Chapter 42
Chuck: Now this is something different, a wedding reception that’s all smiles and no drama.
Lou: Yeah, it’s like the happily-ever-after has finally arrived without all the usual explosions.
Chuck: They’re all together, and the vibe’s warm. It’s almost…peaceful.
Lou: Almost. It feels like the calm after a long storm.
Chuck: And sometimes, that calm is the real victory.
“There is absolutely no way I can fit into this dress,” Paloma bellows from our bedroom. “Fuuuuck me,” she groans.
“Your wish is my command, Dove,” I tease. Rising from the couch, I make my way to help her into the dress for her dad’s engagement party.
“You are such an ass.” She giggles. “Help zip me up.”
The dress she has on is deep orange. The satin melts into her supple form, making her skin look like fucking sunshine, and I want to singe my tongue against every bit of her heat. My eyes drink her in as I stand behind her running my fingers up her back while I pull the zipper up.
Her gaze is locked on me, and I lick my lips, dipping my head to kiss up the curve of her spine.
I don't let the end of the zipper stop me—I continue and bite softly up the column of her neck, I pull her earlobe between my teeth and lightly suck before releasing it.
Pressing myself to the length of her, I relish in how her soft curves feel when she shivers from my touch.
“If we don't get out of this house soon, we won't ever leave, and I'll make a mess of you,” I whisper in her ear as I slide the thin strap of her dress off her shoulder, smoothing my hand around her body to rest at her soft lower belly.
I squeeze her pooch I love so much. I want to sink my teeth and dick into her and never leave. Fuck. “We need to go.”
“We could make time. I like being made a mess of.” She gives me a devilish grin as her hand rubs up and down my thigh, warming me fuller, and my dick jumps at the feel.
“Come on, Dove. I promise to ravage you once we make it back home.” Though I have other plans, which I haven’t let on to yet. Surprising her has become my favorite thing to do.
“Whatever you say, Golf Daddy.” I slap her ass as she walks away and groan as her hips sway further from me. She slides on a pair of strappy green heels and I bite at my lip to stop myself from ruining her dress.
We exit our hotel room, and I make sure to slide the concierge our room keys. Having settled our payment earlier, he gives me a nod, and I slide my hand to the small of Paloma’s back.
“Is it weird to be nervous?” she asks me on the short ride to her dad’s engagement party.
“Why are you nervous, Dove?” I question. I know she already has the answer and is really just looking for a sounding board rather than a solution.
“I know they were at our wedding, and it was lovely to meet my dad’s soon-to-be wife, but it still feels like I don’t belong, having been estranged for so many years.
” When the car comes to a stop at a red light, my gaze shifts to her.
Her eyes are downcast, staring a hole into the floor, and I tilt her chin up to me.
Gliding my hand over her cheek and through her hair, I grip the back of her neck. She has yet to look at me. “Dove, I need you to look at me.” She takes a few seconds, but when she finally does, there are no tears, but I can see the worry behind her eyes.
“My dad and I have been texting more, but it still feels so raw. So—” She rubs her chest, but no more words come from her.
“And it will be, baby. It will feel raw because wounds take time to heal.
Even after a mended bone has healed there are times where it's sore and hurting. Give you and your dad time to heal this twenty-year-wound. I promise you one day the pain will be a distant memory, and your relationship with your father will be as easy as breathing.”
She shakes her head before she responds, “I don’t want to feel like an abandoned child anymore. I don’t want to think of the possibility that one day, he will leave again and then I will be left to pick up the pieces alone.”
“You won’t be alone.” Instinctively, I run my hand down her satin-covered thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze.
“I will be right here with you, so will your best friends, and your mom. We aren’t going to let you do this alone.
I need to ask you something, and I want you to answer truthfully, based on your needs and not anyone else's. Okay?”
“I can do that.” Her voice is soft as she replies, her face taking on a more serious look.
“Do you want to turn around? Because we don’t have to go. We can let them know something came up and still send a gift.”
