Chapter 44
Max
The nightmares in my dreams haunt me. The click of the gun, the vicious look on Carlos’s face.
Leo’s body lying in a pool of blood. It crushes me to think I could have lost Sol.
The twins. Leo didn’t think twice. He saved them.
A part of me feels guilty for thanking him for taking the bullet.
Now he’s gone. He’s not sitting in his office chair with his legs up, waiting for me to enter.
He’s not chasing after me, wanting the scoop on the fights.
He won’t pester me like a younger brother does.
The absence sits heavily in my chest. Leo hid his dark moments with a smile.
Since I met him, he had suffered from depression.
I thought if I offered him a job, and gave him a home, it would help him.
It didn’t. He was hurting. I hope he found peace, and the emptiness in his heart is filled.
I promised him he’d be my best man. Although I intended to have all of them be my best men, one is missing.
“Are you ready?” my dad asks, waiting for me while I adjust my white dress shirt.
I’ve been ready to marry Sol all my life. “More than,” I answer him.
“Then let’s get the show on the road.” Dad claps Drake on the shoulder.
My dad took Leo’s death as hard as we did. Leo grew on him like he did on all of us. Drake and Xander have been training with him. He’s gotten close to them and also made a new friend. Xander brought his dad over, and my dad and his dad hit it off. I think they even planned a fishing trip.
We arrive first at the chapel. Some of our guests have already arrived.
“Sol isn’t here yet,” Drake states the obvious. “She probably got cold feet.”
I glare at him. “She would not.”
“What if she did?” His lips curl.
I swear this man lives to see me unhinged, only because he is.
“Then I’d drag her ass to the altar.”
“Good answer.” Drake twists his gaze toward Xander. “What would you do, X?”
Xander gives us a mischievous smirk. “I’d force her hand in marriage.”
I lean my head back on the seat and raise a brow at Drake. “What about you? Do you plan on marrying?”
“I don’t plan on it. But let’s say I found a woman I wanted to marry. I’d call the priest to the house and ask him to bind the marriage while I thrust in her.”
My head juts up.
“I’ll be balls deep inside her, so when the priest says, ‘Do you take Drake as your husband?’ she’ll be about to orgasm and scream, ‘Yes!’ Her scream validates the marriage.”
“Damn,” Xander says.
“Take notes, boys,” Drake muses.
My dad and I bust out laughing.
“You men are menaces,” Pops says, grinning.
Once the couple before us is done, the guys and I walk into the chapel.
Justin gives me a hand signal, letting us know that the girls have arrived.
Lana and Bethany rode along with Sol. Bethany didn’t have the money to fly down, and Sol had mentioned she didn’t want her father’s money.
I wanted to surprise Sol and fly Bethany home.
My dad and I stayed at Sol’s old place last night to give the girls their space.
My dad is going to be moving into Sol’s old place once we feel he’s ready.
When the twins arrive, I’m hoping it will give him that drive to stay clean.
When I would see grooms in movies and even in real-life videos, I’d always wonder why they cried. If you’ve been in a relationship with her for so long, the only thing that changes is her name. I would say, “What a bunch of dumbasses,” years ago.
From the corner of the room, piano notes float through the air as a woman in a cream-colored dress coaxes them from ivory keys.
Justin waits at the entrance, ready to walk my bride down the aisle.
The room falls silent except for a few caught breaths, and suddenly there’s only Sol, standing at the altar, the rest of the world blurring at the edges as my chest tightens and flutters.
In my dreams, I pictured her walking down the aisle, never pregnant.
This is just the icing on the cake. She’s a breath of fresh air.
Now my heart is in my throat, swallowing those emotions I never thought I’d feel. It would be fitting to say she changed me, but Sol has always accepted me for who I am. I tore down my walls for her to see and carved my way into her heart, molding myself into the man I knew I needed to become.
The white wedding dress, a cascade of silk and delicate lace, forms into her body like a second skin, accentuating the gentle curve of her waist before flowing outward at her hips.
My breath catches in my throat as she nears, her steps measured against the quiet swell of the piano.
My gaze drops to her feet, making sure she’s not wearing heels, as it will only make her feet ache more than they already do.
