Chapter 52
52
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A nother one of my brothers is now a married man.
It’s a small, intimate wedding, just as Felix’s bride wanted.We all stand on the edge of the magical waterfall where Rainbow just finished officiating the ceremony. Then we let the bride and groom jovially lead the way as everyone trudges through the forest, back to the family ranch, our winter boots crunching the snow beneath our feet.
Lately, I’ve been a bit of a bitter jerkwad about love and all that stuff. But even I have to admit that it’s hard to be an asshat today. I’m happy for them. I like Daphne. She’s good for Felix. She’ll keep him grounded, and I trust that they’ll give each other the happy ever after they both deserve.
The wedding reception is happening here in the extravagantly decorated front yard of my parents’s house. Mom and the rest of the girls went overboard, transforming the lawn of my childhood home into a winter wonderland.They really did an impressive job.
There’s a large white tent overhead—Mom and Dad’s contribution to the event—as well as space heaters—my contribution—strategically placed all over the yard to keep the guests warm in the late February evening. Flowers and lights are strung up everywhere, twinkling against the darkening sky.
Heavy jackets get taken off and boots get swapped out for fancy shoes. There’s cake and drinks and far too many townsfolk crowding the yard right now. Everyone seems to be having fun.
My brother and his new wife take a brief moment to mingle with their crowd of well-wishers. Then they head to the dance floor, getting swept up in each other as they twirl around, lost in their own world. The DJ is playing some fairly decent music, too. Only a few of the corny, cliché tunes so far.
I sip on a beer, watching Sky boogie on the dance floor with Stella and my mom. He looks so damn cute out there, wiggling and bouncing around to the music. It’s already past his bedtime, so I know he’ll be crashing soon. The little guy is always the funniest when he hits the point of exhaustion.
My eyes find Layla on the other side of the yard, and I take a long drink of my beer. Damn, she looks pretty. And she’s too fucking far away. It’s taking all of my self-control not to go over to her and pull her up against my side.
We’re supposed to be wedding dates tonight. But we’re not doing the best job of keeping up appearances. We’ve been pretty distant all day.
I’m trying to not make it obvious, but that’s difficult while I’m also mentally preparing myself to let her go as soon as this is all over.
She has her own house now. It’s a sweet twist of fate that she is now the legal proprietor of the very home Razor kicked her out of. That’s karma in action right there. The bitch slap from the universe couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person.
And while I’m happy that she has something to call her own, the whole situation feels like a punch to the gut for me. I’d been hoping I could convince her to stay. But now, she’s about to be ripped out of my life.
When I finish my beer, I grab another. I’m finding that the drinks help some. The sting of Layla leaving doesn’t quite sting as much with alcohol running through my blood.
I’m not okay with it. I never will be. But I’m trying. I’m trying to appear like everything is fine.
I bullshit with the guys while working on my next beer. Then, someone announces that it’s time for the bouquet toss. I stand off to the side and watch as Layla’s friends thrust her into the semi-circle of eager single women, pushing and shoving each other in hopes of catching the bride’s flowers today.
Daphne flings the peach bouquet over her shoulder. The thing sails right into Layla’s arms with zero effort on her part. I watch as Layla throws her head back, laughing and holding the flowers high over her head.
To her, this is probably just some big joke, a silly superstition that means nothing. But to me, it means something. I’m wondering if it’s a message from the universe. Maybe?
I can’t help but wish that the damn bouquet tradition was more than just an old wives’ tale.I’d marry Layla right this minute, if she’d let me. The problem is, she doesn’t want me.
I’m a sucker.
My heart aches with want. I want nothing more than to make Layla my own wife.We’d be so damn good together. I can feel it in my bones.
I’m tossing my latest beer bottle into the trash when Layla approaches.“Has anybody asked you to dance tonight, big boy?” she asks, her eyes glittering under the twinkling lights.
I gaze back, mesmerized. “I think the prettiest girl in the room just did.”
She blushes as I take her hand. We stroll over to the dance floor together, and it reminds me of the night of my birthday party. This time, I don’t hesitate to wrap her in my arms and sway to the music with her.
