“You’re going to make us late!” I complained. I’d strived to have Iain packed up and in his car seat so that we’d be on time. I hated being the last one to walk through the door of a party. Tate was having his annual summer bash. Everyone was invited, even Bratty Mattie.
“I need these papers so I can tie up everything with the house and Gram’s will,” Jake explained, rifling through the hutch. “Just go. We’ll be right behind you.”
“Did you check the safe?”
Jake looked up from behind the cabinet door. “What safe?”
“The one under the bathtub.”
“I didn’t know Gram had a safe.”
“I don't know that she does either,” I admitted. “But the night she visited me in the hospital, she t-told me t-to t-tell you the papers were in the safe under the bathtub.”
Jake frowned. “She didn't visit you in the hospital, Mattie.”
I shrugged, choosing to believe the unbelievable. “Go look.”
“Fuck it.” Interest piqued, Carter headed toward the bedroom. “I’m going to look.”
“Shit.” Standing, Jake brushed himself off and followed. “He’s going to demolish the plumbing. The only constructive bone in his body is the deconstructive one.”
Paisley and I trailed after them. Carter was already on the floor, pocket knife in hand. He ran it along four continuous tiles, in a large square. Then pushed the knife in and pried the panel away. Setting the panel off to the side, he stuck his arm into the space, patting around.
“Find anything?” Jake asked.
Another second passed before Carter’s face lit up. He ducked down, stuck his other hand into the hole, and extracted a small, white box. “Holy shit!”
“I don't believe it,” Jake exclaimed. “You must’ve heard her mention it before. There's no other explanation.” Because God forbid I was right. That would just blow his puny little brain.
“Puny?” Jake protested. “Just because I don't believe Gram came back and visited you from the grave doesn't make my brain small.”
Well, crap, had I said that aloud? “No, it just makes you close minded.”
“Not to interrupt,” Paisley interjected. “But who has the key?”
“There’s a key box in the kitchen,” Jake answered. It was an old cigar box that Gram threw all her extra keys into. Some were skeleton keys from the original locks on the house. Others were for the car or the mailbox. Most were useless.
Carter handed Jake the safe and followed him from the room. In the kitchen, Jake pulled the cigar box and began rummaging through the contents. Some keys had identification tags. We had no such luck. Jake started trying random keys until he found the correct one.
“The moment of truth,” he said as he opened the lid to the safe. I felt somewhat intrusive going through Gram’s personal belongings, but she had wanted us to find the thing. She’d known we’d need the contents, enough that she’d come back to make its whereabouts known.
From inside, Jake pulled a stack of envelopes. “I’ll be damned. They’re all here.” He rested the stack on his arm and began paging through them.
“Believe me now?” I asked, smugly.
“No.” About halfway through the pile of envelopes, Jake plucked two out. He passed the first to me, and the second to Carter.
“What’s this?” Carter wondered.
“You have as much of a clue as I do,” Jake replied. “But it has your name on it.”
“Open it,” I prompted. Curiosity was eating at me.
Carter stared at the envelope a moment longer, folded it in half, and stuffed it in his back pocket. “Later.”
“Come on!” I pleaded. Gram, my Gram, wrote him a letter and he wasn’t going to let me read it.
“It’s personal,” Carter refused, “and it was addressed to me.”
I gasped in indignation.
“Children,” Jake chided. “Play nice. Mattie, you have your own envelope to open.”
That, I did. It was thick. My guess was pictures.
Carter’s phone chirped. He pulled it from his pocket, swiped the screen. “We’re late, officially. Jess and Richard beat us to Tate’s house.”
Jake grabbed the safe from the counter and wedged it under his arm. “All right—let’s get this show on the road.”
As Carter reached down and loaded his arms with baby provisions, I eyed the envelope sticking out of his pocket. It taunted me even more than my own. I had to know what was inside. What could Gram have possibly had to say to him?
“You can try to filch it, but you know I’ll catch you. Even with my arms full.”
Pouting, I headed for the door.
“Forgetting something, Angel?”
Doubling back, I lifted the car seat from the floor, ignoring Carter’s amusement. Yes, in my single-mindedness, I’d forgotten Iain.
