Chapter Sixteen
JENSEN
THEN—TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO
FEbrUARY
“Alright. I think that’s it. I think that’s everyone.”
My mom’s voice pulls me from my list. I look up and reach across the large dining room table as she passes me her stack of papers—as in, multiple.
I flip through the endless names. “Mom. This is way too many fucking people.”
She rolls her eyes.
I skim the pages, stopping when I land on the Bennetts. “The Bennetts? Seriously? They hate me. Jack spent my entire childhood making my life hell, and now we’re sending him a free dinner invitation?”
“Oh, stop. He doesn’t hate you.”
I keep flipping, irritation rising with every name. “Who the hell are half these people anyway? There’s no way you know all of them.”
Beside me, I catch Alley’s shocked expression as she scans the list in horror.
“These are our friends, Jensen. Your father’s and mine.”
I set the list down, shaking my head. “No. You need to cut at least a hundred names, Mom. We don’t want a wedding this big.”
Honestly? I don’t care who my mom invites, but I know Alley would love to keep it intimate. She’s already pushing past her comfort zone—one hundred guests max, fifty if she had it her way. But between my list, hers, and now my mom’s? This thing isn’t just big. It’s a goddamn production.
“What do you mean you don’t want a big wedding? It’s already big. Another hundred won’t make a difference at this point,” she argues.
Alley meets my gaze, and I see the resignation there. “She has a point,” she says, forcing a small smile. “What’s another hundred when there are already hundreds?”
God bless her for trying to be okay with this. But I’m not. I take a deep breath, then push back from the table, her list in hand. “I’m hungry. I need to eat before I lose my mind.”
I give my mom a look that says, You better follow me.
My mom hesitates. “Right… I think I’ll join you. Alley, do you want anything to eat?” she asks, standing.
Alley’s eyes flick up. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”
She goes back to figuring out the ceremony while I head to the kitchen, my mom trailing behind me.
As soon as we’re out of earshot, I turn to my mom, keeping my voice low but firm. “What are you doing? You can’t just take over like this.”
She fires back in the same hushed tone. “I’m not taking over! You asked me to make a list of people we wanted to invite to the wedding. That’s what I did!”
“Mom, this list is ridiculous. No one has this many friends. No one cares about this many people. And I guarantee half of them don’t give two shits about you, let alone me and Alley.”
I flip through the pages, frustration mounting. “Who the hell are Roger and Janice Baker?”
“Oh, that’s a couple we met at wine club a few years ago. They’re great. You’d really like them.”
“Would, as in, I’ve never even met them?” I shake my head. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a no.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Why is this such a big deal? We’re paying for the wedding. Can’t we have a say? We’re excited! We want to celebrate you both, introduce you to people who care about us.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” I exhale sharply, gripping the papers tighter.
“This isn’t about us. It’s about status.
The never-ending New York game of who had the bigger, better wedding.
Who can pack a room with the most people that don’t actually give a shit.
No. You guys get one hundred and fifty guests. That’s it. Pick your favorites.”
“What? That’s impossible! There are over four hundred people on this list.”
“Looks like you’ve got some work to do.” I hold the stack of papers out to her.
“This isn’t what we want, Mom. Alley hates attention.
Her entire guest list barely fills one page.
” I sigh, lowering my voice. “Look, I love you, but this day isn’t about you.
It’s not even about me, not really. The ceremony?
Yeah, that’s ours. But the wedding, the reception?
That’s for Alley.” I hold her gaze, softening my tone, letting her hear how much this matters.
“Please. Just make it perfect for her. She deserves that”.
My mom’s brows knit together as she begrudgingly takes back the list, blowing out a slow exhale. “Fine. I’ll cut the guest list. And you’re right… It’s not about me. I want this day to be perfect for you both.”
She pauses, giving me a long look before shaking her head with a small, wry smile. “You know, I guess I should be proud right now.”
I frown. “Proud? Of what?”
She lets out a soft laugh, her expression shifting to something more serious. “Because you’re a good man. I’m proud of you, son.”
I clear my throat. “Thanks, Mom.” I pull her into a hug. She’s the greatest. She’s always had my back, and there isn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for me. And now she has Alley’s back, too. That means more than she probably even realizes.
We walk back to the dining room, and I settle back down next to Alley.
“Where are the snacks?” she asks knowingly.
“Um…”
She laughs. “Ah, busted! Come on, I know you two went in there to talk about me.”
Alley looks at my mom. “Christy, I promise it’s not a big deal.
Does having that many people watching me walk down the aisle make me anxious?
Sure. But honestly, I’m going to feel that way regardless of the number of people there.
So truly, whether it’s one hundred or five hundred, it’s all nerve-racking to me.
” She offers a small smile. “I just appreciate you both helping plan, paying for the wedding, and being there for us. If a large wedding makes you happy, I get it. Invite the people you want to invite.”
My mother grins, glancing between us fondly. “You two are so lucky to have found each other, you know that?” Her gaze lands on Alley. “How about a compromise? The wedding is bigger than you both want, but I’ll cut the guest list.”
Alley’s smile stretches wide. “That sounds perfect.” She reaches for me under the table, grazing my thigh, giving it a squeeze. My hand instinctively falls over hers.
“Alright. If you two don’t need me for anything else today, I’m going to go ponder my guest list and decide who’s getting the cut.” Mom winks, grabs her dictionary of names, and scurries off.
Alley leans in, brushing her lips against mine. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Then she grins. “While you two were off playing secret agents with the guest list, I think I figured out the wedding line.”
“Oh, you did, huh?” I kiss her and immediately go in for seconds. “God, I love your lips.” My fingers weave between hers.
She smiles against my mouth, parting her lips to let me in. We kiss for several seconds before she finally pulls back, sighing.
