Any Man I Want (8 page)

Carter—Saturday, May 28—11:48 am

 

 

T
he 2500-square-foot villa had been transformed into a rose-laden wedding chapel. Belle had chosen gold and blue as her colors and her coordinator went all the way in with it. The ceremony was being held in the living areas of the two-bedroom villa. Fabric, flowers, lights, and candles adorned most surfaces. White roses were arrayed in large bouquets and petals were strewn along a carpeted walkway leading to the newly created altar.

Beau and I stood with the preacher waiting for things to get started. I slid a questioning look at Beau as he shifted nervously from foot to foot under the flowered arch some creative person had placed in front of the windows overlooking the private infinity pool deck. It was the fifth time in the last minute and a half that he fidgeted around. Beau was not a fidgety kind of guy. Particularly not in Armani formal wear. He loved how he looked in a tux and hated to ruin the line. All this shifting about was worrisome.

“Dude. You straight?” I asked in a low voice, keeping my face neutral. About fifty friends and Montgomery family members sat staring at the two of us. I'd overheard his Uncle August taking bets on whether Beau would really go through with this or not. I put a hundred on my boy Beau going the distance. We were about five or ten minutes away from the ceremony starting. Reverend Moss had been flown in from Dallas and stood beside us. At my words he lifted his eyes from the Bible he was holding and gave us a speculative glance. We both waited for Beau's answer with much anticipation.

“
Je suis bon, mon ami
. I'm fine. It just hit me, you know. I'm here. We're in tuxes. There are more flowers than I thought humanly possible scattered every freakin' where. I'm about to do this thing. The whole forever and always, death-do-us-part thing.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded slowly. “That generally goes hand in hand with the matrimony thing.”

“This is real-life serious grown-up-ness, you know?” He looked like a man who just woke up from a dream and realized where he was and what he was doing.

“Yep. It had to happen sooner or later. Even Peter Pan stopped flying around with Tinkerbell, left Neverland, and settled his ass down.” I had no idea what I was saying . . . just something—anything—to calm him down and keep this moving.

He turned to look at me. “Is that how the original story goes? I thought in the book he never grew up, ditched Wendy, and flew around playing the flute.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Bruh, I am not standing up here on your wedding day debating the origins and evolution of Peter effing Pan. Im'a need you to get your head in the game and make this woman your wife already. It's not only what you want, it's what you need. Let's do this, all right?” This best-man business was tricky. I had to straddle backing his play if he decided to bolt with keeping him grounded and here to do what I knew he really wanted. I gave Beau my sternest “don't make me kick your ass up in here” glower.

He put his hands up in surrender. “Stand down. I know, I know. I needed a moment to take it all in. Just had to get my bearings. You know, I really never thought I'd do this.”

I decided not to tell him that no one ever thought he'd do this. On a need-to-know basis right now? He didn't need to know that. “Man, you're almost forty. Your oats been sown years ago.”

Beau pointed at me and then himself. “Which of us is the pot and which is the kettle? I'm just taking a breath.”

“Breathe already, bruh. Exhale or whatever. You are never gonna find a woman that perfect for you who also puts up with all your trifling ways.”

“I'm less trifling than I used to be, but I take your point.” Beau grinned at me and clapped his hands together. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “All right, let's get this party started.” He raised his voice. “Send out my damned bride already!”

“Oh no, you didn't!” Belle's voice rang out from down the hallway. “I will be there when I get there and you will damn well wait.”

“You tell him, girl!” a voice rang out from the second row.

“Man, is your Aunt Yo-Yo already lit?” I asked Beau.

“I assume she's still boozy from last night.” He shrugged. “I don't know what all the girls got into.”

I pressed my lips together and looked off into the distance. Some things an older brother didn't need to know about his little sister.

“It's like that?” Beau asked.

“Like what?” I asked innocently.

“You already keeping Katrina's secrets instead of sharing with your boy?”

I shrugged. “She's prettier than you.”

“Whipped already,” Beau teased.

The entrance music started, saving me from any kind of response. What would I have said anyway?
I wish I was whipped, but I'm trying to do right by your sister and it's killing me?
No, some thoughts you just kept to yourself.

The rest of the wedding party filed in wearing navy and gold: Davis with Yazlyn. Dalton with Veronica. Roman with Jewel, Batiste with Katrina. Katrina glided down the aisle in a skintight gold dress that left her shoulders bare and clung everywhere a man wished it would on its way to the floor. Her hair was pulled back and fell in curls down her back. She winked at me and put some extra wiggle in her walk when she saw me staring. “Jesus Christ,” I muttered, concentrating on not sporting wood on this reverent occasion.

