It's Always Complicated (Her Billionaires Book 4) (35 page)

“I can’t believe you’re married!” Aunt Cathy squealed, pulling Josie in for a hug.

“I can’t believe she wore white!” Darla shouted. “That ship sailed a long time ago!”

“DARLA!” everyone shouted.

“Like, in the Viking Era!” she continued.

“Joe! Trevor!” Josie called out, incensed.

“We’re here. We can’t keep her quiet either.” Joe offered Alex a handshake and Josie a formal hug, while Trevor hugged them both.

“Congratulations,” Trevor said.

“Maybe you’re next?” Aunt Cathy said, eyes dancing.

Joe went white.

Cathy cackled.

And a chicken imitated her, walking through the crowd, people parting and laughing. Jillian broke free from Grandma Rose and started chasing the rust-colored hen.

Darla joined Joe in his whiteness.

“Is that a sign?” Josie teased Darla.

“Shut your piehole.”

Josie just cackled along with everyone else. They sounded like clucking hens.

Alex watched his grandpa and Madge as they walked over to the bar, took in the assemblage of aunts and uncles, cousins and coworkers, Sandy and Pete and their family and workers all managing the details of the ceremony, the seating, the food and festivities, and he felt a great peace descend over him.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered as Josie nestled under his shoulder.

“You’re perfect,” she said, face tipped up to meet his eyes. “Dr. Perfect.”

“Then that makes you Mrs. Perfect,” he said.

And she was.

Lydia

“You look awfully wistful,” Krysta said, handing her a much-needed beer and a hug.

“You know. Weddings.” Lydia shrugged.

“This is not your normal wedding. It must make you think about possibilities.”

“Shhhh. Don’t say that around my mother! I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Don’t say what around me?” Sandy asked, approaching from the buffet table. “Krysta, can you find Caleb and tell him we’re out of the toffee-pistachio cannoli?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Krysta said, cheeks pink, brown curls bouncing as she strode off like a race walker.

“You don’t need to be here, honey. Go back to the hospital and be with Mike.” Sandy put her hands on Lydia’s shoulders and gave her a good look. “You need rest and time with your men.”

“I know. I just wanted to come and check in. Jeremy’s at the hospital. He shooed me home to shower and get some supplies.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia saw Krysta jog back, her stride strong. She joined her and Sandy and smiled, face flushed from exertion.
 

O
r from seeing Caleb. Probably both.

“Ah. Good man,”
Sandy said.
 

“They’re both good men,” Lydia choked out, giving in to emotion. Krysta gave her a side hug, the heat from her flushed face making Lydia relax and cry at the same time. She’d missed her best friend last night, in the nightmare that hadn’t quite yet faded.

“They are,” Sandy and Krysta said in unison.

“Looks like all these grooms are, too,” Pete announced from behind, approaching the crew with a six pack of blueberry beer. “Need a drink?”

Lydia finished off the bottle from Krysta and promptly took a fresh one from her dad. “As long as someone can drive me back to the hospital, I’ll have a few.”

“Whatever you need, honey.” He kissed the crown of her head.

“New tray of coconut shrimp!” Caleb announced, coming in from Lydia’s left, delivering a massive platter with a new sauce—lime marmalade horseradish—for dipping. Lydia had gagged the first time he’d mentioned it, but the taste had won her over.

“Dad? Krysta? Can you help me get another tray of lobster out here?” Caleb asked, giving Lydia small glances of concern. She ignored him. While she appreciated the support, sometimes being part of a big family was stifling.

Pete, Krysta and Caleb huddled, whispering, then walked down toward the catering area.

Her stomach growled as the scent from the shrimp hit her nose..

“When did you last eat?” Sandy asked, not bothering to wait for an answer, nudging her toward the food table. Lydia looked at the sumptuous feast Grandma and Caleb had assembled. As part of the wedding preparations, Laura and Josie had basically asked that the Jeddy’s menu be recreated here, with all of their favorites.

Coconut shrimp with various flavors of aioli. Chipotle-maple sausages on little tooth picks. Cheesy potato pancakes with a special chive sour cream paprika dip. Fried green tomatoes with horseradish sauce.

