LUCI (The Naughty Ones Book 2) (101 page)

“Just the veil now,” Angela said as I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. The dress I’d chosen was a little less glamorous than I’d imagined as a child, but it seemed fitting for this small ceremony. It was a mermaid style that hugged my hips and then fell into a gentle bell of lace. It was a little tight around my middle. Maybe it was my imagination, but I was pretty sure I was beginning to show already, even though I was only eleven weeks along.

Angela lifted the veil and set it on the top of my head, careful not to disturb the French knot the stylist had put it in just an hour ago. It was my mother’s veil that Agnes had dug out of a bin in the attic of my dad’s house. It was all I had of my mother on this day, and the sight of it flowing from my head over my shoulders made tears well up in my eyes.

“You look so much like her.”

I turned and smiled at my dad as Agnes rolled him into the room in his wheelchair. He’d deteriorated quickly over the last few months, so weak that he used the wheelchair to get around. But there was still a lot of life in his eyes.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

I went to him and kissed his cheek, happy to feel the warmth in his thin body. He took my hands and held them tightly for a moment.

“She would be so proud of you.”

And that broke the control. I started to cry, the tears as big and heavy as my heart as they rolled down my cheeks. I knelt in front of him and lay my head on his knee, struggling to keep from falling completely apart.

We’d planned this wedding in a hurry, unsure how much longer my father had. But it was very important to me that he be at my wedding, and when he told me that he’d promised my mom, I couldn’t let him go without giving him the opportunity to fulfill that promise. For days after I learned about my dad’s health issues, I thought about it, thought about everything that had happened in the weeks prior, everything that happened seven years ago. And I decided that it was my turn to make a decision and make things happen.

I proposed to Grant.

He was in his office—almost a month after he bought out the company, turned my life upside down, and I learned the truth about my dad—sitting behind his desk, reading e-mails.

“This is going to sound insane,” I said as I slipped through his door and closed it quietly behind me to keep Rebecca on the other side.

He looked up, one of those smiles on his face that said he was hoping I was talking about some sexual thing.

“We’re at the office, darling,” he said with a little bit of the Texas drawl he rarely revealed.

“Yes, well, if I don’t say it now, I might not say it at all. So, here goes…”

I walked around his desk—a new, elegant cherry-wood desk that replaced the one my father worked at for thirty years—and perched on the front edge. My hands in my lap, I twisted my fingers together and stared at them like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Grant waited a few moments, then lay his hand on top of mine.

“What’s going on, Addison?”

“I love you,” I said in a low but strong voice, saying it aloud for the first time since he’d come back into my life. “You love me. We’re living together now and we’re happy.”

“We are,” he said, rolling his chair so that he was sitting almost in front of me, his hands sliding over my knees. “Let’s not do anything to ruin it.”

“I’m hoping that I’m not doing that. It’s just…I don’t want you to agree to this if it’s too fast or if you think I’m doing it for the wrong reasons, because I’m afraid I might be doing it for the wrong reasons, even though I know I love you and we almost did this once before and I don’t think it would ruin things—”

“You’re rambling, Addison.” He stood up, towering over me, a concerned look on his face. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I took his hands and pulled them to my chest. And then I took a deep breath and looked up at him, tears already forming in my eyes so that I was looking at him from underwater.

“Will you marry me?”

He stared at me for a long minute, his eyes wide with emotions that I couldn’t quite catch. I thought I saw surprise and joy and affection. But I also thought I saw fear, and that frightened me.

“Grant…”

He pulled away, tugging at my hand to make me let go, and yanked open a drawer on the other side of his desk. When he came back, he knelt in front of me and held open a small jeweler’s box.

“Marry me,” he said.

I gasped, my hands shaking so hard I couldn’t have picked up the beautiful, diamond solitaire in that little box. He stood and pulled it out himself, sliding it onto my finger.

“I’ve had that ring for a long time.”

I half nodded as he grasped my chin and lifted it. He kissed me gently, then a little harder.

“We’ll tell people I proposed, okay?”

We found out about the baby two weeks later.

My dad ran his hand down my bare back, his touch light and affectionate.

“You’re a beautiful bride, Addison, just like your mother was.”

I sat back on my heels and looked at him. “Was she beautiful? I can hardly remember what she looked like anymore.”

“She was beautiful. Auburn hair, just like yours. Green eyes like yours. The only difference is you got my nose, my love.”

I smiled, the tears still rolling slowly down my cheeks and over the end of my jaw. “You loved her.”

“Very much.” His eyes filled with sadness, but there was a bright smile on his lips. “She was my whole world before you were born. Did I ever tell you that her father threatened to disown her if she married me?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“He did. Told her I was street trash who would pull her down into the gutter with me.” He touched my cheek lightly, wiping away a tear. “But he was wrong, just like I was wrong about Grant.”

I pressed my hand against his, pushing it tighter against my face. “He’s a good man, Daddy.”

“I’m counting on that. I need to believe you’re well taken care of.”

“I am.” I pulled myself to my feet again and bent low to kiss his cheek. “There’s something else you should probably know,” I said against his ear. “You’re going to be a grandpa.”

I stood up and watched the joy bloom on his face. He held out his hands and pulled me back down to him, at a loss for words. And that spoke volumes.

Agnes tapped on the door and stuck her head in—I hadn’t even realized that she and Angela had left us alone—to let us know it was time.

“Perfect timing,” my dad announced. “I couldn’t think of a better note to end this on.”

