Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Conway, Six Months Later
T he smell of saltwater fills the air as the breeze kicks up, barely taking the edge off the scorching heat beating down on us, and I’m rethinking the patio seating we agreed to. Gaze fixed up ahead, the kids are playing a game of cornhole together, Sutton and Beau dominating against Willow and Blakely, which— obviously —is the end of the world to preteen girls. Between the two of them, they’ve either threatened to stop playing with the boys or accused them of cheating at least half a dozen times in the span of the two games they’ve played together.
Sutton sinks yet another bean bag in the hole, but my attention is pulled from the bickering that’s undoubtedly about to ensue as our server drops off our next round of beers. I take a drink, swallowing down the crisp, chilled IPA.
“Can I get y’all anything else while I’m here?” the server asks, pushing up the broken glasses held together by masking tape with his index finger. He can’t be older than twenty. I’m about to tell him we’re all good, when I’m cut off.
“Can we get a tray of those nachos you brought to that table over there?”
Once the server walks off, Graham blows out a breath, three sets of eyes turning toward him as he says, “Dude, I mean this is the nicest way possible, but how in the fuck are you still hungry?”
“Fuck off,” Fletcher scoffs. “The kids went to town on my mozz sticks. I barely had any.”
Everett and I exchange an amused look, and I do my best to bite back the laugh dying to come out, but lose it when Everett says, “Can you believe that, Conway? Those damn kids ate all his mozz sticks .”
“Who the hell calls them that anyway?” Graham blurts out, the same scowl he’s been wearing all day directed at his stepbrother. “They’re fucking mozzarella sticks.”
“Goddamn, you’re bitchier than usual today. Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” Fletcher tosses back, to which Graham responds by flipping him the bird while downing more of his beer.
I throw my head back, barking out a laugh. As much as I hate to agree with that annoying little shit, Fletcher’s right. Graham’s been in a foul mood all day, but he won’t say why. I met Grace’s stepbrother several months back when he moved in with Georgia, after his father cut him off and sent him to live here for an unknown length of time. The kid’s in his mid-twenties, but receiving punishment from his dad like he’s fifteen. It doesn’t make sense to me.
Normally, in small doses, I can deal with being around him just fine, but the four of us guys have been together all day with the kids, and I’ve had more than enough Fletcher for one day. Not only is he an entitled rich brat, he’s also just annoying, like a loud fucking frat guy whose favorite activities are to shotgun beer and flirt with chicks. And yes, he calls them chicks , too. Hand to God, I don’t know how Georgia hasn’t killed him in his sleep yet.
My phone buzzes on the table beside my glass, and I smile as I read the name pop up across the screen.
Grace: Can’t wait to see you, Daddy. *winking emoji*
Scratching a hand across my jaw, I breathe out a small chuckle.
Me: Me either, baby girl. Having fun?
The text bubble pops up immediately, and a moment later, her response comes through.
Grace: The BEST time!! *confetti emoji*
Me: And how many bottles of wine have you girls gone through?
Grace: *shrug emoji* I don’t know what you’re talking about, officer.
I chuckle as I thumb out a response.
Me: Mmhmmm, sure you don’t. Be safe, please, baby girl. And have fun.
Georgia had some huge event at the bookstore today, so Grace, Gemma, and Charley have been over there with her, first helping her set up this morning, and then they stayed for support once it started. What type of event it is, is beyond me. All I know is it clearly has something to do with books, basically all the women from town are going to be there, and there’s copious amounts of wine and dozens of cupcakes that Grace meticulously frosted and decorated until two in the morning last night.
The timing of it all worked out perfectly for us guys, since there was a huge college football game this morning. We watched it over at Everett and Gemma’s place while the older kids played outside, and the babies hung out with us inside. Everett’s daughter, Rosie, played in her jumper or sat on her dad’s knee the whole time, and Ellie, Graham’s four-month-old, did nothing but eat, sleep, and shit. I always forget how low maintenance they are at that age.
After the game, we took the kids to the new aquarium that opened in the next town over. Everett’s really into sea turtles, and this place has a huge exhibit dedicated to them. I’m pretty sure he had as much, if not more, fun than the kids did. Once we got back into town, the kids were hungry and none of us felt like cooking after spending the entire afternoon with six kids at a packed aquarium, which is how we found ourself here at Taylor’s Grill .
“Dad, I got one!” Willow yells from across the patio, the smile on her face wide. “Did you see?”
“You bet your butt, I saw it. Good job, sweetie.”
“We’re gonna kick these boys’ butts!” Blakely adds with her hand on her hip and enough sass to knock a grown man off his feet. She’s a spitfire like her mom, and I love it.
“That’s the spirit.” I laugh, hearing the guys join in.
“So, Graham,” Everett says, bringing my attention back to the table. “How’re you adjusting to dad life?”