And for dessert: Peanut Butter Hulk Smash Cake. Grand
P
eanut
B
utter
C
ake (two different dishes). Peppermint sundaes with hot fudge sauce. Pistachio-toffee cream cannoli.

And it all looked like piles of sand to Lydia.

Exhaustion made her sag, the day’s trauma hitting her full force.

“I’m not hungry,” she said truthfully, beginning to shake, as if her muscles needed to exorcise the day’s horror from every fiber of her being. Lydia had the sense that every part of her connected to the rest in a slightly off-kilter way, as if every angle were a half-degree off. Someone poured wet clay into her body and let it dry.

“You need to eat, honey,” Sandy said, helping Lydia into a chair. Her mom went to the buffet table and made her a small plate with steaming coconut shrimp and some sauce, plus handed her a bottled water. “Drink this first, then eat.”

“But I—”

“
Eat.
”

Lydia tensed, the tone from Mom sending her back two decades. When Sandy used that tone, you
obeyed
.

She popped the fat shrimp in her mouth and tore half of it off wit
h
her teeth. “Happy?” she said around the hot bite.

“Yes.”

“Mmmmmmm,” Lydia groaned, her senses assaulted by the phenomenal culinary pleasure. “Caleb is upping his game.”

“Why does he get all the credit?” Grandma appeared from behind a tent pole, her boyfriend Ed in tow. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Lydia mused, eating another bite. Sandy shot her an I told you so look, which Lydia ignored.

“I guess because chopped liver is something you ignore?”

Ed laughed and kissed her grandma’s cheek. “My Madge did an outstanding job as usual.”

Grandma smiled, her face cracking into so many layers that all looked like different circles on a tree.

Except these were like love rings, measuring how well-loved she was.

“Couldn’t do it without Caleb,” Madge said.

“You don’t get to keep him,” Sandy said, her voice holding an edge. “He needs to come back here, Mom!”

“He’s a man, Sandy, not a preteen boy who doesn’t want to come home from a weekend visit with Grandma. You can’t control what he decides.”

“Mother!” Her own mom drew out the word, her tone going up at the end.

Lydia shoved an entire shrimp in her mouth and looked anywhere but at her mom and grandma.

Mike Pine limped through the crowd, people parting as he ambled through, patting his shoulder and making sympathetic faces. By the time he got to them, he looked pale, dark circles under his eyes, red scratches everywhere. He had a shiner on his right eye socket, which reminded Lydia of her own man’s wound.

And suddenly she couldn’t eat.

“Where’s Pete?” Pine asked, giving Lydia and half smile.

“He’s somewhere ’round here.” Her mother frowned. “You need to go rest.”

“I am,” Pine said, giving her a long look. “I just want to thank you and Pete for everything you’ve done.” He gave Lydia an imploring stare. “All of you.”

It took every bit of will to swallow.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry
, she told herself.

Herself didn’t follow orders.

Tears gushed out of her eyes like a sudden summer squall. Childlike and fragile, she set her eyes on a giant globe of sundae, the dish clearly designed for four people to share.

Sandy noticed and waved to Madge, who brought it over.

“Peppermint hot fudge sundae?”

Mike Pine’s face split into a grin just as a very sweaty Laura appeared behind him, carrying two sleeping boys on her hips.

“My favorite,” Laura gasped.

Dylan walked over, peeling one boy off her hip, whispering, “Cyndi’s got Jilly. She wants to dance all night.”

“She can dance until bedtime, which is a generous nine o’clock.”

The group laughed.

Lydia’s mouth was full of a spoonful of heaven, her eyes darting from man to woman to man, her sniffles slowing. They were so happy.

Really happy.

Mike, Laura and Dylan had crafted a life outside the norm, yet it had the trappings of normality. Love. Accidents. Children. Money. Business. Family. Friends.

Life.

Lydia smiled and took another bite as the trio, with their boys, finished their goodbyes, disappearing into the dusk-filled woods.

And just like that, home felt more like
home
than ever before.

Paris, France

Josie

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Alex gushed, his face tipping up to look at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

“I can’t believe you called the hospital and took an entire extra week off,” Josie said in a voice that matched his tone of wonder. He really did it. The man who lived for his work had chosen her.