Carter headed toward the rear to put our bags into the cargo area, while I snapped the car seat into the base.
“We’ll catch you over there,” Jake called as they headed to their car. I waved absently, climbing into the passenger seat.
Trying to decide if I wanted to open my envelope was like asking whether I wanted to open a gift on Christmas Eve. There was no question about it. I pulled it from my purse. It didn't smell of Gram’s perfume or anything romantic like that. Though, Gram’s scrawl across the front did pluck at my heartstrings. It was new, crisp, white. It hadn’t been in the safe very long.
Sliding my finger under the seal, I pulled along the edge, ripping the envelope open. There were about a dozen photos inside, roughly. I pulled them out, turned them in my hand. The first was of me. It was flattering. I was young. Maybe ten. My hair was in a ponytail. Loose strands framed my face, which was flushed with sun. Pale freckles dotted my cheeks.
I flipped the photo to the back of the stack. The second was of me too. I was twelve in this photo. I remember because the band had played at my birthday party. Half my grade had come. My eyes were closed, my cheeks puffed out as I blew out the candles. Carter, himself, had taken the picture. He’d asked me afterward what I’d wished for. I promptly flushed with color and swore to take it to my grave.
“You never did tell me what you wished for,” Carter said. I looked up from the photo. He was sliding behind the wheel, staring over my shoulder.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.” I flipped to the next photo. It was another perfectly composed piece of art. Once again, I was the subject. As was the next, and the next, and so on. In each, I aged chronologically, six months, a year older. The last, I was eighteen, graduated. I was using my middle finger to shield my face from the click of the shutter.
“I understand the reason for the attitude now,” Carter mused.
“About four years late. Did you take all of these?” I held the pictures up in question. I knew he’d taken some of them. Carter’s phone was always in his hand. Not to mention, it was hard not to notice him snapping a picture of me when I was always watching him. But, surprisingly, I was unaware that I’d been the focus of his camera on this many occasions. “And how did my gram end up with them?”
“Yes, and I thought she might enjoy them.”
“Why?” Did he take them, I meant. I didn’t get it. They were intimate, not the average snapshot.
“Angel, I wasn’t completely blind,” Carter said as if I was dense. “You might’ve been off limits, but you were always beautiful.”
Cupping my chin, he tilted my head up to accept his kiss. Oh, could he kiss. He could make you feel like…well, weightless and reedy. Insubstantial. Reduced of emotion other than raw and wanton need. He made love to your mouth, took from it at his will.
Abandoning my lips, his teeth scraped my jaw, closed over it with a soft pinch. “Up for a redo of that morning in Missoula?” he said between nips. “I’ll do much better this time. Swear.”
Flattening my palm against his chest, I pushed him back in his seat. He grinned crookedly, reached down and pulled the lever, reclining the back as I threw my leg over the console and straddled his waist. “That morning was perfect until you shoved me out of the car.”
“Then there’s room for improvement in the after-sex cuddling.”
“You don’t cuddle. You collapse.”
“What can I say—I give it my all.” Sliding the thin strap of my dress over my shoulder, it puddled around my waist. “I think I really like this dress.” Staring up at me, he cupped my breasts, circled my nipples with his thumbs.
I moaned, putty under his hands. “I need you in me, Carter.”
“Always impatient.”
“I don’t care. When you kiss me, it’s all I think about.”
Laughing at me, Carter reached down and freed himself from his shorts. The head of his cock slipped against my entrance as he stroked himself. I angled my hips, hoping to guide him in.
“Not yet,” Carter chided. “Need to get a glove on first.”
“I don’t care,” I pouted. “I want it. Now.”
“We agreed on this. One year.” Reaching into the console, he fished around, scoring a string of condoms in gold foil.
I didn’t remember agreeing to one year, but it was a shadow in the background of my mind. I was in need, a raw, physical need that could only be relieved by his cock.
Swearing, Carter pinched the tip and rolled the condom on. “Come here, Angel.” As he positioned himself, I guided my hips down until he was nudging into my entrance. He grasped my hips, bracing me as he thrust his hips upward.
My body exploded with pleasure. Goosebumps rose across my skin. I mewled, fucking mewled. I didn’t even have the dignity to be embarrassed. That was the effect he had on me.
