Chapter 34
JULIA
“How many bridesmaids does one person need?” Aislin grumbles quietly from behind me.
Chuckling as I reach to pull a set of rollers from a shelf, I lift a shoulder in a shrug.
“I only had the one,” I tell her.
With fourteen women lined up to have their hair styled, we’ve all been working nonstop since seven o’clock this morning. Two of my stylists volunteered to come in on their day off to help us, and I’m grateful for the hours they saved us in doing that.
Grateful for the extra time that I got to spend tucked in bed with my boys.
After they came home last week and pulled me into the shower with them, we’d ordered some Italian and laid in bed together with a movie playing on the TV. It wasn’t until Connor had fallen asleep that Tripp told me what happened when he flew home.
I’d be lying to say that I wasn’t annoyed that he’d hidden it from me, but I understand why he did. He’s a proud man, a strong man, and vulnerability has never agreed with him very much.
Slapping a hand against Aislin’s pilates-toned bottom, I offer her a wide smile.
“Get back out there and tease like your life depends on it,” I tell her as I step through the door to the salon’s main room.
I’ve met the bride’s mother; our lives may actually depend on it.
All of my stylists are working tirelessly, like they have been for the past five hours, with butts in every chair and at least one glass of champagne in every hand. Each of the bridesmaids are donning silky mint green robes while the bride dominates the spotlight in ivory.
As I pull up a section of her hair to tease the roots, she swipes through the photo gallery on her cell phone. There have to be a hundred photos of her dress; a beautiful, detailed gown with a train to die for that must have cost her more than ten thousand dollars.
It’s entirely dissimilar to my twenty-dollar thrift store dress, but the dress that I wore to my senior prom?
Now, that was a gown. It wasn’t the one that I’d had my heart set on, because according to my mother, I’d needed to lose at least forty pounds in order for it to suit me, but it was still gorgeous.
I thought Tripp’s eyes were going to fall out of his skull when he came to pick me up that night.
My mother’s voice, the way that I remember it, claws its way into my mind.
‘It’s not your day, Julia,’ she tells me. ‘You’re being selfish again, Julia.’
The roller drops from my hand to clatter to the floor as I shake my head to try to force her from it. As I pick the roller off of the tile, earning a sideways glance from my bride, my fingers tug at the apron tied around my waist.
“Sorry about that, gorgeous,” I tell her as I separate the section once again and bring my comb through it. “Tell me how you met your hubby-to-be.”
“Oh, we met through a mutual friend,” she says, offering a warm smile to her own reflection. “She knew Travvy was my perfect match before I did…”
I feign paying attention to her story, offering smiles and nods in the mirror while she rambles on and on about her fiancé, who honestly doesn’t sound like much of a catch. With thirteen bridesmaids, I can’t believe not a single one of them hasn’t made any commentary.
Aislin would have plugged her nose at me and made a loud farting sound with her mouth if I told her that I was marrying this guy.
It takes another hour to finish her hair, all the while listening as she prattles on about the man she’s marrying in only a few hours.
I’ve styled her hair into cascading waves as we planned when she first contacted me, pulling the top half of it up into a braided crown.
We decide to adhere pearls throughout her hair to accent the gown, and I’m really happy with how it turned out. I think she is, too.
With another hour passing for their photographer to snap a series of staged photos, I walk them to to the door to wish them well as they climb into the massive bus waiting to take them to the wedding venue.
As they leave the lot, a familiar black sport bike enters it, and I smile as my husband slides off of the seat and pulls his helmet from his head. His fingers push through his white-blond locks as he unties a plastic bag from the left handle of his bike.
Deciding against waiting for him inside, I push through the door and meet him halfway through the lot with a tight hug and a kiss to his cheek.
“No Connor?”
“When I last saw him, he was waiting for someone to stop freaking out pre-piercing,” he chuckles. “He says hi, though.”
I bite back a smile as Tripp’s lips meet mine, my arms draping around his neck as his free hand drops to the small of my back.
We’re greeted with whistles as we walk into the salon, and I lower my head, shaking it with a laugh while Tripp eats up the attention on our way back to my office.
There are very few women I trust around my husband, especially when they make it known that they’re giving him their attention, but these girls are harmless.
