Chapter 29
Lark
Resist the urge to alphabetize the ornaments by color again.
—From Lark’s Christmas to-do list
"Are you okay?" Harper asks in a low voice.
No, I’m not.
My groom literally bolted from my side, minutes after we exchanged vows.
And it’s not like this is some fairy-tale love match. We married for reasons that have nothing to do with romance and everything to do with our own agendas. This is far from the perfect wedding I envisaged for myself.
I should be mortified. But for the first time in my life, appearances don’t matter. I don’t really care how disastrous it looks from the outside. I’m too busy worrying about my husband.
Is he alright?
I saw his expression as he walked away, and it gutted me. He looked tortured. What’s happening in his head? How do I reach him? How do I help?
But I can’t share my concerns with her. And I don’t want to lie to her. So, I avoid answering her.
Instead, I clear my throat. "Can you get me a glass of water, please?"
Harper’s forehead creases. She looks like she’s going to push for an answer, so I send her a half smile. "Please?"
Her lips turn down. She doesn’t look happy, but she nods. Then turns and heads to the counter with drinks which has been set up against the far wall of the anteroom.
It’s adjacent to the main chambers where we married. I’m waiting with the rest of the Davenports, including Imelda. And for Brody and Arthur to rejoin us so we can head to Arthur’s place for the reception.
Outside the window, flecks of snow drift down from the sky. It looks like it's going to be a white Christmas. My favorite. But I can’t find any joy in it.
I play with my engagement and wedding rings, casting another glance toward the door.
What’s taking them so long? James reassured me that Brody would be along shortly. That he and Arthur were catching up. What could have happened for Brody to stalk off like that? Was he having second thoughts? This was his idea, after all. So, what set him off?
Tyler’s daughter Serene screams as she runs past me with Sinclair and Summer’s son Matty in hot pursuit.
Then Serene trips and falls, and bursts out crying.
Before I can think twice, I race toward her, pick her up and examine her knees, then her hands. She’s unhurt. But the shock must have gotten to her.
“It’s okay, honey.” I sit down and pull her into my lap. “You’re good.”
Matty appears next to me, followed by Serene’s mother Priscilla, who I met earlier.
“Is she okay?” Priscilla sinks down next to me.
“She’s fine. Just shaken.” I rock the little girl in my arms, imagining what it would be like to have my own child. Perhaps, with Brody's dark hair and my green eyes…
Her crying lessens, and she looks up at me with luminous eyes.
She sniffles. “You look like a princess.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
She touches the fabric of my new dress. “It’s so soft.”
“I’m so sorry, it’s crumpled.” Priscilla holds out her arms, and I hand over Serene.
“Oh, don’t worry about it at all. I’m glad I was close by and could comfort her.”
“Why are you crying?” Matty sniffs. “You’re such a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.” Serene’s chin trembles. “I’m crying because I fell.”
“But you’re not hurt,” Matty points out.
She sniffles. “Well…" For a few seconds, she looks confused. "I thought I was.”
“But you're not. So come and play.” Matty holds out his hand.
Serene looks at Priscilla.
“You can play, but please, no more running,” Priscilla admonishes.
"I won't." Serene flashes us a smile, places her hand in Matty’s, and the two skip off.
“If only we adults were as resilient, eh?” Priscilla rises to her feet.
So do I. Some of the tension from my shoulders fades.
Around me, the group resumes chatting with each other. Raya gestures at something while talking with Skylar.
My mother turns back to her conversation with Imelda and June.
That’s when the door is pushed open, and Brody walks in.
Oh, thank God. My first instinct is to rush to him. But on the heels of that is confusion. Why did he leave me like that? And right after the wedding ceremony.
He stalks toward me with that lithe grace of his which I’ve always found so very unusual for a man his size.
He comes to a stop about a foot in front of me.
I realize he’s keeping enough space between us, so I don’t have to crane my head to see his face.
Somehow, his consideration only pisses me off further.
If he were really being considerate, he wouldn’t have left me and walked out without an explanation.
In the silence that follows, he says, without looking away from me. "Imelda, Arthur’s waiting for you at the balcony on the second floor. As for the rest of you, could I ask you to leave so I can talk to my wife?"
Instantly, the crowd begins to move. Imelda walks toward the door with Tiny in tow. The mutt pauses to butt his head against my arm. I scratch behind his ear and half smile. "Good boy."
He makes a purring sound at the back of his throat and allows Imelda to lead him out. Behind me, there’s the sound of clinking as the group set down glasses. There’s a rustle of fabric as they begin to move. I hear someone call Matty’s name, probably Sinclair.
