Chapter 48 The Wedding #2
“They did?” My heart lifts. “Did you ask to work four days a week so you can come home for long weekends?”
I don’t catch myself quick enough to stop the word ‘home’ from slipping out.
Her eyes pinch. “No… I didn’t.”
“You didn’t?” A growing sense of dread starts winding its way around my windpipe, inching up slowly like a poisonous weed that’s determined to destroy everything in its path.
This is it. The final goodbye. She’s come to tell me it’s over. She doesn’t want to put us through the strain of long-distance, even though I’m more than willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.
I haven’t allowed myself to consider it not working.
I can’t.
“Tate—”
“I know we talked about it last time I saw you, but…” She sighs. “That’s not what I want, Sullivan.”
I struggle to hold it together as my breath comes in jagged pants.
I’ve lost her. She didn’t even want to try. I messed things up that badly that she couldn’t even bring herself to try in case I screwed up and hurt her again.
Now I’m going to have to explain to Molly that Tate’s gone again.
And just like the first time, it’s because of me.
She takes my hands and strokes them. I want to whip them away before the pain of knowing it’s the last time she’ll touch me takes over. But at the same time, I close my fingers around hers, pulling her closer until our bodies are flush, our chests grazing.
I don’t want to let her go.
“I understand,” I breathe, my throat burning as she looks into my eyes.
I can’t look away. I want to sear the sight of her into my soul, so I have something to remember her by when I go to hell after what I’ve put her through.
I ruined us. I broke us.
I deserve this.
I should be grateful that she came to break it to me in person. That’s Tate all over. Kind. Sweet. Thoughtful.
But all I feel is anger at myself.
“No. I don’t think you do,” she says, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her one last time. I haven’t felt her lips against mine since the night she lifted me up off the floor and held me together when I thought I was going to shatter into a billion pieces.
The last time I kissed her it was tinged with the salt of tears.
“Sullivan,” she urges, pulling me out of my head. “I didn’t ask, because I want something else instead.”
I fight the glimmer of hope away that’s poking at my heart like an incessant itch. If I let it in and I’m wrong, then I don’t know what I’ll do, or how I’ll survive.
“What do you want?”
Her eyes are glassy, her voice thick with emotion. “I told them if I couldn’t work remotely from New York, then I wasn’t taking the job.”
I stare at her, speechless.
“I said I’d love to work with them. But that I loved two people in New York more. And without them, I wouldn’t be able to write any songs, because their loss would be louder inside me than anything else. So, if they wanted songs, then I’d need to stay in New York in order to write them.”
The itch cascades like a waterfall, transforming into a rushing blur of thundering noise.
“You love two people in New York more?”
She nods. “Molly and my dad.”
She bites her lip, failing to hide her smile.
“I mean you, Sullivan,” she whispers, reaching up to stroke my hair. “I love you. And I’m staying in New York. With you and Molly.”
“You are?”
She nods.
I exhale shakily.
“Thank you.”
I cup her neck between my hands and tilt her face up, searching her eyes.
“I love you, Tate. I love you so fucking much.”
I don’t care that my voice cracks as I speak. I don’t care that I’m trembling. I don’t care that my head’s so light I’m in danger of passing out.
“I love you too,” she whispers, drawing my eyes to her soft lips.
“Please, say I can kiss you,” I choke. “Show me you mean it. That you’re really in this with us.”
“My heart’s always been with you and Molly. Always.”
She still hasn’t moved closer, despite her reassuring words. Despite the way her pulse is thundering erratically beneath the pads of my thumbs like it’s beating out my name in morse code.
“Please, Baby,” I beg.
Her breath hitches, and for an agonizing second she’s silent.
Then she nods.
One tiny, subtle movement.
But it’s all I need.
My mouth descends on hers with fevered hunger.
I waste no time in making her mine again, tasting and exploring every inch that I’ve missed. Molding us back together, piece by piece.
I groan into her mouth, and she pulls back, biting her lip in a smile. “Sullivan?”
“What?” I groan, slanting my mouth over hers and kissing her again.
“People might be looking.”
“People can mind their own fucking business,” I rasp, kissing her again. “You came back to us. You think I give a flying fuck who sees me kiss you? Besides, they’re all family and friends. They’ll see us kiss plenty at our wedding.”
She pulls back again, and I chase her, letting out a desperate growl at being denied.
“What?”
“You said you’re staying in New York,” I explain in response to her shocked expression.
“I—”
“Tate. If you’re coming back, then be assured, I will not fuck up again,” I say with conviction.
Her eyes widen.
