Three Months Later
I pull the blanket up, covering Grace’s naked body. She shifts, nestling in closer to me, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
I kiss her hair, running my finger up and down her arm. “What are you doing today?”
She tips her chin up, her eyes meeting mine, but doesn’t move her head from its position on my chest. “Running. And then shopping with Dani.” Her eyes shine, a silly smile on her face. “You know, I used to think that I shopped too much. And then I met your sister.”
I groan. “We don’t have room for anything else.”
Her smile grows wider, and with a wink she tells me, “Then let’s buy a house.”
I shake my head. “You’re not buying us a house, Grace.”
We’d had this fight off and on over the last few months, and while she’d been a fierce opponent, I’d stood my ground, refusing to let her use her grandmother’s money to buy us a bigger place. I’d been able to swallow my pride on a lot of things, but I’d stuck to my guns about Grace using her money for a home for us.
We were making a life together, and it wasn’t going to be built on a foundation of hate.
“You’re already paying all the bills, Bronn. Let me do something for you. For us,” she pleads, sticking her bottom lip out.
I chuckle. She’s cute and she knows it, using that face to get what she wants. But not this time. “I like taking care of you.”
Her hand trails down my abs, and she wraps her fingers around my cock. “You take really good care of me, you know.”
My balls tighten, lust surging through my veins. I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes. “That’s not going to work. Besides, we don’t have time for that anyway.”
“Mmm,” she purrs. “Are you sure? I don’t have to go for a run this morning.”
Her touch lights a fire in my belly, the way it always has, and I fight to hang onto the thread of control I have. I want to flip her over, slide inside of her, and get lost in the way she makes me feel, but I’ve got something else planned for the day, something I think she’ll appreciate more.
“It’s not gonna work this time,” I tell her through clenched teeth, desperately trying to ignore the way her palm is working my dick. “We need to get up and get dressed.”
She sighs heavily, releasing her hold on me. “Fine.” She throws the comforter off us and pushes out of the bed. Grabbing her running clothes, she saunters to the bathroom, wiggling her ass at me as she goes. “You sure we don’t have time?”
I let out a groan.
After the day that I’d given her the tapes, admitted my feelings for her and begged her to forgive me, she’d asked me to stay. Nearly three months later, I hadn’t left yet. I’d woken up beside her every morning, her warm body wrapped around mine, her face always smiling, in disbelief that this was my reality.
There are still times that I don’t think I deserve her. I’m still waiting for her to come to her senses and tell me to take a hike.
But she hadn’t yet, and I’m determined to be the man she deserves.
“As much as I love your perfect ass, and want nothing more to spend the day in bed with it, we can’t.”
She rolls her eyes and begins pulling her clothes on, lifting a shoulder. “Your loss. After my run, you want to get breakfast?”
I push up on an elbow. “Is that what you’re wearing today?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Well, yeah…” she drawls.
Climbing out of bed, I go to the closet and pull out her favorite heels. “I was thinking that you should wear these today.” I continue to rummage through the closet until I find her sweater dress, my personal favorite, and hold it up. “And this.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes squinted. “Bronn, are you feeling okay? I love that dress, but I can’t exactly run in it. What’s wrong with you?”
Tossing the dress on the bed, I saunter over to the chair that she’s perched in and squat in front of her. “I mean, if you want to wear your running clothes to pick up your dad, then I guess that’ll be okay.” Her eyes widen and her hand flies to her mouth. “But, I know you, and you’ll want to look your best.” Standing, I pull her up with me. “So why don’t you wear the dress I picked out?”
Her mouth opens and closes, no words coming out. A single tear rolls down her cheek, and I swipe it away with the pad of my thumb.
“It’s time to bring him home, baby,” I whisper, just a moment before she launches herself into my arms, squealing so loudly I worry I’ll have permanent hearing loss.
I’d been hanging onto the information for days, barely able to keep it to myself. The attorney that Grace had hired with Nana’s money was worth every penny and had been able to fast track the appeal with the new evidence. Mickey Chumley was being released on time served, and today was the day.
