Wide Spaces (A Wide Awake Novella, Book 2) Page 8

  "You don't need to thank me." I chuckled. "It was completely selfish. I can't imagine living without her. I just…had to find her."

  "And you had to risk your life, huh?" Isabella asked.

  I shrugged, rubbing my neck self-consciously. "I had to."

  I felt Emma's stare on my face and turned to her. She lifted her hand and beckoned me to her. I started to sit in one of the hideous brown chairs, but she shook her head and tugged me to sit on the bed with her. "Right here," she commanded.

  We stared at each other and everyone else fell away. She smiled coyly and toyed with my fingers in her hand as she let me see how happy she was, the long chain and locket hanging from her neck. A yellow scarf and a sparkly headband also lay in her lap.

  If I ever wondered if she really loved me before, that thought was obliterated by the absolute love I saw in her eyes as she looked up at me.

  I answered her smile and she raised it with a grin. A tired grin because she had been through the wringer, but a grin nonetheless. I cupped her cheek. "You need to rest, sweetheart."

  She nodded. "I'm about to fall over. I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. You earned it."

  I went to move away and she gripped my arm tighter. "Please don't go."

  I leaned into her. "Not for the world," I whispered into her ear and then pressed my lips to her forehead while simultaneously pressing the button to make the bed lay flat.

  Her dad glanced over at me and back to her, knowing there was something epic going on, but as much as I liked her dad, he'd never understand. Emma and I had saved each other in more ways than one. The way I loved this girl was epic and it changed the air around us with its sparks. Shakespeare could write a sonnet just for her and it still wouldn't capture all the things I wanted to say.

  "I'll be here when you wake up. Sleep, you."

  She smiled, her eyes closing. "Bye, you."

  I tucked the blanket up to her chin and around her shoulders and sat at the foot of her bed. I pushed the blanket back a little and began to rub her leg for her as she slept. It was that one thing that I felt like I had control over. This had been my job when she was in a coma; it was my job when she was healing, it was my job when she was running from the old her, and it was my job now, to take care of her always. Our parents were deep in conversation, and I was paying them very little attention. I lifted her leg, kissing the top of her foot, before tucking it under the covers and starting on the other one.

  Emma would be making a joke right now about me being a legs man. I chuckled under my breath. That was absolutely true, but this was just one way I knew to show my love for her, to take care of her. It was nothing but an act of service and love, and Emma would have a lifetime of this to look forward to.

  Our parents and I talked for a while. Em's parents enjoyed immensely the stories my mother conjured of our past Christmases. When they agreed to take my mom home, they tried to take me with them. I needed a shower, I needed clean clothes, Isabella could stay—they tried it all.

  I refused, gladly. I promised Em I would stay and I planned to. I wasn't leaving until she could come with me.

  Studies show that 70% of people who marry their best friend stay married their entire lifetime.

  Emma

  I will not postpone.

  I said it a hundred times by the end of that week, at least. Mom was adamant, but I was even more so. I stared out the window at the snow that blanketed the yard. It hadn't stopped all week.

  The snow was still knee-high, making the walk in snow-white heels down the sidewalk more than a challenge, but not a deal-breaker.

  Because of the weather and the damage all around the county, Mom was worried that most of the guests wouldn’t be able to come. She was worried about that. She said, Who has a wedding the week after they get into an accident? Me, that's who. She would roll her eyes, smooth her silk shirt, take a deep breath, and then go again, moving about the house, getting things to her liking for the wedding.

  The church was out. A tree had fallen in the ice storm and smashed a corner of the sanctuary. Mom threw one of her tantrums fit for Scarlett O'Hara herself about that one. I didn't care where we had it. When she saw how adamant I was about the wedding still taking place, she said we'd have it at the house. They put a sign up at the church saying the wedding had been moved here for anyone who missed the message.