“We need to stay on task.” She looks down at her paper.
I groan. “Come on, baby.” I lean in, whispering in her ear. “Let’s go fuck in one of the back bedrooms.”
She laughs. “Oh my gosh, you’re ridiculous. Not here.”
“Why not here?”
“Because… your mom’s home. That’s weird.”
“Why is that weird? It’s not like we haven’t had sex here before.” I smirk. “Remember Christmas Eve? And morning?”
She shakes her head like she thinks I’m joking.
I’m not. Obviously.
“Come on, I never had my snack. And do you know what I’m craving?”
Her lips curve. “Ooh, let me guess… starts with P, ends in Y?”
I nod. “Yep. And I’m really, really hungry.”
She giggles. “Okay, horndog. I’ll make you a deal. Give me ten more minutes of your undivided attention, and I’ll sit on your face in any bedroom you want.”
“Done. Done. And fucking done.” I scoot in closer. “So, what are we looking at here?”
She laughs softly, her eyes locking onto mine with adoration. “I love you.” She presses a quick peck to my cheek before turning back to her paper.
“Alright. Back to the ceremony. Jeff and Amber go first, then Megan and Kevin. Matt and Scarlett—which, by the way, she’s going to love. Then Zach and Stella, since Michael will be walking with me. Four and four. It lines up perfectly. And the kids will go last, right before Michael and me.”
She takes a deep breath.
I sense it—that flicker of doubt. I know what it is. And I don’t want to push, don’t want to make her sad. But I have to try.
I place a hand on her back, rubbing gently. “You’re sure you don’t want to invite your dad?” I ask, keeping my tone light, as if I haven’t already asked her ten times.
She shrugs.
A shrug… What?
She’s never shown even an ounce of uncertainty in all the times we’ve had this conversation.
There’s a beat of silence before she answers. “Nah. He wouldn’t come anyway.” She goes somber, and it tears at my heartstrings—that look.
Here I am with this massive, loving, overbearing family—so many people my mom can’t even narrow it down. And then there’s Alley. Her list barely filling a single page.
Front only.
I pick up her guest list, scanning over the names. Michael and Stella. Leo and his girlfriend, Vivian. A few childhood friends. Zach and Joey. Scarlett. Cindy. A few coworkers. An aunt and uncle.
That’s it.
No friends of parents. No dad. No other family members.
It breaks me.
“Hey,” I say, my voice low, soft. “Thanks for compromising with my mom. I know having a big wedding freaks you out… especially when you won’t know half the people there.”
“It’s not a big deal, babe. She’s excited for us. And she is paying for it. It’s the least we can do.” She scribbles something in her notebook. “Besides, I’ll have you to hold my sweaty hands and catch me if I pass out.” She grins at me. “All that matters is that we’re getting married.”
Damn. I don’t know what I did to deserve her.
If there’s a God, I’m pretty sure he messed up because somehow, I’m getting the far better end of this deal. And Alley? She deserves a hell of a lot more than what she’s stuck with, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets it.
A soft chuckle slips out. “Come here.”
I cup the back of her neck, closing the space between us. Our mouths meet, and I drink her in, savoring the warmth.
Her lips are soft, supple. Her tongue strokes against mine, and I deepen the kiss, pulling her closer before finally easing back.
“Thank you,” I murmur, our breaths mingling. “And I’m still hungry.” A sly smirk tugs at my lips.
“You craving a side of Alley?” she teases.
“No. I want the whole damn entrée.”
I push back from the table, pulling her up with me. In one swift motion, I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as she gasps, then laughs, holding onto me tighter.
Her lips find mine again as I carry her down the hall to the back bedroom—the one that’s technically ours.
Pushing the door open, I walk her to the bed and collapse onto it, tugging her shirt over her head. She reaches for mine, pulling it off with my help. Her hands move to her pants, sliding them down.
She pauses. “Wait… lock the door.”
I groan but obey, dragging myself away just long enough to turn the lock. By the time I face her again, she’s sliding her underwear down her legs, watching me with that look. I guess we’re skipping foreplay. Not that I ever need it. I’m already hard as hell for her.
My gaze drops between her thighs, and damn—like my cock wasn’t already desperate for her. A slow grin spreads across my face, excitement building. “Scoot to the edge of the bed for me, baby.”
She shifts closer, anticipation clear in her eyes. I drop to my knees, sliding my hands up her thighs, squeezing lightly before settling between them.
“Fuck, Lola’s pretty.” I shoot her a mischievous grin, hooking her legs over my shoulders.
She laughs. “Oh my God, that’s such a weird compliment.”
I chuckle against her skin, trailing my tongue up the inside of her thigh as my thumb circles her clit.
She moans softly, and fuck, the sound alone is such a turn-on—never gets old. I press a kiss against her inner thigh, then another, dragging it out, savoring her. Jesus. She’s so soft and smooth. Nothing better than feeling bare skin against my tongue.
Her fingers thread into my hair, tugging gently, and I flick my tongue over her clit—just once—before pulling back.
Her legs tense around my shoulders. “Babe,” she whines. “Don’t tease.”
I grin against her skin, then seal my lips around her clit, sucking just hard enough to make her hips jolt. Her fingers tighten in my hair, and I groan against her, the sound vibrating between her thighs.
God. She’s so wet. This is the best thing ever. It’s better than football. It’s better than vacations. And it’s a hell of a lot better than wedding planning.
Her hips roll against my mouth, chasing the friction, chasing more.
I groan, gripping her thighs tighter. I can feel how close she is, and I fucking love it.
I love this. I love her. I work her faster, harder, determined to send her over the edge—and when she finally does, my name leaves her lips in a breathless, desperate moan that shoots straight through me.
Damn.
I love this woman.