“Honestly, pretty great.” He shrugs, gesturing to where Ellie’s out cold on his chest in the baby carrier. “You guys have seen her today. This is her most of the time, and when she’s awake, unless she has gas or you know, shits her pants out the side of her pants, she’s pretty happy.”
“Willow was like that,” I offer, taking a drink from my beer. “She was a piece of cake, unlike my first, who spent the entire first year of his life screaming his head off.”
Graham winces. “Oof, that’s rough, man. I can’t imagine.”
“Can relate, Conway,” Everett muses, standing Rosie up in his lap and smiling at her as she vigorously gnaws on her tiny fist, drool dripping down her chin and soaking the bib around her neck.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rosie scream her head off,” Fletcher says, a furrow to his brow as he pops a loaded tortilla chip in his mouth.
Nodding, Everett says, “Yeah, she’s content for the most part now, but the first month or so was rough. Between the horrible colic and the eczema that wouldn’t get better no matter what we tried, Rosie was miserable. She was also hell bent on nursing exclusively. Every time I’d try to feed her with a bottle so Gemma could have a break, she would refuse. We thought she’d never take to it.”
“Damn.” Fletcher huffs out a laugh. “The idea of having kids is becoming less appealing by the day.”
Graham scoffs. “Bringing tiny Fletcher’s into this world should be the furthest thing from your mind when you get fired from your job by your own dad and are living in your stepsister’s guest room.”
Holding up a hand, I cut off whatever smart-ass shit is about to come out of Fletcher’s mouth as I focus my gaze on Graham. “Hey, man, wanna talk about what’s got you so on edge?”
Out of all Grace’s siblings, I know Graham the least. He doesn’t hang out with his sisters the way they all do, and until he and his wife had Ellie, he didn’t show much interest in getting to know me or Everett. Despite not knowing him well, I do like the guy, but I get the feeling he’s got some shit going on in his life that he doesn’t talk about with his family. I don’t even know if he has any friends outside of us either.
He shakes his head, blowing out a breath. “Not really. Just shit with Megan, per usual.” Huffing out a laugh, he adds, “We’re really killing this married gig.”
Before I can respond, my phone lights up with an incoming call. Grabbing it and swiping my thumb across the screen, I bring it up to my ear as Everett says something to Graham I don’t catch. “Baby girl…” I drawl, mouth curved up into a smirk as Grace giggles.
“Conway, you guys have to come to the beach!” she shouts into the phone, and I chuckle when I hear the other girls agreeing in the background.
“All done with the book thing?” I ask her, my gaze sliding over to the kids again when I hear Willow yelling at Beau about something. Snapping my fingers to get her attention, I shake my head and move the phone away from my mouth as I bite out, “Knock it off, both of you.”
“Yeah, it’s over. It was so much fun!” Grace gushes, and I can hear the smile through the phone. “A couple of the ladies invited us to a cookout they’re having at the beach, and obviously, we couldn’t refuse.”
“Obviously,” I agree teasingly.
“Exactly!” She giggles. “So, after me, Gem, and Charley helped Georgia clean up, we walked down here. There’s tons of food and beer, and there’s music and games. Oh! And there’s tons of kids. Super kid friendly. Bring the kids! Please come!”
Chuckling, I look at the guys. “The women are at the beach for some cookout. Wanna go?”
Everett and Fletcher agree right away, but Graham’s face twists up as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m not really in the mood,” he murmurs. “But you guys can go.”
My eyebrow lifts. “You sure?”
“Is that my brother?” Grace cuts in.
“Yeah, Graham’s not feeling it,” I tell her.
Groaning, she says, “Put me on speaker, please.”
Huffing out a laugh, I do just that. “Okay, go ahead.”
“You’re coming, dammit. It’s going to be a lot of fun, you’ll see.” Graham looks less than amused. “Come on, there’s even cheddar brats!”
My brow furrows as I ask, “Are cheddar brats supposed to be a selling point?”
“Oh, my brother looooves those things,” Grace announces. “He’s obsessed.”
Everett and Fletcher laugh in unison as Graham rolls his eyes. “I’m not obsessed, asshole. I like them a very normal amount.”
He barely finishes his sentence before Grace says, “Please come, Graham. You know how long it’s been since you’ve hung out with me? It’ll be fun, I promise.”
There’s a pregnant pause, and right when I’m convinced he’s going to tell her no, Graham heaves a sigh and, very begrudgingly, agrees. Hanging up with Grace, she sends me her location; she’s about a mile down from where we’re at, but it doesn’t take long to corral the kids once they learn we’re going to the beach. As soon as we get there and our feet hit the sand, the older kids book it toward where everyone’s at. As we approach, I realize almost everyone here is a familiar face. It’s mostly women, but a few of their husbands are here too, along with a bunch of kids running around.
Willow and Blakely run up to a couple of girls who’re building an elaborate sandcastle and join them as Beau and Sutton hop into a game of tag with a group of kids I recognize from their grade. It’s always amazing how easily it can be to make friends when you’re that age. Fletcher wanders off in search of the alcohol while Everett, Graham, and I join the other guys.