  And the little tornado that was my mother got to work, freaking over every little detail and having coronaries every time someone called to say they couldn't come or the caterer tried to talk her out of the crazy things she had wanted and still wanted…in the foyer of their large home. "Ma'am, it's not prudent to have an ice sculpture inside the house in the winter when you'll have the heater and fires going."

  A knock on the door pulled me to look over my shoulder. My slack-jawed father stared until I turned and shrugged. "So is it safe to come down or has the wrath of Isabella Walker just begun?"

  He smirked. "I've got it on good authority that Mason is here. And he's melting your mother's heart as we speak." His smile changed. "It's time. And you look..." He sighed. "You look beautiful, Emma."

  I smiled, smoothing my dress. "Thanks, Dad." I looked him right in the eye. "Is this what you imagined I'd look like on my wedding day?"

  He smiled, coming and putting his hands on the tops of my arms. "Better. I honestly never thought you'd be this happy."

  "Really?" I said, surprised. And a little off-put.

  "I thought you were going to marry Andy," he told me wryly and twisted his lips.

  "So…not all bad came from the coma?" I said in a small voice.

  "Something I've learned is there isn't anything in our life that is for nothing. We aren't just wandering around waiting for time to pass and hoping good things come our way. The things that are handed to us are for a reason." He hugged me to him, placing my head under his chin. "We aren't given more than we can handle." I let that sink in. Mason had said something similar many times. "I thought I'd break in two when we found out about your accident. I thought to myself, how in the world am I going to survive this? But it wasn't me who needed to survive it, it was you. And you're doing a pretty darn good job."

  It was futile to try to stop the tears after that. He held me like that for a while, even though he had said it was time to go.

  I looked out my window over his shoulder and shivered at the snow that whipped around in the daylight. Sighing, I took my white peep-toe pumps, that mom insisted were some designer I'd always wanted to wear on my wedding day, and slipped my feet into them.

  I did the cliché last look as I straightened the veil behind me, glancing toward my strapless dress with a cinched waist. The bandage over the stitches in my head that was covered so nicely with my curled hair that mom had done for me. And it hit me, it did, just like they say it does. I looked at myself, the little diamond earrings that I 'borrowed' from Mom who had worn them on her day, the 'old' platinum bracelet on my wrist that was Grandma's, Mom said the Jimmy Choos we bought constituted as something 'new', and then yesterday morning, when I finally got to come home from the hospital, I found a little bag on my bed with Christmas wrapping. Mason said not to open it until he left that night, so I didn't. When I finally got to, I recognized Mason's scribble on the card.

  I never got to give you your other Christmas present. I hope you like it. I'm not being too presumptuous, am I…Mrs. Wright?

  I opened that bag to reveal the most delicate yet sinful looking baby blue garter belt, lace trimmed, not overdone. There was a small black satin bow in the front that made it feel even that much more sexy. My breath rattled in excitement and I cursed him through a text about teasing me with that.

  Now, I couldn't see it in the mirror as I examined myself, but I knew it was there. Mason had gone back to the car the day the wrecker went to tow my car from the wreckage site. He got most of the things out of my car for me the day I was there, and luckily the tattoo gun had survived. When he came back into my room, I was just comi
ng back from a shower. I stood, brushing my hair, hating that I had to stay another night. He was wearing a half-grinning, half-stunned face. "You got me a custom Danny Fowler machine."

  "Yeah. Is that a good one?" I asked and winced. Maybe I shouldn't have bought it for him. He knew all about them. "I probably should have just given you a gift card or—"

  He was on me before I could finish. His arms wound themselves around me gently and he palmed the small of my back before moving his very warm hands to my behind. He held me against him, supporting me and letting me lean on him. I gasped into his mouth in a way that told him to keep going. It had been days since he had really kissed me. The week before our wedding, no less. I missed him even though he was there every day. I missed him this way.

  That boy put some serious moves on me in that hospital room.

  And now, as I remembered the garter belt on my thigh, I couldn't wait for him to take it off. I looked at myself in that mirror and no longer felt the insecurities and inadequacies that clung to me like before.

