Chapter 21 Delaney
DELANEY
Steal the crown. Buy the books. Wake the dragon. Marry the prince.
Life is too short to play by anyone else’s rules.
So make your own.
—Delaney’s Secret Thoughts
“Oh, Delaney,” Ashton whispers as another tear falls. My incredibly pregnant, incredibly hormonal sister has been a crying mess all morning. “You look—”
“Hot. You look fucking hot.” Kaleigh claps her hands like a literal kid in a candy shop with all the money in the world to spend and a sweet tooth the size of the Empire State Building to satisfy. “Ryker is going to lose his mind when you walk down that aisle.”
“You have such a beautiful way with words, Kay.” Dillan passes Kyrie off to Kaleigh and spins me around to the long cheval mirror in the bridal suite.
“You look incredible, Delaney.” She takes the ends of my veil and fluffs it up in the air, then watches as it billows to the ground.
“I’ve known Ryker for a long time. He’s a good man.
I know this whole thing started as a marriage of convenience, but I think you’ve definitely moved into the fake-to-forever trope. ”
Lexie moves beside Dillan and gently bumps her with her shoulder. “You are such a romance author.”
“But am I wrong?” Dillan pushes as my cheeks heat. “I’m not sure if you love the man yet, Lane, but I’d bet every penny, if you don’t, you will.”
“Leave her alone, Dillan.” Ashton steps in front of the girls and leans her head against mine. “You feeling okay?”
I nod, looking at our reflection in the mirror. “Well, I’m not ready to run away, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No,” she laughs. “That’s not what I was asking, but if that’s what you need, I can get the keys to the car and be back in five minutes.”
“You wouldn’t be able to waddle your ass to your husband in five minutes, let alone make it back with the keys to the car, preggo.
” Kaleigh’s on fire today, and honestly, it’s exactly what I need.
To laugh with these women about the insanity that is my life right now.
Because really . . . who does this? Who marries a man to save him?
Oh, that’s right. I do.
Because Ryker Beneventi saved me that night behind West End.
But the craziest thing is I think he may have been saving me in a million other ways since.
Ryker
“You think she ran away?” Hendrix jokes as we stand at the end of the aisle, waiting for a bridesmaid to finally make an entrance.
“Nah,” Jamie laughs. “Ashton wouldn’t let Delaney leave without her, and there’s no way my wife is running anywhere these days. She sat on the couch crying two days ago because she couldn’t see her feet.”
“So that’s what I’ve got to look forward to?” My brother asks Jamie, horror creeping through his voice. “I feel like Emmie’s barely pregnant and she’s already crying more.”
Hendrix shrugs. “Yeah, but just wait. It’s going to get worse, then all of a sudden, you have this baby crying, and your wife crying, and no one’s slept. You probably smell like puke. And you’re going to look at your life and wonder how the hell you ever got so lucky.”
Jamie, Mav, and I all stop and turn to Hendrix, and I’d wager a bet we all equally feel like assholes.
“Don’t do that,” he snaps. “This is a good day. And I’m just here to remind you that life is short.
Enjoy it. Enjoy your pregnant wives.” He throws a hand on my shoulder.
“Enjoy your new wife. The one you haven’t admitted you’re in love with yet, even though the rest of us have already seen it.
” He shoves his hands in his pockets and grins as Mav’s daughter, Rosie, and Hendrix’s son, Bodhi, stand at the end of the aisle with Tori on a pale-pink leash in front of them.
“Worship your wife. Love your kids . . . Just enjoy life.”
We watch as the kids and Notorious scramble down the aisle, Rosie tossing her rose petals as Tori pulls her forward, and Bodhi basically running to his grandmother as soon as he sees her. It’s a bit of a shit show, but it makes me smile.
Dillan steps up next and slowly makes her way toward us, followed by Lexie and Kaleigh before Ashton steps up, and I get my first glimpse of my girl behind her.
Ashton whispers something to Delaney, then kisses her cheek, and when she turns back around, she’s crying.
The four of us at the end of the aisle smile as Mav, Hendrix and I all then laugh at Jamie.
Finally, the music changes, and the string quartet plays a beautiful version of “Here Comes The Sun” as my beautiful bride locks her gold-flecked eyes with mine and smiles.
Her long dark hair is down in beautiful soft waves. The bruising is gone, and her makeup is back to being light and natural. A lacy white dress hugs her hips and skims her soft curves, and a long veil fans out behind her like a ribbon wrapping the perfect package.
She actually takes my breath away.
Hendrix leans in to my side, but I don’t take my eyes off Delaney. I can’t. “Life’s short, man. Don’t waste time that isn’t promised.”
And as this woman, my woman, slowly walks toward me, I know what he means. And I make a silent vow to not waste another minute.
After handing her bouquet to Ashton, Delaney turns to face me. “Hi,” she mouths without saying a word, then smiles and signs, Are you ready to do this thing?
With Hendrix’s words still ringing in my ear, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her, drowning out the cheering from the guests and the way the priest tries to get our attention.
“Yeah, baby. I’m ready.”
Damn . . . This is a mistake.
Not the marriage. Not Delaney.
This—the reception.
The family.
All the pomp and fucking circumstance surrounding this.
I’ve had my hands on my wife for hours, but not a single minute of it’s been alone.
Not. One. Second.
“Why do you look like you’re about to commit another felony, brother?” Jamie asks, a stupid, shit-eating grin on his face that only grows when I glare at him. “What? Too soon?”
“Maybe just a little.” I take a sip of my drink. “I’m married.”
“That’s what typically happens at a wedding.” He shakes his head and turns toward our wives on the dance floor. “They look happy out there.”