Harper hands me a glass of water on the way out. I nod my thanks, and she gives me a small smile.
Within seconds, they’ve left. The door shuts softly behind them.
Some of the tension seems to leave Brody’s shoulders.
“Are you okay?” I take a sip of the water, then walk back to the bar counter and set the glass aside.
“I will be.” He closes the distance to me. "I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to leave you the way I did."
I raise one eyebrow, but stay silent.
"I never meant to embarrass you like that in front of our families. I’ll never forgive myself for doing that. I needed to get my thoughts in order and couldn’t do that, not when I was so close to you."
"You didn’t want to be close to me?" I tip up my chin in his direction.
What I see in his eyes makes me falter. There’s true apology and regret, and it’s underlined by something soft and sharp at the same time. Something which feels like a combination of lust and an emotion I can’t quite place.
"I wanted to be close to you. Very close to you. Too close to you. It’s why I had to leave."
"Oh." I swallow. "I’m not sure what you mean."
He drags his fingers though his hair. "I mean, I want you. Too much. Enough to make me realize I calculated wrong."
"Calculated?"
He nods. "I hoped to keep some semblance of sanity, some shred of common sense when I married you. Something that would help me put distance between us. I didn’t want my heart involved in this arrangement."
My chest hurts. My throat closes. He wants to keep me at arm's length.
"It might be best if I leave.”
I begin to walk past him, but he curls his fingers around my wrist. Instantly, goosebumps creep up my thigh. My heart seems to drop to the space between my legs. One touch… That’s all it takes for him to command me.
"Didn’t you hear what I said?"
Sensations vibrate out from the point of contact. "I did. And it sounded very much like you don’t want to be drawn into whatever it is that’s between us."
He half smiles, then explains, "I'm already drawn into what's between us. So much so, I can’t stop thinking of you. I wake up with images of you in my head. I fall asleep thinking of your smile. I dream of touching you, holding you, kissing you, making love to you"—his voice drops—"fucking you."
The heat between my thighs turns nuclear. Sweat beads my brow. His words are a spark, and there’re explosives running through my veins.
"Y-you…mean—"
"That I want you very much. So much, it screwed up my thinking. Made me want to put distance between us, rather than confront what I’m feeling."
"What…are you feeling?" I breathe.
In reply, he leans in and presses his lips to mine. Instantly, I detonate. Heat screeches through my veins. Fire zips out from the point of contact of our mouths and lights up all my nerve endings.
I feel like a Christmas tree whose lights have been turned on. Dazzling from head to toe. Like a live wire which has been ignited.
I part my mouth on a gasp, and he sweeps his tongue in. The taste of him is an aphrodisiac. The scent of him sinks into my skin, clings to my pores. Makes me desperate for more. I cling to his shoulders, parting my legs. He moves in.
He wraps his big arms around me, enveloping me in his heady masculinity, which makes my head spine. I groan into his mouth. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss further. He sucks on my mouth, consuming me completely.
I melt into him. I am but a raindrop who’s merged with the ocean. I am lost. In him. He makes a growling noise at the back of his throat. The vibrations rumble up his chest and ignite pinpricks of sensations over my skin.
"I want you. So much," he murmurs against my mouth. I stare into those mesmerizing eyes and feel any anger I might harbor against him, any reluctance, any hesitation… All of it fades.
"I want you, too," I admit.
"Be patient with me. Until I figure out my thoughts." He frames my face with his big hands. "Please?"
His beautiful eyes are filled with a pleading which melts my heart. I’m spiraling down a hole from which I can’t climb out. I find myself nodding. "Okay."
"Okay." He kisses me again, and it feels like he’s drawing my very essence into his mouth. Unable to bear the intensity of what I see in his eyes, my own close. The next second, the world tilts. With an impressive display of strength, he rises to his feet with me in his arms.
I cling to him, unable to take my gaze off his strong, gorgeous profile. He strides across the floor; shoulders open the doors, and steps out.
There’s silence for a few seconds, then applause breaks out, along with a few whistles and catcalls.
"Go Brody," James calls out.
I flush. Brody smirks. Confetti rains down on us. Some of the glittering particles stick to his hair. He looks so handsome. My heart flutters. My pussy clenches. I want this man so much.
I want my husband so much.
It’s a perfect moment. Closer to the kind of wedding I envisioned for myself. But now that it’s here, all I care about is that he's my husband. Mine.
When the noise dies down, Brody grins at the assembled crowd. "Change of plans, folks. My wife and I are leaving on our honeymoon right away."