  This wasn't the life the old me would have picked or even wanted. But I wanted it. I chose it. It chose me. I would forever be grateful for the way life doesn't turn out like we planned.

  I looked at my father in the mirror and we smiled, knowing it was our cue. I let him lead me to the staircase, seeing all the people down there in my peripheral, knowing Mason was there, but I couldn’t look yet. My heart beat hard but slow. I wasn't scared or nervous. I was really ready to have his last name be mine and cement myself to my new world. This act, this decision, showing everyone he was mine was taking hold of the new me in a way I hadn't been able to do yet. My heart beat just for him in that moment.

  Mom had the huge foyer all decked out with…stuff. Pretty white ribbons were tied around the posts and yellow roses were everywhere. There were no chairs. The people stood on either side, leaving a path for me to go straight to Mason.

  I finally lifted my gaze and was assaulted by his smile. Mason was a smirker, a crooked-smile kind of guy. But this…this was full on, showing his teeth and his soul, everything. I gripped Dad's arm harder so I wouldn't trip down the stairs. When we reached the bottom, I let Mason pull me to him like a magnet.

  He laughed softly as I grabbed the lapel of his jacket and tugged him a step closer. I heard laughter around me, too. I didn't even know who the guests were because I couldn't take my eyes off my Mason. I whispered in a groan, "Mason."

  He leaned close and whispered, his mouth on my ear, "So glad you're as happy to see me as I am you."He took my earlobe, earring and all, into his mouth and sucked before releasing it, but still holding me close as he looked at the preacher in a Let's get on with it motion. My knees actually buckled a little.

  I was happy he was holding me up at that point. His arm and hand were low on the bodice of the back of my dress. Low enough for me to have difficulties concentrating, but not low enough that my father would want to murder him on the foyer's travertine tiles.

  I did as I was told by the preacher, though in honesty, he could have been asking me if I skipped backwards with an alligator skin purse in the light of the harvest moon. Mason held all my attention and I didn't know what I was agreeing to. Even though I wasn't looking at him, my entire being was focused on him. The way he smelled, the warmth that came from the arm around me, the way he kept looking at the side of my face, his sexy, adorable smile still in place.

  As long as I got Mason at the end of this thing, it didn't matter what the preacher was saying.

  When he finally got to the kiss your bride part, I was in a haze. Mason took his time, which made me burn even more for him. He cupped my face with his hands and leaned in. The bandages around his knuckles were still there. I could see them in my peripheral, and I knew the one on his arm was there under his suit, too.

  My hero.

  My skin tingled with anxiousness. He barely touched my lips with his before grinning. "Coconut," he growled happily before taking my mouth like it was rightfully his.

  Because it was.

  The claps and awws and whoops behind me didn't stop me. I clung to his jacket, but didn't need to because his arms held me firmly against him, wrapped around my lower back. The small moan that I felt more than heard over the clapping had me smiling against his lips. I only opened my eyes after he pulled back and put his forehead to mine. He said softly, "You ready?"

  I nodded. "You can't back out now, Mr. Wright."

  His grin grew. "Not a chance."

  He took my hand, turning me and proudly holding it in his. I finally got a look at the people in the room. Lots of people I didn't know, or remember at least, stared at us with smiles. It really didn't matter if I remembered them or not. They were happy for us and that was enough for me.

  He tugged me with him and we moved through the crowd of people to the back of the room, toward the formal dining room. But I sucked in a breath at the boy standing in the back of the room. I squeezed Mason's hand to get his attention. When his grip tightened noticeably, I knew he'd seen his brother as well.

  Milo leaned against the back wall, his hands in his pockets, a pair of boots, clean jeans, and big black coat on. He was still as thin and pale as last time, noticeably strung out, but trying to make the effort. He just looked at us. His face didn't show any emotion as all until Mason started to move that way. Milo stiffened and stood straight. He shook his head like he wanted to say something, but just…couldn't.

