Cockney: A Stepbrother Romance (61 page)

We kiss for what feels like an hour but is probably more like ten glorious seconds with the million flashbulbs going off around us, before she pulls back and grins at me.

“Sorry, I probably should have mentioned it before that I love you.”

I shrug and grin at her; “Oh, do you? Yeah I never would have picked up on tha-”

She laughs and punches my arm before I pull her right back into me; “Hey Princess,” I murmur, kissing her again; “I love you too, you know.”

And right there, nothing else matter in the whole fucking universe but her.

P A S T

I take my time getting ready. As I’m pulling my pants on, or tucking in my shirt, or tying the double windsor knot in my tie, it’s like I’m suiting up my armor to head into battle. I can feel my nerves jangling like live-wires inside of me, my pulse skipping around like a broken record as I finish getting ready; finish getting prepared for this.

I’ve had a
million
conversations with her over the last few years. I’ve written her letters that I’ve burned instead of sending, had conversations with the memory of her late into the night when I’m alone and sleepless with my thoughts. Hell, I’ve played out
this
very meeting a hundred different ways in my head since I decided I was going. But none of it has me prepared to see her again. But the nervousness and the jangling nerves is like an elevated, surreal feeling that’s better than any booze. 

It was Bryce who heard about the chain store pulling funding after her comments about raising the minimum wage, and while I’ve weighed how she’s going to react to this a dozen different ways since then, I know this is the only way. I believe in her, and not just because I know William did, but because if believing in her and her campaign is believing in myself and maybe my ability to become normal someday.

I finger the bullet in my pocket, staring down my reflection in the mirror. I straighten my tie once more, along with a straying bit of hair, before I take a deep breath. This is it. It’s time to go meet Reagan Archer for the first time in five years, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m actually
excited
about what might come at me next.

P R E S E N T

Two weeks later, after the media circus has
sort of
died down about the “Young Senatorial candidate and the billionaire Marine,” Hudson and I are back at my father’s house, sitting on the terrace off the library;
our
terrace. We’re sipping iced tea, and with my hands held in his, and he tells me everything;
all of it.
He tells me about the horrors of war, and the village in Afghanistan. He tells me about addiction and demons, and being on the run, and their stint as mercenaries in Africa. I start to tear up when he tells me about getting shot - both times -, but it’s when he looks me straight in the eye and tells me that my father was the best thing that ever happened to him for saving them from all of that, that I just start to cry.

“So, that’s-”

“That’s why I pushed you away the first time. I’d made your father a promise to protect you, and letting you into all that shit that was inside of me wasn’t protecting you at all.”

“And now?” I bite my lip as I look up at him, at this man who’s basically gone to the very edge and somehow come back to life; this man who makes me feel complete and alive like I’ve never felt before; “Is all of that history finished now?”

He shakes his head; “No- it’s not; not entirely.” He slides his hand through my hair to the back of my head as he pulls me close and grins at me; “But for now, I think I can let a lot of that shit go.” He winks at me; “Seems I’ve got more important things to think about now.” He leans in and kisses me, and I lose myself in him.

“Ms. Archer?” I break shyly away from Hudson as one of my staffers pokes her head out the door. Ok, Hudson and I are out in the open now, but PDA still makes me blush like a schoolgirl, even if he’s trying something in public every chance he gets.

“Yes?” I say, clearing my throat.

“There’s an older gentlemen here to see you.”

*****

Major Lawson nods a thanks as I pour him a glass of iced tea; “So, you’re going to win this thing, you know.”

I smile; “Ah, well thank you for your positive thoughts!“

He shakes his head, smiling; “No I mean, I’ve been doing this a long time, Ms. Archer, and you just plain have it. You
are
going to win this election.”

“Well, thank you, sir.”

“I’ve got a proposition for you though.” He takes a sip of tea and smiles at me; “I want you to do your two year stint with New York, and then I want you to quit.”

My eyes dart to Hudson before I turn back to the Major; “Excuse me?” I shake my head; “Listen, Major Lawson, if you think you can-”

“Because I want you to stop piddling away with this local yokel state stuff and come with me to D.C.”

My jaw drops as I stare at him; “What?”

“You have a unique quality, Ms. Archer, and a talent for statesmanship that you don’t see often in this business, as strange as that sounds.” He puts his glass down and steeples his hands in front of him; “I want to run you for U.S. Senate, Ms. Archer, so that I can put you on with Veterans Affairs where you can do some
real
good.”

I’m speechless, my mouth opening without words as my heart jumps up into my throat, and I realize I’m grinning like an idiot before I can even say anything. Major Lawson just smiles at me; “I’m going to assume that’s a yes?”

“Thats-!” Holy
shit
is that a yes! “
Yes!
Major,
yes!
I’d be honored!” 

Hudson is squeezing my hand and the Major’s eyes drop to that joining before he looks up at him; “Oh, and don’t think I don’t have plans for you too, Banks.”

Hudson frowns; “Sir?”

“We want you in D.C. too, actually. We’re starting up a new panel on VA affairs and post-combat aftercare, and we need a chairman.”

Hudson chuckles quietly and shakes his head; “Sir, I appreciate the honor, but I don’t think I’m the man who-”

“William Archer and I were quite close, Mr. Banks,” Major Lawson looks pointedly at Hudson; “
Quite
close.”

“Sir, I-”

“Son, I’ve seen war on three different continents, and after the shit-show you boys saw over there in that damned desert, I’m amazed you came back alive at all.” Hudson closes his mouth, and as I squeeze his hand, I feel him respond back.

Major Lawson looks at Hudson and nods; “What I’m trying to say is, son, I
know
about all the other stuff that came after, and I’m here today to tell you that I don’t really give a shit about all that. You’re a hell of a Marine, an even more impressive leader, and one of the strongest men I’ve known. I want you working where you can help.” He winks; “And seeing as I’m pretty much in charge of military records, I think we can go right ahead and gloss over those other things.”

Hudson is staring at him like he’s just handed him the keys to the world, and all I want to do is jump into his arms right there and kiss him.

The Major nods towards me and grins at him; “Just so long as you keep looking after William’s girl here.”

Hudson turns and looks right into my eyes, his grin wide and his shoulder looking free of a weight that he’s had on them forever; “Always, sir.”

We of course wait until the Major leaves before I let myself all into Hudson’s arms and into his kiss; “Always, huh?”

“Yeah,” He says, smirking at me; “Always.”

We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, but we’ve got either William or Christine picket out for names after my Dad and his Mom. I know Hudson’s pretty excited at the idea of having a little girl, but I’ve told him that there are
plenty
of Archer girls already without adding one more little probable spit-fire to the mix.

It was a small wedding with basically just the immediate families; my two sisters and my Aunt Kelly on one side, and the two guys who are for all intents and purposes his brothers on the other. We asked Major Lawson to walk me down the aisle, and Bryce ended up taking one of those online ordination classes and married us right there in the gardens of my father’s house. We were
barely
pregnant at the wedding, but that didn’t mean there weren’t
plenty
of jokes about the “shotgun” nature of it, especially after Logan told me the story of my Dad
literally
breaking up an arranged wedding in Angola between some local warlord and this poor
child
of a girl with an
actual shotgun
. Turns out my Dad was kind of a badass, which kind of makes the tattooed, scarred up, ex-mercenary, ex-drinker, ex-playboy of a Marine who’s now my husband make a whole lot of sense, if you subscribe to that weird Freudian stuff.