I kissed him again. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too.”

Agnes pushed him back out into the lobby of the Catholic church where Grant was waiting for us at the end of the aisle. I followed and Angela came over, a makeup wipe in her hand to clean the mess I’d made of my makeup. And then she just smiled.

“It’s a happy day.”

I nodded.

We heard the music begin to play. The ushers opened the double doors that separated the lobby from the nave of the church. Angela started down the aisle, a big smile on her face when she spotted Kevin waiting for her halfway down. Agnes came around me and straightened the narrow train of my dress. Then she squeezed my arms.

“Congratulations,” she whispered before she moved around me and took her seat inside.

“I guess it’s our turn now,” my dad said.

“It is.”

I hadn’t been one hundred percent sure how we were going to handle this. But I should have known my dad would have it all worked out. One of the ushers moved behind him and began pushing him as he grabbed my hand. It wasn’t traditional. But it was the proudest, happiest moment of my life.

Grant moved into place as we began walking toward him. Our eyes met across the nearly empty nave, and I knew this was the right thing to do. This was where we’d always been heading. We’d been derailed seven years ago, but we were back on track now.

We stopped at the head of the aisle and the priest came down to greet us.

“Who gives this woman to this man?” he asked.

“I do,” my father said in a clear, honored voice.

Tears were flowing again as I bent low and kissed him again.

“Thank you,” he whispered, choking up himself. And then he reached for Grant’s hand, placing it on mine. “Take care of her.”

“I will,” Grant said in the most solemn tone I’d ever heard come from his lips.

I cried during the entire service. It was a traditional wedding, complete with a double rosary as my parents had had at their wedding twenty-seven years ago. Grant was so kind, so patient, as I cried my way through my vows and slid his ring on his finger with shaking hands. And then? And then he was mine for better or for worse.

What more could I ask?

We walked into the luxurious room, an old-fashioned bellboy leading the way. It was a lovely resort in the Bahamas, but all I could think about was how far we were from my dad. Grant offered the bellboy a tip and watched him leave the room.

He came over to me and pushed me up against the door, his hand on my hip as he braced himself with the other. “Hello, Mrs. McGraw,” he said, his lips so close to my ear that the heat of his breath tickled.

“Mr. McGraw,” I said.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off of you all day.”

“Yeah?”

“You looked amazing in that dress.”

“Oh, that little thing?”

“And this,” he said, running his hand from my hip to my upper thigh, tugging at the skirt of my traveling suit, “does amazing things to my control.”

“Does?”

“Makes me want to tear it off of you and ravish you without thought of where we are.”

“Ravish? Do people actually use that word anymore?”

“It’s the only word that fits the desperation of what I want to do to you.”

“Do you often have thoughts like that about innocent pregnant women?”

“If you were so innocent, you wouldn’t be so pregnant.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

He kissed me then, his lips cool from the night air. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him lift me up, pulling me up along the length of his body as he trapped me there between him and the solid door. I kicked off my shoes and wrapped my legs around him, my skirt hitching itself up over my thighs as I did. His hand slid under my skirt, his palm warm on my bare ass. He pulled back and looked at me when he realized just how bare my ass was.

“What’s this? Have you been like this all day?”

“I forgot my thong, and panties with this skirt would have been tacky.”

His eyebrows rose. “Is that so? Well, here’s to fashion correctness.”

He came back to my lips, his fingers moving over my ass to find the secret places that ached for his touch. I moaned as his fingers found moisture, as he discovered just how desperately I’d been needing this moment. Even as his fingers began to do interesting things to me, his mouth moved from mine, sliding over my throat, searching for a way under the thin sweater I was wearing. I hadn’t forgotten to pack a bra, so he had layers of clothing to fight through there. But my hardened nipples took away a little of the mystery, giving him a clear indication of where to bite down with his gentle nibble.

I ran my fingers through his hair as the day slowly began to fall away, the happiness tempered by profound sadness. The reception was small—just us, the wedding party, and a few close friends. Maybe twenty of us all together. We had lunch at a local restaurant and lingered, talking long into the evening. It was different, but nice. Watching my father, so animated as he told stories about my childhood to anyone and everyone who would listen, was beyond words. I didn’t want to leave.

But this…the day was becoming something like a dream, and this was reality. This was my life.

My man.

I tugged at his hair, pulled him back up to me. I touched his face, cradled his jaw in my palm.

“I love you.”

He groaned, his mouth sliding over mine again. He pulled me away from the door and carried me to the bedroom, our bodies falling in a heap on the bed. We were tangled together, but we seemed to fit together nicely. I pulled his shirt, until he sat up enough for me to slip it over his head. I pressed my mouth to his throat, wanting to taste him, be enveloped in everything about him. And he pulled my sweater over my head, his fingers fumbling as they worked the clasp at the center of my bra. I finally had to do it for him. When I started to make a joke about his clumsy fingers, I got his eye and saw emotion intensified and I almost couldn’t catch my breath.

There was nothing funny about this.

His pants somehow found their way to the floor, my skirt disappearing. I guided him to me, so anxious to feel him inside that I couldn’t wait for him to do it himself. He groaned at the sight of me, at my touch—always groaning like he couldn’t get enough.

We rocked and it was both like all the times before and like we’d never touched at all. We clung to each other, rocking to satisfy the physical needs, touching to satisfy the emotional needs. My heart was so full, but I still felt like I couldn’t get close enough, that I couldn’t hold on tight enough.