Chapter 18
Iwoke up in paradise with his arm heavy across my waist. Lesley slept hard when he finally let himself, chest rising slow and steady, lips parted just enough to remind me he wasn’t as untouchable as he wanted the world to believe.
My body still felt wrung out from the night before—his mouth, his hands, his need to touch every part of me. On that jet, I swore he’d branded me for life. By the time we touched down, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I was his, period.
The villa only made it worse. Open windows, ocean air, sheets that smelled like salt and us. He hadn’t let me out of his sight since we landed, and I hadn’t wanted to be anywhere but under him, next to him, pressed up against his heat.
If there’d been any doubt about how I felt, Turks and Caicos ripped it out of me. I loved him. God help me, I loved him.
But loving Lesley Grimson meant carrying weight most women would run from.
Later that morning, we walked through the local market in town. Lesley had suggested it casually— “Want to see how the locals live?”—but I suspected he just wanted to get me out of the villa before we never left the bedroom.
The market was alive with color and sound.
Vendors called out in accented English, offering everything from hand-carved jewelry to locally grown mangoes.
The air smelled like spices and ocean breeze, and I found myself stopping at every stall, charmed by the craftsmanship and stories behind each piece.
At a fabric vendor’s booth, I ran my fingers over a bolt of silk the color of Caribbean water. The older woman behind the counter smiled, launching into the story of how her grandmother had taught her to dye fabric using flowers from the island.
“This one,” she said, pointing to the silk, “takes three days. Very patient work. Like love, yes? The good things, they take time.”
I felt Lesley step closer behind me, his presence warm at my back. When I glanced up, he wasn’t looking at the fabric or listening to the vendor’s story. He was watching me— memorizing the way I looked in this moment.
“You want?” the woman asked, already reaching for her scissors.
“She wants,” Lesley said before I could answer, pulling out his wallet. His voice was rougher than usual.
As we walked away with the wrapped fabric, I bumped his shoulder with mine. “What was that look about?”
“What look?”
“The one where you were staring at me like I was about to disappear.”
He stopped walking, right there in the middle of the busy market, people flowing around us like water around stones.
“Lesley?” My voice was soft, steady.
“Yeah, pretty baby?”
The words just came out, no filter, no fear, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Coco. Real bad.”
We shared a laugh because his silly side was becoming my favorite side. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that he didn’t play the radio, but his softness spoke to me. I needed soft sometimes.
We spent the rest of the afternoon hands linked, kissing between vendor stalls, him buying me anything I so much as lingered on.
I told myself I didn't need it, but the way he looked at me when he handed things over made me take every damn bag. That confession earlier had settled between us and changed the temperature of everything. The fun was still there, but underneath it, we’d locked into place. Permanent.
When tourists asked to take our picture by the harbor, I didn’t flinch. I leaned in close, smiling. We couldn’t get enough of each other; we were in too deep to even pretend otherwise.
Back at the villa, I noticed the change in the smallest ways.
I wasn’t walking on eggshells around him anymore.
He wasn’t holding back the way he had been.
I unpacked my silk scarves on the dresser like it was ours.
And when I caught him later, on the phone handling business, his voice low and commanding, I didn’t just feel the usual flutter in my stomach.
I felt proud. That man in control? That was mine.
By evening, we were getting dressed for dinner. I caught him staring at me in the mirror while I adjusted my dress straps. Not just staring—watching.
“Why you looking at me like that?” I asked, smoothing the silk over my hips.
He didn’t answer right away. Just walked up behind me, slid his hands around my waist, and locked eyes with me through the glass.
“‘Cause I never thought love would feel like this,” he said finally, voice low, rough. “Never thought I’d want somebody the way I want you.”
He kissed my temple, lingering there. “Whatever happens, just always promise to trust me.”
The walk to dinner felt different. The usual path to the restaurant had been lined with small lanterns, casting a warm glow against the darkening sky. Soft jazz drifted from speakers hidden in the palm trees, and I could smell jasmine and roses in the air.
“Lesley, what’s going on?” I asked, but he just squeezed my hand.
“You’ll see.”
When we rounded the corner, I stopped dead.
The beach had been transformed into something straight out of a fairy tale.
White fabric billowed between palm trees, chairs arranged in perfect rows facing the ocean.
Rose petals created a pathway leading to an altar where the waves met the sand.
Candles flickered in glass hurricanes, and soft string lights twinkled overhead like captured stars.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, my hands flying to my mouth.
That’s when I heard it—familiar laughter that made my heart nearly burst.
“Surprise!” Rebecca’s voice carried across the beach, followed by Yaslynn’s distinctive cackle.
I spun around to see my girls running toward me in flowing sundresses, arms wide, grins splitting their faces. I met them halfway, and we collided in a tangle of squeals and tears.
“Girl, your husband flew us out!” Rebecca said, squeezing me tight. “Private jet and everything!”
“He said he wanted to give you the wedding you deserved,” Yaslynn added, pulling back to look at me with tears in her eyes. “With your people. Your real family. We had to come. Rashad sends his love.”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. I looked back at Lesley, who was watching with that soft smile that was reserved just for me.
“You did this?” I choked out.
He walked over, cupping my face in his hands. “You said you never had anyone to invite to a wedding. Said it was just you.” His thumb brushed away a tear I didn’t know had fallen. “But it’s not just you anymore, Coco. You got me. You got them. You got us.”
