Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
He threw his head back and groaned as I did my best to nail just the right spot. “Not going to last,” I gritted through tight teeth. I wanted this feeling to last forever.
I held on to him as I continued to thrust in and out of his body, cementing the bond we’d forged and declaring him mine in every way.
“Grant!” he cried before his body locked down for a split second, and the sound of his hitched breaths accompanied his body’s warm release between us.
I finally let go and felt my own release, charging hard and fast up my spine and all the way through my fingers and toes, and as I came, my mind locked on the idea I would get to have this again, and again, and again, until death did us part.
When I finally began to catch my breath, I grinned down at him and found him smiling up at me the same way, like mirror images. Like two halves of a whole that had improbably, incredibly, through pain and loss and uncertainty, found their way to one another.
“You look like you won the lottery,” he teased, running long fingers through my messy hair.
“I think we both did,” I agreed, kissing him softly. “And tomorrow, I’m going to send Dean Larson a lovely bouquet of flowers to thank her.”
Because never in a million years could I have imagined that a marriage of convenience might be the best thing that ever happened to me…
But it absolutely was.
EPILOGUE 2
BRODY
“Mattie, stop putting frosting on the dog,” Blue said to his son before turning to me and handing me another glass of sparkling wine. “Are you regretting inviting kids to the wedding? Because I sure am.”
I took a sip and savored the flavor. “Never. Whenever we’re here at the vineyard, I feel like I can just let nature watch the girls for us. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Mia ran by with a champagne glass in her hand that I had to hope held only sparkling grape juice.
“Zzzt,” Blue hissed. “You just jinxed us.”
Sure enough, in the next second, a scream split the air. “Sorry,” I said, turning to find where the sound originated. Thankfully, it wasn’t one of ours. “Whose little boy is that?”
“My sister Simone’s youngest.” Blue rolled his eyes. “I can tell by the sound that’s his fake cry. It’s his new favorite thing whenever his father is around. The man is a sucker for tears.”
Grant walked up in time to hear the tail end of Blue’s statement. “You aren’t telling him about last night, are you?” he asked with an accusatory look.
I thought back to the night before. With the approach of our “real” wedding, I’d gotten overwhelmed with emotion, so much I’d actually cried.
“No,” I murmured with a smile. “We weren’t talking about you.”
“We are now, though,” Blue said with a knowing grin. “Spill.”
Over the past year, we’d become close friends with Blue and Tristan Marian. They had an incredible group of other gay couple family and friends who lived here in Napa, and we found ourselves gravitating toward their group more and more. Their kids had been at Mountbatten longer than ours had, so they were a great resource in navigating some of the challenges that had arisen over our first year at the school.
And, I couldn’t lie, the man was a comic genius with his custom T-shirts.
Grant’s fingers tangled with mine, and he bumped my shoulder, letting me know he was okay with me sharing a little with Blue.
“It hit me last night that this was finally real,” I confessed. “Even after a whole year together, I still can’t believe I’m living my fairy tale. So when I overheard him on a phone call referring to me as his ‘beloved husband,’ I kind of lost it.”
Blue gave us a knowing smile. “Isn’t it the best? You know the story of how Tristan and I started out pretending to be a couple, right?”
I nodded, having heard the whole hilarious tale of their fake relationship more than once, usually over copious amounts of wine.
Blue’s gaze automatically searched out his husband, who stood near the buffet table charming Grant’s mother and Fen, and his smile became a huge, satisfied grin. “Even now, after years of being married, when Tristan calls me his husband, it does something to me.” He sighed happily before turning his attention back to Grant. “So, who were you telling about your beloved husband?”
“Work,” Grant admitted with an eye roll. “They wanted me to cut our honeymoon short to cover a couple of shifts in the ER, and I… disagreed.”
“Forcefully,” I added, my chest puffed with pride the way it had the night before. “You should have heard him. He got that deep, commanding voice that makes me crazy and said, ‘I have given this hospital everything for years, but I will not ask my beloved husband to forsake one moment of our family time because of your staffing issues.’ I was so proud of him.”