She’s wearing white sneakers. My lips curl, and along with it, a tear slips.
She catches it with her thumb. “Got it.” She smiles, with her own tears running down.
I mirror her gesture, brushing away the wetness on her cheeks with my thumb, then moving closer until our foreheads nearly touch. “You look beautiful. The most stunning bride.”
The priest begins with a rushed entrance. I don’t mind. I just want her to be my wife already. Legally.
“I do,” I say after I voice my vows written for her. My gaze never leaves hers when I slip the ring on her soft skin.
She gives me the softest, kindest smile. “I do,” she says, then slips my ring on. Sol whispers, “I pinky promise,” and loops her finger in mine.
Drake is the first to catch it. He laughs beside me. He must remember me rushing to him, telling him I pinky promised to marry her. He shook his head and said, “You got yourself into a mess, kiddo.”
A beautiful mess I wouldn’t trade for anything.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the b—” he starts.
My hand slips up her neck, pulling her to me, and our lips lock into a promising kiss before he can finish. I lick the seam of her plump lips, then swirl my tongue in her mouth, devouring Sol as my wife for the first time.
My wife.
The small crowd of family and friends cheer and congratulate us.
Opening the car door for her, I lean in to whisper in her ear. Her skin blooms with goosebumps as my breath licks her neck. “Get in the car, wife.”
Our honeymoon, for now, is not a getaway trip, as Sol is so close and uncomfortable all the time.
It wouldn’t be a good idea. I wanted to do something that didn’t require travel, a staycation.
I guess that’s what they call it. “Wow, Max…” She spins side to side, taking it all in.
“It’s two stories…so luxurious.” Casinos have extravagant penthouses for about five grand a night.
I’ll admit, I’m impressed. The penthouse has floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the glittering city skyline like a living painting.
A plush leather white sectional is scattered with jewel-toned pillows that catch the afternoon light.
Adjacent stands a dining table of polished walnut that could seat twelve, its surface reflecting the crystal chandelier above.
Behind us, a sleek marble-topped bar gleams with bottles of amber and clear spirits.
Down a marble hall lie three rooms. The first is a game room: a sectional faces a screen that takes up most of the wall, and a pool table sits centered under a low-hanging light.
The second room holds a massage table dressed in white linen, a jetted spa sunk into the floor, and a treadmill pushed against the far window.
The third opens into a kitchen—wide and bright, every appliance flush and stainless, the pantry stocked floor to ceiling.
“Oh my gosh,” Sol whispers. “A massage sounds good right now.”
“Then it will be first on the list.”
Her head bobs in disbelief at the sheer scale of the place, and we haven’t even seen the second floor. Our footsteps echo as we ascend.
“This is crazy,” I say, taking in the view of the bedroom, the sprawling king-size bed heaped with plump pillows, the vanity that catches light like diamonds, the elegant sofa positioned nearby, with an adjoining vast bathroom with another spa-like tub.
The other bedroom is identical to the one we walked into.
Sol lies on the bed, taking a long breath. “Why are hotel beds so soft?”
I lie beside her. “It is soft. The ones I’ve stayed at were cheap hotels that were as hard as a rock and were probably pissed on several times.”
Sol gives me a soft smile, staring up at the ceiling.
I wonder if she’s thinking of all those times she stayed at luxury hotels with her adoptive parents.
“I’ve never stayed in an expensive penthouse that’s five thousand a night, that’s for sure.
Thank you, Max.” She leans in to kiss me on the lips. “Especially with my husband.”
Just the sound of her calling me her husband makes me hard as fuck.
My gaze licks over every curve of her body.
I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t say my wife’s breasts look and feel amazing while she’s pregnant.
She’s always had great tits, but pregnant—an entirely different category.
I pull the fabric to the side, and with ease, her breast pops out.
The pad of my thumb brushes along her pebbled nipples.
“You’re welcome…wife. We have a whole week to ourselves.
I intended to have you in every area of this place. ”
Since Leo’s passing, we haven’t been intimate. Losing my best friend was the hardest thing I’ve been through in a very long time.
Sol moans as my teeth nip at her swollen nipples.
“You seem uncomfortable with all those clothes on. Let me help you out of it.”