“I’m not making that mistake again. You’ll be my wife… One day,” I add, to ease her into the idea, even though my mind is already formulating a plan to make that day as soon as fucking possible.
She blinks before laughing. But stops abruptly as she studies me.
“You’re serious?”
“Have you ever known me not to be?”
Her mouth drops open but before she can answer, a small tornado dressed in tulle runs over and crashes into us.
“Tate!”
I hoist Molly up into one arm. The beautiful smile on her face makes my chest fit to bursting.
“That’s right, Sweetheart. Tate came. And aren’t we happy to see her?” I wind my other arm around Tate’s waist and pull her closer.
Molly nods eagerly and holds her arms out. Tate moves closer so she can wrap them around her neck.
My grip on them both tightens as they embrace, protected inside my arms.
My girls.
“Dance, Daddy?” Molly asks sweetly, her eyes bouncing between me and Tate.
“Absolutely.” I smile at her.
“Go on. I’ll…” Tate gestures to a table with some empty seats by it.
I arch a brow at her as I say to Molly, “You want to dance with both of us, don’t you, Sweetheart?”
“Yay!” Molly claps her hands in delight.
Tate’s eyes shine as I tip my head toward the dance floor. “Shall we?”
I take Tate’s hand, keeping Molly held in my arm as I lead us in-between dancing couples. I turn and pull Tate into me, holding her close with my hand on her lower back.
She slides one hand up around my collar, placing the other around Molly.
The band moves into a cover of Ed Sheeran’s “All of the Stars”, and Molly rests her head against my shoulder, gazing at Tate with a magical smile, made all the sweeter by the innocence in it as Tate sings the words of the song softly to her.
I hold them both in my arms.
And we dance.
We dance until Molly grows heavy in my arms and her eyelids wilt. But still, my little girl fights sleep, not wanting to miss a moment. But as Tate smiles, first at her, then up at me, I realize.
Life will give me so many more moments like this now that I have them both.
“Molly gave me a reason to carry on after losing them both,” I tell Tate softly. “And so many times I thought I was screwing it up.”
“Sullivan,” she breathes, her eyes pinching with emotion. “You weren’t. Look how happy she is. You’re an amazing dad.”
I look down at Molly, settled happily against me, still fighting sleep.
My heart swells in my chest and I pull Tate closer.
“Then I met you. And I didn’t look at it as a challenge that I was failing at anymore.”
She blinks, tears building along her lashes. “How do you see it now?” She sniffs.
I smile softly. “As an adventure.”
“Sullivan.” She wipes at her eyes.
“Sorry to break up the happy reunion.”
Tate’s head snaps up as Sinclair holds out her arms, gesturing to Molly.
“But Denver and I want a dance with Molly.” She throws Tate a wide grin. “Hi, Tate.”
“Hi.” She smiles back.
“Glad you could make it,” Sinclair says as she takes Molly from my arms.
Denver’s beside her, and he tips his chin at Tate. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Tate replies, before biting her lower lip and smiling up at me.
Sinclair’s grinning, watching our exchange.
“Sullivan? Why don’t you show Tate around? There are lots of really romantic spots around the property that I’m sure she’d like to see.” She winks at me, then flicks her gaze toward Denver. “Aren’t there, Brute?”
Denver’s gaze burns into hers and he clears his throat and reluctantly agrees. “There are. Lots.”
Sinclair giggles at the gruffness in his voice, before tipping her head at me, and motioning for us to go.
It’s the first time my blood hasn’t boiled at the insinuation of my sister’s sex life before. In fact, right now I’m planning the ridiculously extravagant gift I’ll get her for her next birthday.
“Let’s go,” I say to Tate, even though I’m already marching her off the dance floor, my rapidly hardening dick making it near impossible to move without urgency.
“Sullivan?” She laughs. “Won’t people wonder where we’ve gone?”
“They won’t be wondering, they’ll know.”
“Oh my God.” She presses her hand over her eyes as I stalk to one of the entrances of the main house. The door’s wide open to allow people to come in and out to use the ground floor bathrooms.
I turn back and sweep her up into my arms, making her gasp.
“Sorry. Was I not moving fast enough for you?” She giggles.
I stride inside the house and carry her straight up the sweeping staircase to the upper level. My footsteps are strong and purposeful as I take us down the hallway, past Molly’s bedroom, and through the door opposite it that leads into my suite.
I place her onto her feet and lock the door behind us.
“Wow, this is beautiful,” Tate exclaims, her head swiveling to look at the four-poster bed with sheer drapes secured back around it, and the balcony that overlooks the ocean.
“You can admire the view after.”
She turns and her eyes drop to my chest as I waste no time yanking off my shirt.