Chapter 19
CASSIA
The champagne had gone to my head, and every time Memphis spun me around on the dance floor, I lost a little more of my resolve to keep him at a distance.
I had already made the decision to stay in Rojo and become his wife–not just to secure my future with Ivy, but also because there was something about the man that I couldn’t resist.
Every morning when I woke up, the first thing I wanted to see was Ivy’s smiling face, but seeing Memphis came in a very close second.
And now, after watching him interact with friends and family–some of whom I’d met before and others I was introduced to tonight–I knew he was the man I hoped he could be.
The man I’d always dreamed of finding.
My parents had turned my nightmare into a fairy tale, with a family to love me, a home that offered security, and experiences traveling around the world that most people couldn’t even imagine.
When I looked at it from that angle, I didn’t have to admit that some of the places we’d been to were horrible or that many of the things I’d seen had left me with memories that turned into nightmares.
But that was all part of the fairy tale.
Without adversity, a person could never really appreciate success, right?
I preferred to look at it that way, and the idea had taken root when I met Memphis and realized he held my future with Ivy in his hands. But instead of becoming the power-hungry villain in our story, he’d become the hero.
Memphis welcomed not only Ivy into his family, but me and my sisters too, which was far more than most people would have done.
And now he was waiting for me to make a decision that wouldn’t just affect my life but his as well.
He insisted that it would be forever, and the more time I spent with him, the more I knew that was something I wanted too.
One thing I needed to consider was how to proceed from where we were now.
Trust and respect would be the foundation of our marriage, but I wanted the rest of the perks too.
Memphis had joked more than once that marrying him would give me free tune-ups and oil changes for the rest of my life.
But every time I looked at the man, the last thing I was thinking about was my car.
The sight of him revved my engine in the best way.
I knew it sounded cheesy, but it was absolutely true.
I’d dated men over the years whom I found attractive for different reasons–whether it was their brain, their drive, or their physical attributes.
And then I met Memphis, who had all these things wrapped up in one package.
Talking to him was so easy that it was easy to forget that we’d only known each other for a few weeks.
Our conversations always gave me insight into the intelligence he tried to mask with the dumb-musician persona.
The fact that he’d found out about Ivy and decided to pursue fatherhood with a laser focus on the future showed me that his stubbornness wasn’t just moderately annoying at times–it was worthy of my respect all the time.
Memphis’s physical attributes were nothing to sneeze at either.
Every morning, over my first glass of tea, I admired his body and knew that there was nothing sexier in the world than the sound of his voice, raspy with sleep, or the way he ran his hands through his hair to tame it while he waited for the coffee maker to deliver the jolt he needed to start his day.
When he wasn’t awake at his usual time this morning, I jump-started his day by making coffee for him.
When the smell didn’t wake him, I couldn’t resist going into his bedroom to check on him.
The sight of him relaxed in sleep, with only the light from the hallway highlighting the muscles of his bare chest and the angle of his jaw, was enough to make me forget everything I’d worried about since this adventure started and nearly rip off my clothes before I crawled into bed beside him.
And from the look on his face when I’d caught him watching me while he thought I was unaware, I could tell he’d considered that before and wouldn’t complain if he woke up with me naked in his arms.
And now, with just enough champagne coursing through my veins to make me forget all the things I’d been worried about, I decided it was time to tell Memphis I’d made the final decision about our future.
The song we’d been dancing to ended and shifted into one I’d heard before but wasn’t completely familiar with.
It was slower than the ones before it, so it felt perfectly natural to let Memphis pull me closer so I could mold my body to his.
I leaned my head back just enough to look up into his eyes and took a chance I’d been thinking about since the first time I met him.
When our lips touched, I felt a zing of electricity race down my spine.
For a few seconds, it felt like my heart stopped beating before it began to race.
Every nerve ending in my body fired at the touch of his lips.
When he tilted his head to take the kiss even deeper, I forgot we were standing in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by his family and friends.
It felt like we were floating on a cloud with no one else around.
When Memphis pulled away just far enough to look down at me, I was surprised when he started singing softly–just loud enough for only me to hear. I realized he was following the lyrics of the song that was playing, and I was amazed when the words sank in and matched what was happening so perfectly.
It was hard to focus, but I caught the gist, and when Memphis sang, “They’re all watching us now,” I glanced around and realized he was right–but I didn’t care. He ended the verse with, “Kiss me again.”
From the look in his eyes, I could tell Memphis meant the words he was singing.
Without hesitation, I leaned forward and kissed him again, pouring every emotion I felt into the melding of our lips.
When he stopped moving us across the dance floor and leaned me back over his arm to deepen the kiss, I felt secure in his arms and never once worried that I might fall, which said a lot about the trust that had already developed between us.
Memphis slowly lifted me back up, and I was startled by the sound of applause. I looked around in shock, somehow surprised we were still in the middle of a crowd, and not the only two people in the world–because that’s how it had felt during our long, passionate kiss.
“Let’s get out of here,” Memphis suggested, ignoring the crowd that was very obviously watching us.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“Anywhere you want to go.”