Part of me had the pleasure of knowing he was just as lost as I was. He didn’t bother with foreplay. We’d barely started, and he was racing toward the end. Slipping my hand between my thighs, I worked on my own release, massaging my clit between my fingers.
My breath became labored, coming out in faint moans. Carter increased his pace, his fingertips digging into my hips. Heat rushed to my groin, burgeoned in pressure. “Oh God! Carter!”
Carter growled, spurred by my approaching orgasm. His pace changed. Gone was the fevered rhythm, replaced by determined thrusts. Each resounded with a staccato clap of flesh.
“Fuck, Angel!” Drawing me toward him, he stretched his neck and pulled my nipple into his mouth, sending me over the edge. Ladies first. He always kept his word. Seeing that I was taken care of, he thrust once, twice more, and reached his own peak. Several well-versed curses hissed between his teeth. For a moment we didn’t move, remaining still except for our panting.
“Is it always this encompassing?” I wondered.
Carter laughed. “No.”
“Do you think it’ll ever fade?” I’d seen it in movies, but not having parents, it was difficult to tell. I couldn't imagine not wanting him this much. I'd already wanted him half my life.
“I hope the fuck not.”
“Me t-too.” Laughing, I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead. The air was on, but apparently sex was a great callisthenic. The late July humidity didn’t help.
“Do you want to run inside and clean up?”
I peeked at the car seat. Iain was still sleeping from what I could tell. “I'll just be a minute.” I pressed a kiss to Carter’s lips. It was meant to be a quick peck, but Carter had a different mind. He lured me into a more profound, though brief venture filled with knee deep emotion. No, I could fathom ever tiring of his affection. Not in a million years.
“I love you, Angel.”
I smiled back, steeped in the euphoria of his words. “I love you, too.”
“Go on. Everyone will wonder what we were up to.” He clapped my ass with his palm, making me jump.
“They'll assume anyhow.” Threading the straps of my dress over my shoulders, I climbed off his lap and over the console. Photographs littered the floor. I was careful not to tread on them as I pushed the door open and slid out.
Quickly, I picked the photos up and sat them on the seat. Then, I hurried into the house. We were running late, and I wanted to see Em. More importantly, Sophia Isabella. Em had spent a week visiting her at the foster home, getting to know her. And last week she’d brought her home. She wanted a solid week alone to bond with her before she tossed her into our crazy world. Today was that day. We were going to welcome her to the Hautboy family. Tate had even moved the date for the picnic to accommodate the event.
Trotting through the kitchen, I reset the alarm and ran out the back door. Carter was just stuffing his letter back into the envelope as I opened the door to the car. I picked the pictures up as I climbed into the seat. “What did it say—or aren't you going to tell me?”
In answer, he held up his hand. There was a ring pinched between his fingers. “Apparently there's another ring belonging to your family. This one hailed from your father’s side.”
It was god awful ugly. It looked like a molar, a big yellow molar set in gold. It might've been an opal of some sort. I wasn't sure.
Unbeknownst to my taste, Carter leaned closer to me. The ring perched in his fingers before my face. “Marry me.”
“What?” It was joke. He had to be kidding.
Laughing, he turned the ring in his fingers. “Marry me.”
My face fell, the draw of my mouth unbearably heavy. “That's not f-ff-funny.”
“Angel, I'm asking you to be my wife.”
“You're serious.” He really was. God help me—I was going to be stuck with a molar on my finger because there was no way I was going to say no.
“I'm starting to worry here,” he pressed. “I really didn't think you'd have to consider it.”
“Yes.”
Smiling widely, he grasped my hand and slid the ring onto my finger. “Look at that! It fits perfectly!”
“It's uh…” I searched for something nice to say, found nothing. “It’s absolutely priceless.”
“It's a paste stone, whatever that is. Gram said it's not worth a lot, but you'd love it because it was heirloom.”
Gram was wise, but also had a really wicked sense of humor. She was probably watching down over us right now, having herself a good laugh.
Whatever. Fuck the ring. Carter just asked me to marry him. As reality set in and shock wore off, my eyes filled with tears. I covered my mouth while I stared at the ring. I could still feel the touch of his hand from sliding the ring onto my finger.
