29. Something About Forever
29
SOMETHING ABOUT FOREVER
CONNOR
The thing about wedding preparations is that they're a lot like board meetings—excessive attention to minute details, too many opinions, and an overwhelming urge to escape.
"The boutonnieres have to be exactly parallel to the lapel," Grayson insists, adjusting mine for the fifth time. "Mac's very specific about the photos."
We're tucked away in one of the private rooms at The Evergreen Gardens, Seattle's most exclusive venue—where old-money rose gardens meet new-money glass pavilions. Rain patters gently against the windows, creating that quintessential Pacific Northwest ambiance that photographers apparently kill for.
"Touch my lapel one more time," I warn, "and you'll be explaining to Alex why his Best Man is missing fingers."
"Such violence," Callum drawls from where he's lounging in a leather armchair. "Though perhaps our friend is simply eager to find his wife? I hear the garden's east conservatory has excellent... acoustics."
Luke snorts into his champagne .
"Funny how things work out," Grayson muses, finally stepping back from my lapel. "Will gets arrested, leaving an opening in the wedding party, and suddenly your accidental wife is a bridesmaid."
"Pure coincidence," I say dryly.
"Of course." Callum's smirk grows. "Just like it's purely coincidental that Mac immediately asked Ariana to step in. Almost as if someone had been plotting this since Vegas..."
"Mac's very strategic that way," I concede, checking my watch. Twenty minutes until the ceremony. Twenty minutes to find Ariana, to steal a moment before the chaos really begins.
"Go," Grayson sighs. "But if Mac asks, I tried to stop you."
"No, you didn't."
"No," he grins, "I really didn't."
I slip out before they can start another round of commentary on my love life, navigating The Evergreen Gardens' winding paths. The glass-enclosed walkways offer protection from Seattle's spring rain while maintaining the illusion of being surrounded by nature. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the murmur of arriving guests.
My phone buzzes:
YASMIN: East conservatory
YASMIN: Your wife is doing that thing again
YASMIN: Where she pretends she's not compulsively-organizing everyone's lives
I find Ariana exactly where Yasmin said she'd be, standing among rare orchids and trailing vines. She's still in her getting-ready robe, dark hair falling in waves down her back, and something in my chest does that thing it always does when I see her—like my heart's forgetting how to beat properly.
She's staring at her phone, lips curved in a way that means trouble.
"Should I be concerned?" I ask, moving closer .
She jumps slightly, then relaxes when she sees me. "Depends.”
She wordlessly holds up her phone, and I lean in to read:
brEAKING NEWS: Wellness Empire Exposed! Drake-Patel Enterprises Founders Arrested for Fraud
“How do you feel about karma?"
I shrug. “Generally? Or specifically regarding your ex-fiancé getting arrested for running a predatory wellness scheme through medical support groups?"
Her eyes widen. "You knew?"
"I might have had something to do with the SEC investigation." I step closer, breathing in the vanilla scent of her skin. “We’re days away from the IPO. I had to make sure the SEC knew all the recent developments at Clearwater.”
“And then?”
“And then, I shared a few of Will’s ‘recent developments’.” I lean in, pressing my lips against hers for a quick kiss. “Consider it a wedding present."
"You got Will arrested as a wedding present?"
"Technically, Will got himself arrested." My hands find her waist. "I just made sure the right people were paying attention."
"And now look at us," she muses, fingers playing with my tie. "Both in the wedding party. Almost like someone planned it."
"Mac is surprisingly devious.”
"She is. And speaking of devious…Dad's kidney support group is throwing a spirulina-free party to celebrate Will's arrest."
"As long as there's no experimental smoothies involved."
"No promises." She tugs gently on my tie. “Nonetheless, you do clean up nice, Mr. Reeves."
"So do you, Mrs. Reeves." I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Even if you're not technically in your bridesmaid dress yet. "
Her gaze lowers. "Maybe I like being undressed around you."
"Dangerous words, wife."
"Going to do something about it, husband?"
I do.
The kiss starts slow, teasing, but quickly turns into something else entirely. Something heated and desperate and absolutely inappropriate for a wedding day. Her hands tangle in my hair as I back her against the terrace wall, hitching her up so she can wrap her legs around my waist.
"We shouldn't," she gasps as my mouth finds her neck.