Yeah, they do.
Delaney’s laughing and smiling with the girls as she shakes her hips to the beat and throws her head back, her long hair kissing the small of her back.
She looks like she belongs here.
Belongs to me.
“You’re staring again,” Jamie sighs. He’s right. I am. And I’m not about to look away.
“I’m watching my wife.”
The music shifts, and I’m grateful for the volume and the vibrations and my hearing aids because I can enjoy it all.
I watch the girls drag her back to the middle of the dance floor and hear the beat she’s swaying to.
Her hair falling loose around her shoulders, bare feet on the makeshift dance floor, spinning like she forgot to care that there are three hundred people watching her.
And that’s what gets me.
Not the dress or the way she fills it out.
Not the way every man here can’t keep their eyes off her.
It’s that look on her face.
The freedom.
The carefree softness she never lets anyone see.
She’s relaxed, and she’s happy, and she’s never been more beautiful.
“What are you waiting for?”
Great fucking question. Before I can blink, I’m moving. Drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And my girl feels me before she sees me. My hand slides around her waist, firm and steady as I pull her back against my chest. My lips skim her ear. “Having fun, wife?”
Her breath catches, and I swear I feel that vibration everywhere.
She wraps her arms around mine and lays her head back on my chest. “That depends.”
“On?” I push.
She brushes her lips over my jaw and turns in my arms. “How long you’ve been watching?”
My thumb drags along her lower lip. “Long enough.”
“Creepy,” she giggles, and damn, that sound fucking destroys me.
“Obsessed.” Her eyes darken, and I know that did it. “You’re my obsession, wife.”
She presses her lips to mine quickly before pulling back.
It’s a tease, and I want so much more.
“Dance with me, wife.” Fuck, I love calling her that.
“I already am, husband.” Her golden eyes shimmer, and I know exactly what she’s thinking, like I can read her mind. Time’s up. She’s my wife. No more counting down the days.
My hand settles on the bare skin of her lower back, just above where lace meets silk, and like the universe owes me one, the song slows, and I take her other hand in mine and hold it between our chests. She fits against me like she was always meant to be there.
“We’re being watched,” she whispers, licking her lips, like she’s dying to kiss me the way I’m dying to here. Not a peck. Not a brush of the lips. A fucking claiming.
“Good,” I groan. “Let them see. That’s the whole point of tonight, right? So everyone can see. So pictures can get posted and articles can be written.”
Fake it. Sell it.
But the way I’m touching her . . . The way I feel about her . . .
It’s not for them.
It’s not fake.
“Let them see what they want. We know the truth,” I murmur.
Delaney tips her head back, giving me a better angle of her face. She’s also giving me a better angle to look down her dress. I appreciate both equally. “You’re different tonight, Ryker.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask. “How so?”
“I don’t know,” she shakes her head. The green-apple scent of her hair catching in the wind, and I’m pretty sure I have a visceral fucking reaction to it. Damn, she smells good. “You’re more relaxed tonight.”
“I’m done pretending.” Pretty simple answer.
She chews her glossy lip, silent for a minute. “I think I am too.”
“So no more pretending between us then?” I drop my lips to her and grin. “No lying. No faking it. You’re mine, Delaney Beneventi.”
“Yours, Ryker,” she whispers against my lips, and even if I couldn’t hear her, I’d know in my heart exactly what she said because I can feel it.
Something between us shifts and snaps into place.
And for tonight, I shove the uncertainty away.
Fuck the future and whatever it holds. I’ll fight for this. For her. No one is taking this from me.
The music fades, but neither of us moves until the wedding coordinator taps Delaney’s shoulder. “Are you ready to cut the cake, Mr. and Mrs. Beneventi?”
Lane looks from her to me and nods. “Looks like you were saved by sugar, pretty boy.”
“Saved?” I groan because it feels like I was just cock-blocked by sugar.
“Yup, saved.” She smiles. “I was about to climb you like a tree. Not sure that’s the kind of PR you need with the league.”
Fucking sugar.
With my hand pressed to her back, we walk over to the cake table.
Damn, Lexie outdid herself. It’s a five-tier white cake covered in edible wildflowers and tiny butterflies, just like the ones in Love in Bloom.
Wildly over-the-top, like everything else tonight, but this .
. . this makes Lane smile, and for that, I owe Lexie one.
With my hand covering hers, we pose for the camera as we slice the cake, and I run my finger through the icing and offer it up to my wife.
“You’re not going to try shoving that thing in my face?” she asks hesitantly before licking the icing off the tip, and I shove down my groan, knowing I’m going to spank her ass for this later.
We’re each handed small cake plates, and I can’t help the filthy smile on my lips if I tried. “Not in front of everyone, I’m not,” I warn her quietly. “But let’s remember to take some to the hotel with us tonight.”
Lane’s face lights up like she’s in on a secret she can’t wait to share. She lifts the small square of cake to my lips and lifts up onto her toes, bringing her closer to my ear. “Lexie already sent a small layer of it ahead to the hotel for us.”
I fucking love Lexie.
I hold my piece up to her lips, and she blinks as she takes a small bite.
My thumb brushes the corner of her mouth, catching a tiny bit of icing, and her breath catches as I bring it to my mouth slowly. Deliberately. Holding her gaze as I suck it off my thumb.
Yeah . . . That did what I wanted.
Her eyes darken, and her breath quickens, and I wonder how much longer we have to stay here.
“Fucking delicious.” I lick my lips, then press a kiss to hers, and the cheering starts again as I drag my wife back to the dance floor.