Even though I’ve had her in my arms a dozen times over the past few weeks, this still feels like the first time. My skin buzzes alive in every spot her body touches mine. I get this weird feeling in my gut, and my chest gets tighter.
Did someone turn up those space heaters? It’s the dead of winter out here, but I’m burning from the inside out.
Despite whatever isn’t happening between us, Layla would be crazy to deny that there’s red hot chemistry here.
We’re in the middle of a song when my mother comes up and taps me on the shoulder. She’s got Sky all curled up in her arms and Stella clinging to her leg.
“I’m going to go put him to sleep in Stella’s toddler bed upstairs. The poor little guy’s all tuckered out.”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Brighton,” Layla says, smiling. She places a kiss on the top of her son’s head.
Mom looks between Layla and me, her eyes beaming. “Carry on, lovebirds.” Then she disappears with the kids, grinning to herself.
I return my attention to the beautiful girl in my arms. Another song. Another dance. Another round of drinks.
When Layla doesn’t run off after the first few songs, I start to loosen up. She loosens up, too.
“This dress…” I exhale. “It looks fucking gorgeous on you.” My hands slip over her lower back, loving the feel of her body through the silky smooth fabric.
Layla shyly drops her stare to my chest, shaking her head. “You’re just saying that. But…thank you.”
“Am not. Every man here has had their eyes on you tonight.”
She scoffs and glances around. “Nice try. The only men looking at me right now are old enough to be my grandpa.”
“Because they’ve been around long enough to recognize real beauty,” I say with a wink.
Giggling, she smacks me on the shoulder. “You’re ridiculous…” Her eyes soften. “But thank you for the compliment.”
The night goes on, and the longer we dance, the more touchy-feely we get.Daring to lean closer, I bury my nose in her hair and fill my lungs with her mango-scented shampoo. Instead of pulling away, she presses her body closer to mine.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over her, over us, over this. I’m grieving in real time.
“I already miss you so much,” I hear myself murmur. I know it’s a stupid thing to say when she’s right here in my arms but it’s the truth.
“I miss you, too,” Layla responds. “And I’m going to miss you even more when…” When things are over between us. Officially.
We haven’t been intimate ever since she told me she’s moving out early. And not because I haven’t wanted her. I always want Layla. But with her on her way out of my life faster than expected, I guess it sort of made our expiration date more obvious. It’s made things tense.
Though, the way her hands are rubbing my shoulder blades and stroking the back of my neck right now, it’s like we haven’t missed a beat.
She looks up into my eyes, like she’s searching for something.
“What is it, Belle?”
On a heavy exhale, she speaks to me. “I want to thank you. For the past two years, I put aside a huge part of myself. I focused all my energy on being a mom. My only objective was survival. But you…you reminded me that I exist in this world.”
“God, Layla. Don’t talk like that. You’re breaking my fucking heart.” I brush her bangs from her eyes before cradling her cheek. “Of course you exist. You’re important. You’re worthy. How could you ever forget that?”
She gives her head a slight shake. “I know that I invaded your space and I broke your rules and I crossed all your lines. But thank you for always treating me kindly, for never taking my dignity away from me.”
There’s nothing I could say to that. So I just lean down and kiss her. She kisses me back, and for a moment, everything that was wrong, suddenly feels right again.
We get lost in our own world, shutting out everything else. The night gets later, and we continue to dance. We continue to drink. It’s the best I’ve felt in a long time. Layla in my arms. The alcohol turning off my brain. It’s fucking fantastic.
I’m not all that talented when it comes to the faster, more upbeat songs, but I’m finding that I don’t need to know what I’m doing. I just need to stand here and sway as Layla wiggles her ass all over me.
The only hard thing is trying to remember that we’re not alone here on this wedding reception dance floor and that I have to keep my hands in PG-approved areas.
At the end of the night, Mom comes back to tell us that the celebrations are winding down. “Felix and Daphne have already left, and the last guests are on their way out,” she says.
I look around and realize that the tent is virtually empty. Damn. Layla and I were so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t even notice the place emptying out.