"Probably not."
"The ceremony?—"
"Starts in fifteen minutes."
"Your suit?—"
"Is definitely getting wrinkled."
She laughs, breathless, as I slide my hand under her robe. "Connor..."
"Yes, wife?"
"We're going to be late."
“It’ll be worth it."
I press her against the terrace wall, feeling the cool stone contrast with the heat of her body. My hands slide under her robe, tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. Her breath hitches as I dip lower, fingers grazing the lace of her panties.
"Connor," she whispers, a plea and a promise all at once.
I capture her mouth again, swallowing her gasp as I slip my hand inside the lace. She's already wet, already ready, and the knowledge makes my dick rock hard. Desperate now, I stroke her slowly, deliberately, feeling her shudder against me.
"Is this what you wanted?" I murmur against her lips. "For me to touch you like this? To make you come apart before the wedding even starts? "
Her only response is a soft moan, her hips moving in time with my fingers. I circle her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp, then dip lower, teasing her entrance.
"You're so fucking beautiful like this," I growl, watching her face flush with pleasure. "So fucking mine."
Her nails dig into my shoulders as I slide a finger inside her, then another. She's tight, so tight, and I can't wait to feel her around me later.
But for now, this is about her. About making her feel good, about giving her a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure before the chaos of the day takes over.
I curl my fingers, hitting that spot inside her that makes her cry out. Her body tenses, and I can feel her getting closer, can feel her body coiling like a spring.
"That's it, baby," I coax, my voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."
And she does. With a soft cry, she comes undone, her body pulsing around my fingers, her face a picture of pure ecstasy. I hold her through it, my own desire raging but ignored.
This was for her. This was always for her.
Slowly, she comes down from her high, her body relaxing against mine. I slip my fingers out of her, bringing them to my mouth and sucking them clean. Her eyes darken as she watches, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"You're incorrigible," she breathes, her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"And you love it," I reply, stealing one last kiss.
Just then, the first notes of the processional music drift up from the courtyard.
"Fuck," I mutter against her skin.
"Later," she promises, sliding down my body in a way that makes me seriously consider missing the ceremony entirely. "After you fulfill your Best Man duties."
"I'd rather fulfill my husband duties. "
"Patience." She straightens my tie, smirking. "Though maybe avoid telling everyone why you're late."
"You mean I shouldn't mention how my wife thoroughly debauched me before the ceremony?"
"Pretty sure that's not in the Best Man handbook."
"Neither is marrying your best friend's cousin's ex in Vegas, but here we are."
She rises on her toes, pressing one final kiss to my lips. "Go. Before Alex sends a search party."
"Stay right here?"
"Always." Her smile turns soft. "Though maybe put some distance between us during the vows. I've heard your singing voice can be... distracting."
“Oh come on, I only hit that note once.”
"The video evidence suggests otherwise."
I steal one more kiss, then force myself to step back. "This isn't over."
"Promise?"
The word hits somewhere deep in my chest. Because that's what this is, isn't it? A promise. Not just for tonight or tomorrow, but for all the chaotic, beautiful, impossible days ahead.
"I do," I say softly.
Her breath catches at the words, understanding flickering in her eyes. Then the music swells, and reality crashes back.
"Go!" She pushes me toward the door. "Before Grayson has an aneurysm about the photo schedule."
I run, dodging well-dressed guests and flower arrangements, making it to my place just as Alex appears.
"Cutting it close," he mutters.
"Worth it."
He glances at my slightly rumpled suit, my definitely-messed-up hair, and grins. "I'd ask where you've been, but..."
"Focus on your own wedding, Drake."
"Says the man who managed to get married before me. "
"Accidentally."
"Sure." He straightens his tie. "Because accidentally falling in love is totally your style."
I'm about to respond when Mac appears at the end of the aisle, and suddenly nothing else matters.
Because this—watching my best friend marry the love of his life, knowing my own wife is somewhere in the crowd probably already planning our next crisis—it feels like exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Even if I'd rather be thoroughly debauching said wife against a terrace wall.
But that's what forever is for, right?
The music changes, signaling the start of the ceremony, and I catch Ariana's eye across the courtyard. She winks, and my heart does that thing again—that complete rebellion against proper rhythm that started the moment she crashed into my life.
Forever, I think, has never looked so good.