Beau elbowed me in my ribs. “For God's sake, get some dignity about yourself, man. Put your tongue back in your mouth. That's my baby sister and this is my wedding day.”

“Uh-huh,” I said absently, not taking my eyes off of his baby sister. He jabbed me again with his elbow, harder this time. And I pulled my eyes forward to see Pops wagging a finger at me from the front row. “My bad,” I mouthed.

The party reached the altar and lined up. The music paused for a moment and then the wedding march began. Belle floated into view on the arm of her father, Percy. Belle was a tall beauty who looked like an all-American cross between Halle Berry and Iman. Her hair was short and layered. She had wide brown eyes and a smile that had sold many tubes of toothpaste. Today, she looked incandescent. I nudged Beau. “Look at that beautiful girl you're about to claim.”

Beau stood up straighter, with eyes only for his bride. “Damn straight, I am. Step it up, babe,” he called out. “I need to make this legal before you realize I'm getting the better end of this deal.”

“Oh, I was already knowin', sugar.” She winked.

He stepped forward to shake Percy's hand and shifted Belle's hand into his. “If you don't look like a sexy-assed Disney princess.”

She grinned up at him. “You know I had step up my cute to compare with your pretty ass.”

“If both of you cake-topper-looking idiots could get on with it, we could get out of these monkey suits and have a party already,” Roman stage-whispered.

“Right?” Katrina said. “Some of us have other things to do today.”

“Other things or other people, Miss Hot Pants?” Veronica teased.

“Whichever,” Katrina said, sending me a heated look.

“I see you, princess.” I gave her a head nod.

“Ain't nobody trying to see dat,” Beau groused.

“Children!” Madere scolded. She looked at Reverend Moss. “They were really raised better than this. You can go ahead, Reverend.”

“But, um . . . we do want the short version, rev,” Belle said, smiling. “We're really more about the honeymooning.”

“One would think you two had that part perfected by now, sis,” Davis teased.

“Delaney Mirabella and Dalton, if I have to come up there!” Percy called out.

“That was actually Davis, Dad.” Dalton corrected him.

“Maybe if you hadn't given half of us names that start with ‘D' you could keep us straight.” Davis grinned.

“I've got you straight enough to come up there and whip all y'alls impertinent asses in front of these fine folks,” Percy announced. Everyone in the church smothered their laughter since Percy looked like he meant business.

Reverend Moss cleared his throat. “Why don't I just take it from the top, shall I?”

I patted him on the arm. “Do your thing, sir.”

He nodded. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God—and in the face of this company—to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, a commendable institution to be honored among all men; and therefore—is not by any—to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly—but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined.”

I relaxed as the ceremony got underway, Beau and Belle staring into each other's eyes; friends and family smiling and nodding; Katrina giving me the tonight-is-the-night look. This was how the day was supposed to be.

Katrina—Saturday, May 28—1:49 pm

 

 

I
kicked my shoes off and reached forward to help Belle remove the glittery tiara from her head. I smiled at her. “You really do look like a Disney princess.” Her strapless white gown was layers of crystal-encrusted whisper-thin silk that wrapped around her torso and tapered down to her waist before billowing out to a full ball gown.

She beamed back at me. “I know. Can you believe it, honey? All this time I was so positive I was going to go sleek and modern, but when Yazlyn brought me this designer's dress, I had to have it. Was it too much?”

“Not at all. Is it bad that I'm wondering who the designer is and if we should launch a line of wedding dresses at BellaRich?”

“Ha! I thought the same thing, sugar,” Belle drawled in her Georgia-peach voice.

“Good, we'll talk about it when you get back from your honeymoon. Now, what are you changing into for the reception?” I looked around the bedroom.

“Remember that white suit you designed for resort wear?”

I tilted my head in confusion. “That was a man's suit.”

“It was. Beau had the idea to nip in the waist, put sheer material on the sleeves, turn the pants palazzo, and make it out of jersey and silk.” She pulled it out of the closet and showed it to me.

I flipped open the jacket to look at the altered, more feminine design. “That brother of mine, who knew, huh?” The material it was made with was white, but shot through with iridescent threads, making it look like it was glowing. “That's pretty genius.”

“Beauregard has his moments.” She gave a secret smile and turned so I could unzip the dress and assist her out of it.

“He was smart enough to seal the deal with you.” I handed her a robe to slip on.

“He sure 'nuff did, didn't he?” Her smile turned tremulous.

“You sound surprised.”

“I have to admit there was a part of me that wondered if he would cut and run at the last minute.”

I slid my arm around her waist for a quick hug. “Oh, Belle.”

