adds quickly.

Exhaling, I shrug. “I doubt it. Although I guess I should invite her if I can find out where she is.”

“How long has it been since you saw her last?”

Pulling out onto the road again, I try to remember the last time I saw my mom in person. “Eight or nine years, maybe. Honestly, I don’t really remember.”

The rest of the journey back to school is uneventful, and it’s almost lunchtime by the time we get back to the house. As I slow the cart to a stop outside the front door, I turn to Sammy. “Wait there for me,” I order.

Circling the front of the cart, I lean in and scoop her into my arms bridal style, carrying her up the steps and into the house while she giggles, her arms looped around my neck.

“You’re not supposed to carry me over the threshold until we’re actually married.”

“Yeah, well, I’m starting early, Mrs. Morris.”