“What's wrong?” Carter asked, dumbfounded. “It's the ring—you really hate it, don't you?”
I laughed, thick with tears. “I do hate the ring, but I love it at the same t-time.”
“Is it too soon? I know it was a little impulsive, but…”
I grasped his hand, stopping him short. He looked vulnerable, if that was possible. Carter was an antonym for defenseless, so his uncertainty was saying a lot. “You're everything I ever wanted, Carter. I love you.”
Relieved, a lazy smile spread across his face. “I’m going to make you happy, Angel.”
“You already have.”
“You’re being generous. I’ve barely made up for screwing up so bad. You shouldn’t have let me off so easily.”
“I’ve acted badly myself.”
“Just saying—I’m going to spoil you.”
“Why do I f-feel like I should be afraid?”
“Because I don’t do anything quietly.”
“Right.”
Shifting the car into drive, Carter coasted up the driveway. I sat quietly, agonizing over what he could have planned. Nothing too over the top. I’d only been in the house a few minutes. What could he have possibly contrived in that short amount of time? I glanced at my ring again. Stupid question. Carter was adept at performing the impossible.
“You’re being quiet.” Draping his left hand over the steering wheel, he grasped my hand in his right. “Did you envision something different? I disappointed you, didn't I?”
“I had a million proposals envisioned,” I admitted, “but nothing compared t-to yours. I wouldn't change it f-for the world.” Carter spared a glance in my direction before turning back to the road.
“Really?”
“It was spontaneous, Carter. It meant more than anything planned with weeks of preparation.”
Lifting my hand to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to it. “We’ll do whatever you want for the wedding. You want a big event; we’ll spare no expense.”
“I don’t need a big wedding.” Jake was my only family. Gram was gone. I had a few friends from college, but they always got weird when Jake came around, let alone the entire band. I wanted the day to be about the two of us. Just something private and quaint.
“Just the gang then?”
“Are we seriously planning this now?” I inquired, laughing.
“What…?” Carter objected, defensively. “I thought girls went crazy for this shit! You're not saying anything! It makes me nervous.”
“I'm happy, Carter. It’s just…”
“You're afraid if you talk about it, it won't come true?” Grinning widely, he glanced at me again, looking for confirmation that his hunch was correct.
“I will neither confirm nor deny.” I wasn't ruining my one chance at happiness because I, after a decade’s worth of cakes and candles, revealed my one and only birthday wish.
“Oh my god, I’m right!” Cackling ensued, clearly pleased with himself.
“Can I just absorb this single moment before jumping into wedding planning?” I pleaded. “I want to remember everything, every little detail f-f-from the smell of your cologne to the emotions running through me. This only happens once.”
“Why can’t I bask a little? It’s not every day I’m someone’s birthday wish.”
“Oh puleeze—you’re every girl’s birthday wish. Not that I’m saying you were my birthday wish. I’m just reasserting that I’m not the only girl t-to f-fawn over you.”
“What if I bask quietly?”
“You don’t do anything quietly,” I reminded him. We drove not a half mile before he started humming the birthday song. “Carter!” I shouted, pulling my hand from his.
“I’m sorry!”
“You’re not sorry! You’re laughing!”
“I’ll stop! Swear!” The fool covered his mouth, hiding his smile, oblivious that his crow’s feet were betraying his efforts. “Just give me a minute to compose myself.”
“You’re an idiot.” Rummaging through my bag, I fished out a pack of gum from the bottom. It was necessary to refrain from grinding my teeth.
“Can I ask one question first?” he inquired. “Please? Just one.”
“And then you’ll leave me in peace so I can wrap my mind around this?”
“Swear.”
“Ok. Fffine,” I allowed. “One question.”
“You want something small and intimate, right?”
“Carter!” I threw my hands up in the air, exasperated. “Yes—ok—something small—just the gang! I don’t need a large, f-flashy wedding with a million photographers commemorating the event! I don’t need a dozen bridesmaids or groomsmen! Just you and me! Ok?”
“Ok.”