  I looked up at my husband's face to find him so torn up. I rubbed his arm and watched as Milo stared, his face changing. I knew he was about to leave because the resolve was settling over his features. I got it. He still loved his brother, of course he did, and he wanted to see his brother married and happy. But he wasn't ready to reconcile.

  I gave him a small smile to convey that I understood. I mouthed, "Thank you."

  He nodded once to me and a ghost of a smile showed up as his gaze switched from me to Mason. Then with his chest rising with a deep breath, he turned to go. I thought Mason might chase after him, but he didn't. And then I wondered if Milo had ruined the reception for me by upsetting Mason, but when I pulled his face to look at me, he looked peaceful.

  "He's going to come around one day," he said quietly. "Isn't he?"

  I nodded. "You did good taking care of him. He wanted to see you happy."

  He smiled. "He saw that for sure." He leaned in to kiss my upturned lips and the claps sounded again. I felt a blush starting to creep up. I'd forgotten everyone could still see us. I wondered if anyone else had seen Milo. I wondered if Milo talked to his mom.

  I wondered how long it would be before we saw him again.

  Diet Coke destroys tooth enamel as much as meth and crack cocaine.

  Mason

  I danced with every person in that room but Emma. They were hell bent on getting their dances in. I danced with Isabella and all the ladies who claimed to be this person or that—an aunt, an acquaintance, a family friend.

  When I danced with Mamma in her wheelchair, she stayed lucid through it and I was happy. I had learned to grab those moments and make them count instead of spending all my time wishing for things that wouldn't come. She smiled and laughed as we danced to Fools Rush In. She sang the words and I felt lighter and lighter, if not more anxious to take my bride away.

  When I looked up and found Emma watching us, a hand on her father's arm, I jolted with anxiety at first because she was crying. But when her eyes drifted to Mamma's, I knew there was nothing to be alarmed about. My wife was just being sentimental.

  My wife.

  And then I had just…had enough. The cake was done, the bouquet had been tossed, and I announced that I was going to dance with my wife and then we were going on our honeymoon.

  The garter belt toss did not take place. Number one, there weren't that many single guys there anyway, and number two, I had bought it for her. Me. And I wanted that little blue scrap of material to be for my eyes only.

  Just knowing it was there under
her dress, like a little secret between her and me, drove me mad ever since I saw her come down the stairs.

  I realized I hadn't even had the chance to tell her how beautiful she was yet. So I thanked Mom for the dance and took her back to her table before setting my eyes on the prize and making my way to her. She laughed at something her dad and his colleague said, but I couldn't help myself as I pressed my lips to the back of her neck in a quick swipe before telling them I was stealing her away.

  She didn't even look back at them, just let me tow her. When we reached the middle of the dining room floor and had it all to ourselves, I was glad that the lights were down, because I had to press her against me, take all of her that I could.

  Our temples rested against each other's and my hand on her lower back pressed her hips to mine. I kissed her cheek and asked, "Are you happy?"

  She didn't lift her head, but I felt her smile against my cheek. "What kind of question is that?"

  "The only one that matters right now."

  "I'm so…" she pressed her lips to the skin under my ear, "incredibly happy."

  "That's good. That's all I want. You know that, right?"

  "That's why I love you so much."

  "I'll never get tired of hearing you say that." I did lean back this time, even as our hips swayed, and I looked at her gorgeous eyes. "I haven't had the chance to tell you how beautiful you look yet. But, Em…you are. Beautiful and then some."

  "Thanks," she whispered. "So are you."

  I smiled. "You mean devilishly handsome."

  She smiled back, but it was sincere. "No. I mean…beautiful. But you aren't in seven-hundred dollar heels that are killing your feet."

  I felt my eyes bulge. "High heels?" She nodded. I lowered my voice. "Let me see." She obliged me, stopping our dance to lift the bottom of her dress just barely, showing me the ankle-view side of her white, sparkly heels. I groaned a little, thinking about that ankle attached to that leg and those heels. I chuckled against her temple.