The red light has come and gone a couple times now, but no one else seems to be on the road, and I’m not moving this car unless I have to.
She thinks about my question for a moment before she finally answers, “No. I want to celebrate them. Taking this step means getting closer to mending that broken bone, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does, Dove.” I don’t tell her, but I’m so fucking proud of her. I would have been proud of her even if I was turning this car around instead, because it would’ve meant she was taking care of herself..
We pull into a brick-paved driveway leading up to a beautiful pastel yellow house. There are arches framing the front porch, making it feel both grand and welcoming. The second-story deck draws my eyes up as I take in the large family home.
“I’ve never seen their home,” Paloma says.
“It’s beautiful.” I nod my head, handing the keys to the valet.
By the time we make it inside to the engagement party, dancing is already underway.
The future groom and his lady are on the dance floor enjoying the music.
I watch Paloma take in the scene in front of us and breathe a sigh of relief as her face beams with a beautiful smile, one that stretches across her face and crinkles her eyes.
Her dad must have noticed our entrance because he kisses his fiancée’s cheek and then grabs her hand.
When Paloma’s soon-to-be stepmom’s eyes focus on us, her wide smile softens.
I’m so glad Paloma decided to come, to continue to mend this relationship with her father.
And if he hurts her, then maybe I end up in jail for a night or two.
I internally shrug my shoulders at the thought, not caring how it sounds.
“Mija, I’m so glad you’re here!” Paloma’s father shouts with joy over the music before pulling her into a hug. ”You look so beautiful.”
“I’m glad I’m here too, Papi. You both look incredible.”
His bride inches closer to Paloma, and I can tell she is still just as nervous as Paloma seems to be. My Dove seems to notice, and she turns and grabs both of Camila’s hands with her own. “You look stunning.”
Camila responds, “Thank you for coming tonight. Do you want me to grab you a plate of food or something to drink?”
“Absolutely not! Not in that dress. No, we can manage on our own. You two go finish dancing and enjoy your night. We will be here for a while.”
“And we plan to join you both on the dance floor soon,” I pipe in, as Paloma settles in next to me.
They spared no expense when it came to their engagement party; it's lavish and plays on the Spanish architecture of the home.
On one side of the room is seasoned yellow rice and meats, sweet maduros, and salads overflowing on the tables.
From the looks of it, more food is still being brought out from the kitchen.
For what looks like roughly two hundred people here, it makes sense.
Paloma and I grab a couple plates, and I let her load both of them up with whatever her heart desires. Is it weird to be giddy at her explaining everything to me? Hell, the only reason I know how to say maduros in the first place is because of her.
“What are these?” I ask her.
“They’re tostones, made from plantains. Like maduros, but before they’re ripe and sweet. They’re fried, smashed, and then fried again. Trust me. These, with a little bit of this sauce, you’ll be in heaven.” She pours a little sauce over the top of them, and my mouth waters.
Once we sit, I watch as she pairs up perfect bites and holds the food up to my mouth, inching her hand closer.
Letting this woman feed me is sexy as hell, and so I open my mouth, allowing her to introduce me to this new cuisine.
The flavor is sweet, and a warm heat from all the spices bursts on my tongue.
Before I get a moment to ask what it is, she says, “Try this,” and gives me another bite of glorious seasoned pork.
Between the curated bites she feeds me and the ones she is taking herself, our plates are cleaned off, both of us having our fill. The dance floor is calling her name by the look in her eyes. I have no idea what the lyrics to this song are, but it feels like a love song.
We make our way to the dance floor, her dad somewhere around with his soon-to-be bride. Paloma sways in my arms, and everything leading up to this moment feels right. How it was always supposed to be.
What I do know is I love Paloma with all of my being.
I skim my hands down her body, enjoying the feel of the fabric beneath my palms, reminding me this satin dress is going to look so much better crumpled in the corner of the beach house I got for us after she mentioned it during a call months ago.
Paloma looks up at me with a soft smile. “What are you thinking about, husband?”
“You. Always you.”
“Always us.”