“I’d like t-to pick out the wedding band,” I amended. If I was lucky, I’d find something big enough that I’d have an excuse to why I couldn’t wear the molar along with it.
“You’re firm on that?”
“Immovable.”
Carter turned his head back to the road, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “A simple yes or no would have sufficed.”
A smile snaked across my face. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” I admitted. “You’re pressuring me. I snap when I’m being pressured. This is a lot t-to t-take in. Everything f-feels…surreal. You can’t be blind to someone your whole life and not be overwhelmed when he asks you t-to marry him.”
Carter coasted to a stop, despite being a few feet shy of Tate’s driveway. “Do you trust me, Angel?”
I looked up, met his eyes. “With my life.”
Carter leaned over and kissed me. “Let’s not test that, ok? Once is enough.” Pressing the gas, he approached the gate and gave the horn a honk. The gates swung open with a yawning sweep. We pulled around the driveway, parked at the only open space available.
I slid out of the car, unbuckled Iain—and Brutus—from his car seat while Carter got the bag and playpen from the trunk. As I rounded the car, though, he was waiting empty-handed. “What about the stuff?” I asked.
“I’ll come back for it.” He held his hand out. “We won't need it right away. Once Jess takes him from you, she isn’t likely to put him down.”
Taking his hand, I let him lead me around the side of the house. Voices, young and old, echoed from the yard. Music blasted from the speakers. The smell of barbecue hung in the air.
It wasn’t the first time the band had seen us together, but it was the first time we were arriving together as a couple. I was somewhat self-conscious beneath my waning shock. As soon as Jess spotted us, she rose from her chair and intercepted us at the gate.
“We came from Pennsylvania and we still beat you here,” Jess quipped. Reaching, she waited for my assent before stealing my security blanket from me. I was left with Brutus, who wasn't much of anything. “What took you so long?”
“We forgot something at the house,” Carter explained. “Had to run back inside.”
Jess looked at him, her expression calling bullshit. “Is that why your zipper’s down?”
Smiling crookedly, Carter checked his zipper. “It is not.”
“Come here, idiot.” Jess beckoned him forward with a curl of her fingers. “You have something on your face.” Reaching up, she rubbed at the corner of his mouth.
“What is it?”
“Guilt.”
Yet it was my face that flushed ten shades of red.
Rolling his eyes, Carter knocked her hand away. “Everyone here?”
“Now that you're here.” Carter tugged my hand, leading me through the gate. Jess followed us through, but circled around us as we paused to take in the scene.
Shane had Sophia in the pool. She was giggling, but clinging to him like a baby monkey. Levi wasn't far away, paddling with only his floaties. Tate stood off to the side in the shade, chatting with Jake, Paisley, Peter, and Jaxon. Em and Coop were oddly missing, but knowing Em, she was likely inside prepping lunch, and Coop was probably with the twins.
“Come here, Angel.” Bending his knees, Carter wrapped his arms around my thighs and lifted me off the ground.
“What’re you doing?” I gasped, grabbing his head to keep my balance.
“Watch the hair!”
“Carter!”
He took a step to the right, lifted me a little higher. Something solid scraped the bottom of my feet. “Stand up, Angel!” Carter laughed. “Let go of my hair!”
“I’m going to f-fall!”
“You’re not going to fall! Stand up!” Testing my balance, I let go of his hair and straightened my back. I was atop the stone wall lining the patio. Carter planted one hand on the wall and vaulted up beside me. He made it look effortless, even with only one leg. Taking my hand in his, he let out a strident whistle, gathering everyone’s attention. What eyes weren't already on us, turned in our direction. My face flushed with a fresh burst of color.
“Today—despite all the obstacles we’ve faced—and overcome—I have the honor to say that Miss Matilda Mae Whalen has agreed to be my wife.”
Cheers and applause echoed across the yard. Everyone began rounding the pool to offer their congratulations. Carter pulled me against him, dipped his head for a kiss. When our lips parted again, his eyes were bright with excitement. “This is just the beginning, Angel.”
Considering our recent engagement, one would assume he was referring to our lives together, but I knew Carter, and his tone was pregnant with mischief.
I had a feeling I was going to need that molar on my finger at the rate I was grinding my teeth. I was never one for surprises.