She shrugged. “He loves me. I know this. He shows me in so many ways. I love him back, but he was deeply committed to playboyism for a lot of years. I had to wonder if he could let it all go.”

“Playboyism?” I repeated with a smirk.

“Sounds nicer than
rampant man-whoring
.”

“True. But that was then, this is now. All it took was one good woman, the right woman, and he got his head on straight,” I declared with a nod.

“Hmm. Funny you should say that,” she murmured as we headed over to the small room behind the bath where the mini–beauty salon was set up. I waved the makeup artist and stylist in so they could refresh Belle's face and hair before the reception.

“What's funny about that?” I raised my brows.

“You know, sweetie, you and Beau are so much alike in so many ways.”

I shot her a warning look. “Wedding day or not, if you're about to call me a ho, I'm sneezing on your four-tier white chocolate wedding cake.”

“Classy.” She rolled her eyes. “You know I'm not about to call you any such thing. I will say that for some reason, you both tend to think that happiness—true happiness—is meant for someone else, not yourselves. And if all it took was one woman—me—to get Beau to where he is today, can't you open yourself up to the possibility that all it will take is one good man—Carter—to get you there, too?”

I settled in the chair opposite hers and crossed my arms. Five minutes as a wife and suddenly she had all the answers? “This is because you're married now, right? Because you are Mrs. Beau Montgomery—whoa, the sound of that just freaked me out a little bit. Moving on—you think everyone is else is ready to be Mr. and Mrs. Somebody?”

“No, Miss Snarky. When I first saw you and Carter together at that bar, the one where Renee showed up and . . . you know what, let's not go there on my wedding day. You know when I'm talking about. You'd had too much champagne . . .”

“Apparently a recurring theme in my life, but yes—I know what night you are talking about.”

“I thought then that there was something between you.” She looked over at me, daring me to deny it. I didn't.

“There is. It's called
sexual tension
and we're going to take care of that this evening.” I resisted the urge to do a fist pump into the air. It was going to be tonight, it was going to be epic, and I could not wait. Okay, I was probably too excited, overly anticipating the event. I'd been with guys before and in my experience, they always talked a big game and delivered very little. I had a feeling, a gut feeling that this time would be different. More than a feeling, a foregone conclusion. This was Carter. He was not the kind to overpromise and under-deliver; it just wasn't him. The fact that he wasn't bragging about his sexual prowess made me want to find what he was working with even more.

“Katrina, you think Big Sexy was waiting on you to grow up to scratch an itch? Like he can't have any woman he wants, whenever he wants?”

“You think he was waiting on me to grow up?” I liked the idea more than I thought I would.

“I definitely think he's been waiting on you.”

“He has never said a word about long-term. We've only been officially dating for a week. We haven't even slept together yet. Everybody needs to just calm down.”

“You've known each other for years. More than foreplay, it's like you've been in pre-relationship status for years.”

“This is different. It's me and Carter. We don't know exactly what we've got yet. It might take some time to unravel it all.”

“I knew the weekend after I met your brother that it was going to be serious.”

“I think you've got some revisionist history going on there, but I'm going let you have that on your wedding day.” To my recollection, she held him off for about three months and then they spent another three months bouncing naked whenever the whim struck them. Then they decided they might want to get serious between all the naked time. But, hey, I was on the outside looking in, so what did I know?

“Girl, please wake up and smell the happily-ever-after. If you could just be open to it... that's all I'm saying,” Belle implored me.

I waved her concerns away with my hand. “I have too much going on to think long-term right now. I have to find out who is making my life hell, we're behind on the summer line, and I want to talk about designing shoes.”

“Shoes and wedding dresses. We will. But let me say this last thing.”

“It's your day, sister. Say whatever you want.”

Her eyes turned dreamy and she reached over to squeeze my hand. “Sister.”

I squeezed back. “I know, right? Can you believe you married my brother?”

“Can you believe he married
me
?” I thought it was cute that she thought he was such a catch. I loved my brother, but he was high maintenance.

“He would've been a fool not to. My brother is many things, but a fool is not one of them.”

“You got that right. But back to you.”

Clearly she wasn't going to let this go. “Oh, jeez. Okay. Speak your truth, married lady.”

“Carter is the real deal, okay? I want you to give this an honest try. If you don't think you can do it, just walk away now and save everybody some unnecessary drama.”

“That's what he said.”

“He's right.”

“Okay. I hear you. And I'll take it under advisement. Now, let's get you in that gorgeous suit and back by your husband's side before he comes looking for you.”

She glanced down at the band of diamonds that joined the chocolate diamond solitaire on her hand. She gave me a smug grin. “Husband. I am Mrs. Beau Montgomery.”

“Um, um, um. May God have mercy on your soul.”