◆◆◆
MEMPHIS
I was still reeling at the thought of what I’d been wishing for finally coming true.
I hadn’t known Cassia long, but what I did know about her was more than enough to make me realize she was the woman I wanted in my life–not just for now, but forever.
When I thought about the couples in my family, I knew that with hard work and dedication, we could make a life together.
If we dedicated ourselves to each other, we wouldn’t just have a marriage–we’d have a companion, a lover, and a best friend by our side for the rest of our lives.
That would make our lives wonderful, and it would give Ivy and any other children we brought into our family a solid foundation while they figured out their own paths.
No, the reason I met Cassia wasn’t ideal, but we both agreed we wouldn’t change it because it brought us here. I understood that through her grief she had relied on Ivy as her last connection to her brother and didn’t want to lose that–no matter what the test I'd taken reported.
I understood that, though not in the same way.
My brother had done something that could have turned out horribly, but thankfully no one was hurt too badly, and he was taking steps to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.
Since I wasn’t able to talk to him as often as I’d like, I found myself telling Ivy, Cassia, and her sisters stories about Harley–reminding myself of the good times we’d had and holding on to hope for more in the future.
Unfortunately, Cassia didn’t have that same hope for her brother, but she’d opened up about memories with him and funny stories about things they’d done together.
Just last night, after talking about him over dinner, she admitted she felt lighter every time we talked about him and that she knew in her heart he’d approve of me being in Ivy’s life–both as someone helping raise her and in my developing relationship with Cassia.
“What are you thinking about?” Cassia asked as she held my hand and walked beside me out into the not-quite-quiet but much calmer, night.
Without thinking, I led her back to the platform where Bella and Matteo had exchanged their vows.
I sat on the edge and brushed my hand over the wood beside me so she’d have a clean place to sit. “You seem very serious.”
“I’m thinking about our future.”
“I’ve been doing that a lot myself.”
“From the kiss we shared in there, I assume you’ve made your decision.”
“I have.”
“Did you make it only for Ivy’s benefit?”
Cassia didn’t answer for at least a minute–which felt like a year–before she said, “No. Obviously, it’s to secure my future with Ivy, and at first that’s all it was.”
“And now?”
“Now I am not afraid to admit that every time we talk, I learn something new about you, and so far it’s almost always been something I like.”
“Almost always?”
“You, sir, can be annoying as hell–even when you’re not trying to be,” she said primly.
“And you’re just plain weird all the time, so I guess it balances out.”
“If you’d try it, you might like it!” Cassia insisted, referring to the breakfast drink I’d watched her make with her sisters that morning.
She laughed before adding, “I’m all in with this marriage pact we’ve been planning, and since you seem to be, too, I’ve got the next fifty years or so to convince you. ”
“Not gonna happen, sweetheart.”
“Oh, there’s one of those annoying things!”
“What?”
“Sweetheart,” Cassia said, mimicking my Texas drawl.
“What’s wrong with that? It’s a term of endearment.
She laughed, but it wasn’t really joyful–it was borderline unhinged.
I understood when she explained, “If you said, ‘You’re my sweetheart,’ that would be wonderful.
If you said, ‘You’re a sweetheart,’ that would be a nice compliment.
Even using the word at Valentine’s to ask, ‘Will you be my sweetheart?’ is adorable.
But when you end a condescending sentence with it, it doesn’t have the same connotation and is actually downright insulting. Sweetheart.”
I cackled, and Cassia glared at me, although I could tell she was trying not to smile. I finally said, “My Papa Smokey says something like that to Gamma, and now that I think about it, most of my uncles use the word too.”
“‘Sweetheart?’”
“No. Woman.”
“Oh, really?” Cassia asked, clearly unimpressed.
“Woman! Don’t you dare lift that! Let me carry it!” I repeated, still chuckling. “Now, listen here, woman.”
“Oh, hell no. I can’t see Martha putting up with that.”
“It’s a running joke between them. She usually fires back with man in the same tone of voice, just to prove her point–kind of like you did when you said ‘sweetheart’ and tilted your head all wonky while your face puckered up in disgust.”
“Wonky?”
“Tilt your head again,” I ordered.
Cassia did as I asked, and I leaned forward and kissed her just like before. This time, instead of dipping her back, we ended up lying on the platform, kissing until we were both panting and breathless. When I finally came up for air, I asked, “Are you going to marry me, Cassia?”
She gave me a sly smile. “The answer to that hinges on one last thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you think ’clitoris’ is a remote island somewhere far away?”
“What?”
“That wasn’t a promising answer. Next question. Do you think G-spot is the name of a mysterious rap star who may or may not exist?”
“You’re kidding me right now.”
“No, sweetheart, I’m not.”
“Listen here, woman. I’m going to take you home and explore the island of clitoris with my tongue before I use my cock to hit your G-spot until you’re the one rapping my name in rhythm with my hips.”
“Sounds promising, but you know how musicians are. They’re not dependable at all. And besides, with technology these days, they rely on auto-tune and don’t even really have rhythm.”
“I’m going to take that as a personal challenge.”
Cassia was smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Please do.”