Chapter Sixteen
Beckett stood still, his jaw hurting from smiling as the photographer took “just one more” family photo. They were standing under a gazebo ringed with jasmine bushes and the smell lifted into the air as a cold breeze rolled through. Why Kayla had chosen to get married in winter he had no idea. But he had to admit their photos with the bright yellow umbrellas against the silver and slate-toned backdrop would be striking.
Like her. His sister looked like an angel—her face was flushed with happiness and her long gown made her look like a princess. Walking her down the aisle had been one of the proudest moments of his life. It meant so much that he could take the place by her side since her father had vanished into thin air. Again.
Telling her the bad news had damn near killed him. But after she’d sobbed into his shirt, she’d shaken the tears off and had vowed to let Greg go for good. Seems like it was a theme in his family at the moment—cutting ties with the past and forging a better future.
Beckett was ready for the formality to be over. Every time his gaze snagged on something purple, his heartbeat kicked up a notch. Kayla had made a point of telling him that McKenna would be at the wedding, but so far he hadn’t seen her.
“That’s it for the family portraits.” The photographer motioned for Kayla and Aaron to come forward. “How about we get the bride and groom to stand over here.”
The family members—which were about three times as many people on the groom’s side—drifted away. A waiter with a tray of champagne cocktails was waiting outside the gazebo, ready to serve the important and senior Mr. and Mrs. Corbett. Minnie hung back, with her hands clasped together, watching on as Kayla beamed up at her new husband for the camera.
Beckett took the moment to head out of the gazebo and across the artfully manicured lawn. The blades of grass were damp underfoot, from a brief flash of rain that’d sent people scattering a few moments ago. Thankfully it had held off for most of the day, and the ceremony had been inside an old chapel on the property. But now a fine mist sprayed down from above and he hurried toward the reception building with his head bowed.
Perhaps McKenna would be in one of the rooms set aside for the bride and groom. He knew they had a spot for the ladies in the bridal party to touch up their makeup and have a breather from the three hundred-strong crowd.
Beckett strode through the front door of Patterson House. The mansion had been built in the 1800s and later turned into a heritage tourist spot and event venue for the social elite. Everything was darkly ornate, from the rich wood paneling to the patterned tile in the foyer to the gold accents and heavy chandeliers. It was opulent. Old money.
“Excuse me.” He stopped the emcee, who happened to be walking past. “I need to get something from the makeup artist for Kayla. Do you know where she is?”
The stylish older man turned and pointed to a hallway off to their left. “Third door on the right.”
Beckett nodded his thanks and headed in the direction the emcee had indicated. His footsteps were loud in this quiet part of the building, or maybe it was simply the blood rushing in his ears that was making all the noise. His movements felt stiff and jerky, as though he’d only just learned how to walk.
He’d wanted to go to McKenna earlier in the week, but when he’d knocked on her door she didn’t answer. When he’d tried a second time, he could have sworn he’d heard footsteps but no one came. That’s when he remembered that he had the perfect plan all along. McKenna’s four-point plan.
Step one: Make contact. He’d texted and tried to call, but those attempts, too, had gone unanswered.
Since Beckett had recently learned that one needed to be adaptable when plans change, he had decided to skip straight to step two. A face-to-face meeting. And if she wasn’t going to answer her front door, then he would go to where a lock wouldn’t stand in his way.
He sucked in a breath and smoothed his hands down the front of his tuxedo before he raised his hand to knock. Once. Twice.
The door swung open and McKenna’s smiling face turned to shocked stone when she saw it was him. “Beckett. Hi.”
“Hi, McKenna.” Seeing her was enough to ease the ache in his chest that had grown each day they’d been separated by his stupidity. “I’ve been practicing my return greetings.”
“No grunting. Very well done.” A shy smile started to blossom, but she pressed her lips into a line as though remembering that she was supposed to be angry with him. “What can I do for you?”
“Would it sound horribly repetitive if I said we need to talk, again?”
She peered out of the room and looked down the hallway. “I don’t know if this is the best time. I’m working.”
“I have permission from the bride. Well, not permission so much as a direct order.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sucked in a breath. “Okay, fine. But the second anyone else comes in, you’ll need to leave.”
He pressed a hand to his chest. “I solemnly promise not to get in the way of your makeup magic.”
She shut the door behind them and clasped her hands in front of her. Like the last time he’d seen her, she was dressed in black from head to toe. It made her purple hair and hot-pink lipstick look neon against the dark canvas. When she blinked, little flashes of silver beckoned him closer. God, she was so beautiful.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked. She shifted from one booted foot to the other, her breath choppy and shallow. “Do I need to sit?”
“Well, the plan only says that I need a face-to-face meeting, it didn’t mention whether it should be sitting or standing.” He pulled out the printed email and showed it to her. “See, I’m up to step two.”
“You skipped step one,” she said. It was hard to tell whether she was playing along because she wanted to talk to him. Her usual spark was hiding behind an impassive, neutral expression that told him absolutely nothing.
“I attempted step one.” He raked a hand through his hair, trying to remember all the things he’d planned to say. But words vanished around her, because they didn’t feel important. The thunderous beating in his chest, the fire burning in his blood, the itch in his palms that compelled him to reach out to her—those were important. “So, according to this plan, step three is ‘give her a chance to have her say.’ Apparently, it will be natural for me to want to defend myself but this is her time to air her concerns.”
“I wrote that, huh?” She studied him, her arms folded across her chest. The defensive position wasn’t a great sign, but there was a softening in her face. A slight dimple in her cheek that hinted a smile might be close. “Too bad you’re using it on the wrong girl.”