Tripp locks the door behind us as we step into the office, resting his helmet and bag onto my desk before he drops into my spinning chair.
Widening the space between his knees, he gestures me forward, and I settle onto his lap, like I always have every time he’s come to visit me here.
He reaches ahead of me to pull food from the bag; a lunch that he must have stopped at home to make for me.
Leaning against his body, I rest my forehead against his, offering a soft kiss to his skin. A thumb traces his cheekbone, beneath eyes that look clearer and more well rested than they have all week.
“I’m good,” he assures me with a kiss to the tip of my nose, his fingers pushing through my hair to push it behind my ear as he answers a question that I don’t need to ask him out loud.
While we sit, his hand trails against my thigh, his lips peppering soft kisses against my shoulder. This wouldn’t be the first time that we’d ever locked ourselves back here for a little bit of alone time; if walls could talk, this room would never run out of things to say.
As his hand moves, his fingertips tease the seam between my legs to force a giggle out of me.
“Tripp,” I chide, moving a hand to cover his.
“Mmhmm?”
My hips roll against his hand as he cups me between my legs, now using his thumb to offer friction to the seam of my pants.
“You brought me a homemade lunch and you’re being touchy,” I tell him. “What are you not telling me?”
He doesn’t say anything for a long time, until a knot forms in my stomach as he rests his lips against my skin.
“I broke our code,” he finally admits to me. “I went through your books.”
My head whips in his direction as fire hits my skin. I don’t need to have a mirror in front of me to know how red my cheeks must be; I can feel the heat on them.
Tripp has never been allowed to look at my e-reader or open any of the books stored inside of it. They’re private, they’re personal; a few of them, I might even describe as completely unhinged. All of them are off-limits, and he knows this.
Before I can open my mouth to tear into him for violating our agreed-upon boundary, he sweeps my hair over my shoulder and presses another kiss to my skin.
“Don’t be mad, it was for a good cause,” he pleads. “I needed to know if you were into something before I brought the idea to you.”
Into what? Sixteen-foot tall extra terrestrials who somehow always make it fit?
“Tripp—”
His phone lands on the desk in front of me with the picture of a cover of one of the books categorized into my ‘favorite reads’ folder filling the screen. My eyes bulge at the image, and I think my heart my drops out of my body.
“Connor wants page two thirty-three,” he tells me.
“He’s not gonna ask you for it, because the last person who did it for him was Toni and she…
well, you’ve heard the Toni stories. You can fill in the blanks.
It’s his favorite thing and he hasn’t done it since.
I figure you could do it right for him for his birthday. ”
My legs spread as he adds more pressure to the seam of my pants, rolling his fingers back and forth against it to make my clit throb.
Before everything imploded in New York and he left for his spontaneous visit to see his parents, we’d been trying to come up with a plan to make Connor’s birthday special. Almost all of the pieces have fallen into place; dinner reservations, gifts, making sure that our schedules will align.
I’m not sure if he asked outright for this piece, or if this is my husband’s creative thinking, but the idea of it sends a burning heat coursing through my body.
“And you think that if you make me come, I’ll just agree to do it?” I taunt, rocking my hips into Tripp’s palm.
“No,” he chuckles, “I know you’ll agree to it because you put enough highlighter marks on that page that it looks like it’s covered in fucking confetti.
” The tip of his tongue swipes across my earlobe before his teeth meet my skin in a nibble, his voice lowering in pitch as he presses his lips to my ear.
“And I know you’ll agree to it, because you know I want to watch it. ”
“Did you read it?” I brave asking as he reaches for the tack of my pants.
“What do you think?”
His hand slides into my panties as he pushes open my zipper, the pad of his finger meeting my clit. Taking hold of his free hand, I guide him beneath my shirt, pushing my bra out of the way to let him roll my peaked nipple between his fingers as my hips grind against his lap.
“I’ll have to go to the store,” I tell him, my voice breathy as my hand moves behind me to tangle into his hair.
His mouth stays on my skin while he quickly works his fingers against my clit, kissing and sucking while he drives me closer to orgasm. If we had more time, he would spend it teasing and toying with me. Driving me crazy while he made me come over and over again.