“Colecion,” a gentle voice said nearby.
I turned to find a woman I didn’t recognize holding the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen—flowing white chiffon that caught the ocean breeze.
“I’m Monica, Eric’s wife. Your husband asked me to coordinate everything.” She smiled warmly. “We have about an hour before sunset. Shall we get you ready for your real wedding?”
The tears came harder then, and I couldn’t stop them. He’d listened. Really listened when I’d mentioned not having family, when I’d said our courthouse ceremony felt hollow. He’d taken that pain and turned it into this—into everything I’d never known I wanted.
“Come on, Mrs. Grimson,” Rebecca said, linking her arm through mine. “Let’s get you married. For real this time.”
As they led me toward the villa, I looked back at Lesley one more time. He was standing there in the candlelight, hands in his pockets, watching me with so much love in his eyes it took my breath away.
This man had given me everything I’d never had—family, celebration, a moment that was entirely mine. And tonight, under the stars with the people who loved me most, I was going to marry him all over again.
This time, for love.
The villa’s master suite had been transformed into a bridal suite. Soft music played from hidden speakers—D’Angelo’s “Lady” floating through the air like honey. Rose petals were scattered across the floor, and champagne sat chilling in a crystal bucket.
“Girl, sit down before you pass out,” Yaslynn said, guiding me to the vanity chair. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I can’t believe he did this,” I whispered, staring at my reflection. My eyes were bright with unshed tears, cheeks flushed with shock and joy.
Rebecca was already hanging the dress Monica had brought, her hands reverent as she smoothed the fabric. “This man really loves you, Co. Like, loves you loves you.”
Monica appeared with a makeup artist and hairstylist, both smiling warmly. “We’re going to keep everything natural,” she explained. “Flowing hair, glowing skin. You’re already beautiful.”
As they worked, my girls filled me in on the conspiracy.
“He called us a week ago,” Rebecca said, perched on the bed. “He said he wanted to give you a wedding. Something intimate and small. He asked about your favorite flowers, your style, everything.”
“Even asked what songs you’d want for your first dance,” Yaslynn added. “I told him you’d cry if he played anything by Maxwell.”
“Y’all been plotting behind my back this whole time?”
“Honey, when a man offers to fly your best friends to an island just to see you smile? You don’t ask questions or be loyal. You say yes and pack cute outfits.”
The makeup artist stepped back, and I looked at myself in the mirror. She’d kept everything soft and natural—just enough to make my features pop without looking overdone. My braids fell in loose waves over one shoulder, and she’d woven tiny white flowers through the strands.
“Now for the dress,” Monica said.
When they slipped it over my head, I understood why Lesley had chosen it.
The chiffon moved like water, the bodice fitted perfectly to my curves before flowing into a romantic A-line skirt.
It was elegant but not fussy, classic but not stuffy.
It was exactly what I would have chosen for myself if I’d ever allowed myself to dream that big.
“Oh my God,” Rebecca breathed. “Co, you look like a princess.”
“A sexy princess,” Yaslynn corrected, making us all laugh.
Monica handed me a bouquet of white roses and baby’s breath, tied with a ribbon that matched the ocean outside. “There’s one more thing,” she said, producing a small velvet box. “Your husband wanted you to have these.”
Inside were pearl earrings—simple, elegant, perfect. The note tucked beneath them was in Lesley’s handwriting:
For my wife. -L
I was crying again, and the makeup artist had to dab away the tears with a tissue.
“Okay, enough tears,” Yaslynn said, fanning my face. “You’re about to get married to the man of your dreams. Save the waterworks for the vows.”
A soft knock interrupted us. “Ladies? It’s time.”
Monica cracked the door, and I could see Legend waiting in the hallway, looking handsome in his black tuxedo.
“You ready, daughter-in-law?” he asked when I stepped out.
The word stopped me. Daughter. It had been a while since anyone called me that.
“I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle,” I said quietly.
He smiled, extending his arm. “You do now. If you’ll have me.”
I took his arm, feeling the weight of family I’d never had before. As we walked toward the beach, I could hear the string quartet playing Etta James’s “At Last.”
The setup was even more beautiful than I’d glimpsed earlier.
Every detail was perfect—from the white runner scattered with rose petals to the archway draped in flowing fabric that framed the sunset.
Our guests were small but perfect: Rebecca and Yaslynn in the front row, Karyn beside them, Monica and Eric, Taiwan and Alicyn, and a few other faces I didn’t recognize, but who were smiling at this beautiful, important moment.
And then I saw him.
Lesley stood at the altar in a black tuxedo that fit him as if it were made for his body. His hair was perfectly lined, gold chain catching the candlelight, and when our eyes met, his face broke into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.
This man had listened to my pain and turned it into joy. Had taken my throwaway comment about having no one and made sure I had everyone who mattered. Had given me the fairy tale I’d stopped believing in.
As Legend placed my hand in Lesley’s, I knew this wasn’t just a wedding. This was the beginning of everything I’d never had before.
A real family. A real home. A genuine love that would last beyond any contract or arrangement.
“You look perfect,” Lesley whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“So do you,” I whispered back.
And as the officiant began to speak, the sun painted the sky in shades of gold and pink, I realized that sometimes the best surprises were the ones that gave you everything you didn’t know you needed.