“When someone offers you free plane tickets and a place to stay for a trip to Paris, you take the time off,” Alex argued, but then he grimaced. “Not that you’re not worth a week’s honeymoon.”

“I know what you mean.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his temple. “But you’ll still pay for that comment.”

“I can’t believe I’m staring at the Eiffel Tower.”

“I can’t believe we left the hotel room and haven’t even had sex in Paris yet. What the hell is wrong with us?”

Their stomachs growled in unison.

“Basic hunger takes precedence over sex needs,” Alex replied in his doctor voice.

“Since when?”

“Since jet lag,” he said, pulling her to an adorable outdoor caf
é
with black wrought iron chairs and tables.

Ten minutes later, two croissants and two
cappuccinos
resting on a tray at the table
, they ate their way through heaven.

“Mike, Laura and Dylan were so nice to give us these tickets!” Alex marveled. He would not shut up about this.

“The hard part was telling Darla that no, just because there was a third ticket that did not mean she got to come.”

He barked out a laugh. “She even offered to just sleep in the hallway outside our room.”

“I think she was serious!” Josie shuddered.

Alex finished his latte and picked the crumbs off his plate, one by one, licking the tip of his index finger.

“We can order another. We’re not that broke,” Josie teased.

He smiled, taking in a deep breath. “An entire week alone with you, in Paris. What will we do?” He leaned in for a kiss. Josie tasted chocolate and coffee on his lips.

“You mean other than the seven minutes a day it takes for sex? Not sure.”

He pouted. “Seven minutes! I take longer than seven minutes.”

“Really? Prove it.”

“Let’s go back to the room and—”

“Do we really need a room?”

She loved watching his face as the implication of her words sank in.

“You want to—outdoors?” Now his curiosity was piqued.

“We share that...proclivity in common.”

“And we learned it runs in the family,” he mused.

“Way to kill a mood, Dr. Perfect!” She bristled. Her Aunt Cathy’s revelation about her mother’s enjoyment of outdoor sex hadn’t exactly been an aphrodisiac.

“Sorry. How about we just go back to the room, open the windows, and pretend?”

She laughed in spite of herself and stood. “Deal.”

The walk back to the room was practically a sprint, Alex’s mouth on hers before the hotel room door was even closed, the windows already open and sheer curtains billowing in from a strong breeze. Outside, the sounds of the city filled the air, so similar to the sounds back home. While the ca
f
é
had been filled with people speaking French, which had made parts of Josie’s brain shut down and others ignite, now the city gave a soundtrack to their visit that Josie could process.

“You taste so good,” Alex said, pulling her shirt over her head, his hands on her jeans, unbuttoning them.

“Why the rush?” she gasped, her own fingers frantic.

“I need to be in you.”

“You always need to be in me.”

“I’ve never been inside you in Paris.”

“That’s a good reason.”

She had him naked in seconds, straddling his deliciously long body on a bed that made atrocious squeaky spring noises as she moved.

“We can’t have sex on this bed.”

Alex’s eyes filled with alarm. “Why not?”

EEeeEEeeEEee

She bounced on the bed to make her point. Alex’s eyes followed along, staring at her naked breasts.

“I like that!” he said heartily.

Eyeing the window, she tiptoed to the curtains to discover they had a tiny patio, no wider than—

A body.

Crooking her finger, she implored him to come hither. At this point, he was just going to come, period. His erection was so long and hard it looked like he was going to explode.
She’d never noticed before that it tipped slightly to one side, as if deferring to his navel’s view. Tucking away the detail with a deep amusement, she spiraled inward, loving that she had that image in her.
 

“Grab the bedcover.”

“What?” He looked at her like she was cuckoo.

He would be right.

She stood, naked, excited and trembling, pointing to the tiny patio. “Trust me.”

He laughed. “I always do,” sliding the coverlet off the bed and dragging it closer.

“See?”

“Oh,” he said in a low voice. “I do see.”
He spread the cover on the patio and then she was
down
.
 

Alex’s
body covered hers before she could even think, his heat so strong she didn’t need a blanket. She was wet, pulsing and ready, her clit crying out for his touch before she died from the sheer frustration of going from zero to sixty without his ministrations.