Grandma sidles up beside Mom, waggling a finger at us. “And neither of you is driving home tonight after drinking.”
Mom nods. “Karli and your brothers are all staying in their old rooms tonight. You can sleep in your old room.”
The two bossy women don’t wait for an answer before leading the way to the house.
Layla and I trade a look. We haven’t been getting intimate. We stopped spending our nights together. We’ve re-established a line between us.
And now, we’re stuck here with just one bed to share.
I mumble by her ear. “I…I can sleep on the couch or…”
She quickly shakes her head at me. “I will.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” I declare firmly, glaring at her.
Layla’s silent for a moment before agreeing with me. “It would look suspicious if your girlfriend didn’t sleep in your room,” she whispers back.
Then her gaze travels to my lips, lingering there and turning heated before bouncing to my eyes. I feel the temperature rise inside me.
Fuck it.
We don’t have to speak another word to come to a consensus. Snatching a bottle of champagne to go, I grab her hand and we creep inside. I can hear my siblings in other parts of the house, but no one pays us any mind.
Still, we try to tiptoe up the stairs, which somehow goes completely awry. The quieter we try to be, the louder we get, laughing and shushing each other all the way to my childhood bedroom.
Once inside with Layla, I kick off my stiff dress shoes and fall back onto my old bed. Luckily, with being the oldest sibling, I lucked out with a full-size bed, but it’s still tiny as hell for two adults.
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” I tease Layla as I watch her wobbling around. “I thought you could outdrink me?”
She grumbles dramatically. “I’m not drunk! See? If I was drunk, could I walk in a straight line?”
She tries to prove her point, adorably hobbling from one side of my bedroom to the other end. She’s still wearing her bridesmaid dress, but she lost her heels on the way up the stairs.
I lean back against my pillows, getting comfy. “A runway walk? Fancy. Now do a little spin for me.”
With a giggle, she spins. Then she shakes her hips.
All the blood runs toward the center of my body.
I press a hand to my chest. “Ooh! I get a little shimmy, too? Tonight must be my lucky night.”
“Yeah, I think you’re about to get lucky.” She bites down on her lower lip. She reaches around, unzipping the back of her gown, and starting to undress for me.
My heartbeat quickens. No one’s ever stripped for me before. I’m dying for a peek at her gorgeous curves.
But then I remember—she broke up with me. Didn’t she?
It pains me to sit up and hold my hand up. “Layla, I know that we’re stuck sleeping in this tiny room tonight, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
She lets out a cute, little growl. “Shut up, Archer. I’m sick of you being a gentleman. Now, take off your shirt while you’re at it.”
I blink. “Okay. Yes, ma’am.” I quickly unbutton my white dress shirt and toss it aside. As I do, I refuse to take my eyes off of Layla.
She’s standing in the middle of my bedroom. She seductively pushes one of her dress straps off her shoulder. Then the other.
As soon as the straps fall, the rest of the silky fabric slips off her body, pooling on the floor at her feet.
My mouth waters when she’s down to her bra and barely-there panties. Layla’s little strip show makes me realize that I’ve been missing out.
I clear my throat. “Come here.”
She doesn’t hesitate, stepping across the room. Then she’s at the foot of my too-small bed and crawling toward me.
“You want me to make you feel good?” I ask her when she’s in my arms.
“Yes . ”
I drop kisses to the curve of her neck while I unclasp her bra. She mewls for me.
I gaze around the room before meeting her eyes again. “These walls are super thin, Belle.”
I grab the lace fabric of her panties, ripping the flimsy thing off her body with a firm tug. She gasps and I seal my mouth over her’s in a long, dirty kiss.
“Ronan’s bedroom is on that side, and Darius’s bedroom is on the other side. Are you gonna be a quiet girl for me?” I reach between us and flick the pad of my thumb over her clit.
Her back arches and she throws her head up to the ceiling. “ Yes… ”
I ball up her torn underwear, grazing it over her lips. She eagerly opens her mouth and I shove her panties inside.
My lips curl into a half-grin. “Such a good girl.”