Hand stuffed in my pocket, my gaze takes in the ladies standing about fifteen feet in front of us, and it doesn’t take long to find the one I’m looking for. Right in the center of it all, with a high, bouncy ponytail and her bare feet pressed into the sand, is Grace. The short pink sundress she’s wearing makes my blood heat as I drink in the sight of her before she spots me. Her head is thrown back as she laughs at whatever the woman in front of her is saying, and it’s entrancing. All eyes are on her while she dives into a story I can’t hear from where I’m standing, animatedly using her hands and stopping to laugh every so often. The rosy color to her cheeks very well may be from the sun, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s more from the seltzer in her hand that’s following whatever she drank at the bookstore.
It’s been six months since New York—since things have become more official —but I’m no less captivated by her than I was then, and I’m certain that’ll never change. I could watch her talk and laugh with people for hours at a time and never get bored. It’s not until Grace turns her head, meeting my gaze through the crowd like she could feel the weight of my stare, that I realize I’m smiling like a fool. A grin that squints her eyes spreads across her face as she runs over and throws her arms around my shoulders as mine instinctively wrap around her waist.
“You came!” she squeals, pressing her lips to my neck, right below my ear. The gentle touch and her hot breath against my skin sends a shiver down my spine.
“Of course I came,” I murmur before kissing her forehead.
“I missed you today,” Grace says softly, peering up at me, with her chin on my chest and a dopey smile on her face.
“Missed you, baby girl.”
Biting down on her bottom lip, Grace holds my gaze, slightly bloodshot eyes soft as they pour into mine. My heart beats wildly as I wonder what’s going through her mind. As if she can read my mind, a sweet smile tugs on her lips before she softly says, “It’s actually unreal how much I love you.”
My chest rumbles with a deep laugh as I tip my head down, brushing my lips against hers. “Yeah, well, feeling’s mutual.”
It doesn’t take long for her sisters and Charley to gravitate toward us, and after I grab Everett and I a couple of beers from the cooler, we hang out with everyone for a while, watching the kids run around and play. Handing her niece and a fresh bottle to me, Grace drags her brother away, demanding he crack a smile and have some fun. Upbeat pop music fills the air, and after a round of shots—plus, a second for good measure—and a whole lot of convincing from not only Grace, but Georgia and Charley too, Graham finally gives in to their demands to dance with them.
For somebody who grew up an only child, I wasn’t sure how I’d like being brought into Grace’s big, close-knit family. Sure, I’ve known them for years, like them all plenty, and even consider a few of them my friends, but knowing them and being a part of their family are two very different things. The idea of holidays and get-togethers felt like a lot to handle. Yet as I stand beside Everett, Gemma, and a conked-out Rosie, with a now-sleeping baby cradled in my arms, and we watch the four of them—which quickly turns into five when Fletcher joins them—dance and laugh together like there’s not a care in the world or a single other place they’d rather be, I’m filled with an immense sense of gratitude.
After a couple of songs, Graham taps out and joins us on the sidelines. A moment later, a collective wave of squeals and shrieks fill the air when All Too Well , a Taylor Swift song I’m well-versed in thanks to Grace, Willow, and Blakely, starts playing. I’ve never seen a group of women light up quite like they do when Taylor Swift comes on. Carefully passing Rosie to Everett, Gemma excitedly runs over to the group before I watch a handful of little girls and boys join them too. The song is drowned out by the sound of well over a dozen people singing along, and admittedly, it’s kind of amazing to witness.
One arm slung over Charley’s shoulders and the other over Georgia’s, Grace sways from side to side, their eyes bright and faces lit up with glee, as they belt out the heartfelt lyrics, never missing a beat. A wave of emotion washes over me as I watch the woman I love radiate sunshine, looking as beautiful as she ever has while surrounded by the people who mean the most to her. I wonder if she knows how truly loved she is. How deeply her love has touched all of us, and how every single one of us are better people because we are loved by her.
As I stand here taking it all in, with tears stinging the back of my eyes, it hits me how blessed I am, how bleak my life was before knowing what her love felt like was. And how much better it is with her light and love in it. And when Grace meets my gaze through the crowd, her sisters and our kids surrounding her, and waves me over, my heart skips a beat. A grin splits my face as I join her in the center of the crowd, her eyes only on mine as I wrap an arm around her waist, letting the music move my body with hers, not giving a damn how silly I may look. Her eyes crinkle, and the sweet, feminine sound of her giggle wraps around my heart, squeezing it tight as I make a dramatic show of dipping her, and suddenly, I’m reminded of something I heard once, something I never thought twice about until this very moment.
It’s not lavish homes or fancy cars or expensive trips that make a person rich; it’s love, in its purest and deepest form.
It’s this , right here, with Grace and our families.
And that makes me the richest man in the world.
The End.
Turn the page for a sneak peek at Beautiful Desire.