She smiles up at me. “Mmm, you would like that, wouldn’t you? But you’re in luck because at this moment I hate clothes.” She leans to the side so I can unzip it.
“No underwear?” I raise a brow at her.
“God, no. This week is going to be great because I’m not wearing clothes. It’s gotten to a point in my pregnancy where clothes are uncomfortable. Just giving you a warning.”
“I don’t mind at all. I’ll definitely enjoy the view.” My fingers brush between her already parted thighs. “Have I told you that pregnancy looks good on you?” She struggles to put on underwear, socks, and pants. I’m always happy to help her.
Small, breathy sounds escape at the pressure of my fingers curling in her. “Yes…every day.”
“I’ll keep reminding you, tesoro.” She’s had days when she doesn’t feel beautiful. I remind her it’s temporary, and regardless, she’s beautiful to me.
I press my mouth against her inner thigh, dragging my tongue upward until I reach her core.
I lick a slow, deliberate stroke through her folds, feeling her hips buck against my face.
I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, flicking it in quick, tight strokes, then pulling it between my lips and sucking gently.
Her thighs clench around my head, her fingers dig into my hair, and the slick heat of her arousal spreads against my chin.
Then I slide two fingers back inside her, curling them.
She arches and cries of pleasure fill the room.
I keep going until her breathing turns ragged and her hips are grinding against my face in a steady, desperate rhythm, her body flushed and trembling and slippery with want.
Pulling back, I yank the buttons off my shirt in a rush.
I shove my jeans and boxers down together, stepping out of them and kicking them aside so they land in a heap next to her wedding dress.
I gently bring my wife forward to the edge of the bed.
I’ve been inside Sol countless times, and today should be no different, but it is.
It’s a beginning of something new. I always knew I’d have her as my forever, and I know she’s always felt the same.
A beginning to truths. No more lies. No more secrets.
She’s Sol. My Sol. My wife. A slow, breathless moan escapes her with just the tip inside her.
She’s always been a sunshine illuminating my soul.
It might sound cheesy, and some might not understand that I needed the light even if it was only an ounce of it.
Something was better than living in a world where only darkness presented itself.
“Max, oh god, Max.” Her cries fill the room.
I don’t want to harm her…them. I thrust slowly, painfully slow. Damn, I just want to screw her hard until she’s a beautiful mess.
“Go faster, Max.” She grits her teeth.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re not, dammit,” she moans. “Deeper.”
“Fuck.” I pick up speed.
“Harder,” she orders, the word dissolving into a raw moan that echoes off the bedroom walls. Her fingers claw the comforter. Something about the pregnancy has unleashed this new boldness in her—mouthy. A change I welcome.
I drive into her again and again, the slick heat of her pulling me in, gripping me like a fist. The wet sound of it fills the room. Sweat drips from my jaw onto her thighs.
Then she clamps around me, a sudden, clenching pulse, my wife’s whole body seizing as she comes, thighs squeezing my hips, heels digging into the small of my back.
My jaw clenches, and that’s all it takes to bury myself deep into her, shuddering, pouring into her in long, throbbing pulses.
The mattress dips as I settle beside her, both of us catching our breath. “I love you,” I whisper, tracing the curve of her cheekbone with the back of my fingers.
“I love you more.” She yawns, rearranging herself until she finds a comfortable position.
“Take a nap. I’ll have them bring dinner up when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll watch TV.” She hardly sleeps now. I find her awake at all hours of the night.
“Are you sure? It is our wedding night.”
“Positive. The night’s not over. We have all week here.”
Sol settles on my chest where she belongs and drifts off as I give her a back massage.
The strands of her hair thread through my fingers. I crack a smile when her stomach moves in waves. Lying the palm of my hand on her, the twins kick and fuss. “Hey, my little soccer players, it’s your dad. Let your mama sleep a little longer.” It’s as if their hands are against mine.
It’s crazy to think that the home I built was just echoes of my footsteps and loneliness.
When I first bought it, I imagined kids running around.
Soon, these walls that have known only silence will hold a symphony of tiny wails and giggles.
After everything we’ve been through, it feels surreal—just weeks away from the calm after our storm.