“I’m not, McKenna. The only thing that’s wrong about this situation is that I didn’t figure it out sooner.” He dropped the piece of paper onto the desk that had her brushes neatly laid out.
“Figure out what?” Her eyes tracked him as he moved forward, darting back and forth as if she were assessing her risk. Assessing whether she should run.
This was the bit he couldn’t seem to work out. The right words to say, ones that would adequately express all the new and confusing things he felt. His insides were tangled up, like a bunch of wires. But that didn’t sound right. His heart was like a sledgehammer pounding through a wall. But that wasn’t right, either.
He wanted to say something profound and important and insightful. Something that would show her he regretted every moment that he’d been running in the wrong direction. Every second he’d wasted chasing after the wrong thing in life, hurting her in the process.
“I care about you,” he said eventually. “I care about you more than I feel is logical.”
Her lip quivered. “You care about me? How? In what way? More than you feel is logical…what does that even mean?”
“It means I don’t understand it. But I feel it.” He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “I don’t have flowery descriptions, but I know not being with you made me more miserable than anything else I’ve ever experienced.”
“Really?” Her eyes shimmered as she looked up, meeting his gaze head-on in a way that made him feel like he’d been struck by lightning. The power of it was like a sign. This was where he belonged. With her. Talking to her. Feeling out of his comfort zone with her.
“That day you knocked on my door changed everything,” he said. “You changed me.”
…
McKenna was worried about the very real possibility of her fainting for a second time in Beckett’s presence. This time she didn’t need the sight of blood, the feeling of it leaving her head was reason enough. Because she wanted so hard to believe he was the right man for her—that he did care for her in a way that was more than friendship. That they were more than people who waved in the hallway. Who said hello in the mailroom.
She wanted it all with Beckett—all the things she’d dared not wish for because she thought she’d never be good enough. But he was the one who’d told her she didn’t need anyone’s validation to know that. Not her boss’s, not her family’s.
Not even his.
“You’ve changed me, too,” she said. “I’m not scared to aim high anymore. I’m not afraid to go after what I deserve instead of settling.”
Heat simmered in his blue gaze. Against the stark black-and-white tux, they gleamed like jewels. A perfect marriage of turquoise and teal. Vibrant. Intense. But it was the feeling behind them that got her this time. He’d lost his wall, that impenetrable mask that had always kept her at arm’s length. Now emotion rolled over his face like clouds blowing on the wind. He was letting her see everything. Laying himself bare.
“Good.” He nodded. “I want you to have it all.”
“So you broke things off for good?” she asked after a heartbeat or two. She had to know, because this time she wouldn’t deal with the uncertainty. The doubt.
“I did.”
“What about your business?”
“I went back to the venture capital firm and I agreed to their conditions.” He nodded slowly, as though he were still coming to terms with his decision. “I’ve agreed to some of the changes they want, negotiated a few more.”
“And their cut?”
“The same as they offered me before.”
“But that’s not what you wanted?” Despite it all, she felt bad knowing how much power he’d given up. Whereas Lionus Aldridge would have given him free reign, working with a venture capital firm meant being held to constraints. Conditions. Losing control.
“No, but I’ll make it work. It’s a compromise, but it means that I can have the other things I want.” He reached for her hand, his grip warm and secure. “It means I get to be here, asking you to forgive me for being a blind idiot.”
“Technically, you haven’t asked yet,” she said, smirking.
“McKenna Prescott, will you forgive me for being so stupid and rigid that I almost threw away what will surely be the very best thing in my life?”
His words were like a strike to her heart. “Wow,” she breathed. “When you do say something, it’s worth the wait.”
“Well?”
“I forgive you.” She stepped closer and pressed her palms to his chest, breathing in the scent of rain on his hair and the faded cologne on his skin. “See, told you the plan would work.”
“I have one more step.” He brought his lips down to hers in a probing kiss, soft and yet desperately raw. Her fists curled into his shirt, tugging him closer. “Step four.”
“Make a commitment,” she whispered, remembering the hollowed-out feeling plaguing her as she’d typed that email. If only she’d known it would bring him back to her. “It needs to be concrete.”
“I promise that I’ll do everything to make you feel like you’re my top priority at all times. I promise to spend time with you, to communicate with you, and to always accept your mail, even if it’s really weird.”
A laugh burst forth, and she shook her head. “Don’t you knock Mr. Whopper. He’s the reason we’re together now.”
“Tell him he’s been replaced.” Beckett’s teeth nipped at her ear. “You’ve traded him in for the real thing.”
Beckett backed her up against the door, his hips pinning her.
“Don’t mess up my makeup,” she said. “I’m supposed to look professional.”
He planted a hand by her head, bringing his lips down to her neck. “There’s no makeup here.”
She moaned and let her head fall back against the door while he feasted on her. She couldn’t wait for the wedding to be over, so they could finish what he’d started. Something told her that she wouldn’t mind Beckett grunting in that scenario.
As he popped the buttons on her blouse, his lips chasing her exposed skin, McKenna sighed. The sounds of the old building came alive in their silence, broken only by his moan as his lips reached the edge of her bra. Sure, it wasn’t a word but she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing it.
“Maybe we should come up with a new story on how we met,” she said, her eyes flittering shut as his palm cupped her breast. “You know, in case we do need to explain it to your family. Or mine. Oh God, what if my mother—”
“Shhh.” He placed a finger over her lips. “We’ve got twenty minutes, max. Let’s not waste it talking.”
She could be quiet for now. But the second she got Beckett back to her place, she was going to scream every word she knew, starting with yes.