She pulls back and looks into my eyes, the depth of emotion shimmering in her own. “I love you, Bronnson.”
Never tiring of hearing those words, I crush my lips to hers. “I love you, too, Grace.”
The air’s freezing, the sweater dress not keeping me nearly warm enough. I knew when I put it on that it wasn’t going to be able to ward off the cold of the December air, but Bronn had been right. I wanted to look my absolute best today.
Shivering from the cold, I hug my arms around my waist, working to keep my teeth from chattering.
“You cold?”
I glance over at Bronn and nod, lifting a shoulder. “Fashion over function strikes again.”
His eyes crinkle with his smile, and he gives a quick shake of his head. “Want my jacket?”
“No. I want to look nice. And no offense, your jacket wouldn’t complement my dress.” I glance down, shuffling my feet back.
God, is it possible to get frostbite in just a few minutes?
“Here he comes,” Bronnson murmurs, and my head snaps up. I can see a figure making his way down the tunnel, barely distinguishable in the shadows.
I suck in a deep breath and press my lips together. I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t cry today. I’d done enough crying in the last few months.
The shadowy figure slowly becomes clearer, and eventually I can make out my dad’s features. His head is high, his shoulders squared. Gone is the stooped-over man that I saw that day in the courtroom. The man walking out of the tunnel has clear eyes, the deep lines of his forehead are gone, and his face is lit with the most blinding smile I’ve ever seen.
He emerges from the tunnel fully, and when he does I sling my purse at Bronn and take off running. The moment his feet step off the curb, he opens his arms and I launch myself into them, shrieking.
“Daddy!” I shout in his ear. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this is real!”
He holds me and doesn’t complain as I squeeze him as tightly as possible. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up back in that prison cell,” he whispers in my ear, his voice wobbly.
I pull back and see tears streaming down his face. “Oh, Daddy,” I murmur, squeezing him again. “Don’t cry! You’ll make me cry and I spent an hour doing my makeup this morning.”
“My Bear,” he whispers into my hair.
I swallow hard, but surprise even myself as I keep my eyes dry. Daddy doesn’t let go, and I refuse to be the first to break our embrace.
We stand like that, arm in arm, in the parking lot of the maximum-security prison, until Bronn clears his throat behind us.
With one final squeeze, I untangle myself from my dad’s arms and turn. Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I press my lips together and force a smile.
I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be, but letting out a shaky breath, I tell him, “Daddy, this is Bronnson. My boyfriend.”
Throughout the course of my life, I’d often imagined what it would be like to bring a boy home to meet my Daddy. I never thought it was possible, but that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about it. I’d come up with a million different scenarios.
I’d giggled when Daddy would give the boy a firm handshake and a stern lecture about taking care of his princess. I’d rolled my eyes and grinned when he’d declared that his daughter was too good for the pimply-faced kid she’d brought home.
But never once in all those fantasies had I ever envisioned this—introducing my father to the son of the man he’d shot in self-defense.
No one speaks for several moments, the tension in the air thick. Finally, my father clears his throat and sticks out his hand. “Bronnson, nice to meet you.”
I look from my Daddy to Bronn, then back to the hand that continues to float in the air, waiting for some sort of reaction. With my heart in my throat, I breathe a silent prayer that this isn’t a mistake.
I look back at Bronn and his eyes meet mine. A slow smile forms on his face and he lifts his own hand, grasping my father’s and giving it a firm shake. “Mr. Chumley. It’s nice to meet you.”
They stand here, hand in hand, and look each other over. My dad is the first to pull back, but he gives a quick dip of his chin.
“We good?”
Bronn wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. “Mr. Chumley, I love your daughter. Everything that’s happened between us is in the past where it belongs. The only thing that matters to me is the future. And my future is with Grace.”
I wrap one arm around his waist, and with my free hand reach for my father.
Together the three of us walk away from the prison, leaving the bars between us where they belong.
Behind us.