“What happened here?”
Lifting, I gaze down at him apprehensively, not wanting to alter the calm in his expression. Sitting, I pull a pillow onto my naked lap. “If I tell you, you can’t freak out and get all…well, you—or use it against me in the future to fuel your paranoia.”
“That’s a lot of demands,” his grin disappears, and his stare hardens slightly. “Did someone hurt you? If so, all fucking bets are off.”
I shake my head. “There he is, the paleolithic man I married.”
“And will be marrying again in the very near future.”
“Just give me the date and time.”
He again runs the pad of his finger across my scar. “Answer me. Did someone hurt you?”
“Just the opposite, someone saved me.” I caress his jaw as he draws his brows. “Actually, it was the damn ding, ding, ding from my Prince Phillip.”
“Baby, you good?” He scrutinizes me, “Did I fuck you too hard? Did you hit your head on the board?”
Hello, Easton’s sexy as fuck half-grin. God, how I’ve missed you.
“And who the hell is Prince Phillip?” He bites out. “The English Queen’s deceased husband is haunting you?”
“No, you dope. Prince Phillip is the Disney prince who kissed Sleeping Beauty awake.” Unable to help myself, I bend down and kiss his twisted lips. “It was you, Easton. It was you who saved me with your constant reminders to buckle up. Your droning eventually led me to a state where every time it went off, all I heard was you bickering with me to put on my seatbelt.” I grab his hand and turn it over on the pillow on my lap, running my fingers along his palm. “That day, you won the argument that saved my life.”
All traces of his smile disappear. “You were in a wreck?”
I nod. “My Prius didn’t make it, but the State Trooper said I wouldn’t have either, if I didn’t have my seatbelt on. It was raining pretty hard, and I was in a hurry.”
“To get to where?”
“That’s the worst part.”
“Out with it, Natalie.”
“Well, I was rushing toward the airport because I had just maxed out my AmEx again. I was on my way to Stockholm.”
He gapes at me. “To my last concert?”
I nod.
“Baby,” he hangs his head, his tone both mournful and irritated. “Why, why, fucking why didn’t you call me?”
“Because it was my turn for a grand gesture. Jesus, Easton. After all we’d been through, I wanted to do what you’d done for me every single time. You deserved it. I had no idea what the reception would be, but when I finally convinced myself to just fucking do it, to show up and go for broke, I decided I didn’t want to wait for your tour to end. On the way, I got in the wreck, and it stalled me from getting to you. And then you were home and—”
“And dating Misty,” he adds. “Fuck.”
“I hate that part of it,” I whisper as I trace his lips. “I’d already wasted too much time, and I knew it, but I was always, always coming to you. You should know by now, even when we were apart, you’ve always been with me.” His eyes shine with emotion. “You’re so much a part of me—it’s unreal.”
He grips my hand and presses a delicate kiss to the back of it. “I know exactly what you mean. You asked me once when I knew I loved you.” He takes my finger and runs it along the loop in his Chihuly tattoo. “Well, this loop represents you, literally, figuratively, and poetically, but crazier than that, predictively—because fuck, reckless and na?ve—we’re the definition of insanity. But I’ll take insanity any day. I’ll relive it with you on loop.”
“You’re turning me on with that witty word usage, Crowne.”
“Do you want your answer or not?”
“Of course.”
He smirks, “I still don’t know.”
“Seriously?” I grumble. “That’s not an answer.”
“But I can tell you it was somewhere between you stalking into that bar dressed in your entire suitcase and my decision to alter the tattoo. So, when did I know I loved you? Somewhere in the first few days. But I can tell you for certain when I knew I wanted to marry you…and it was when your plane taxied away from me in Dallas.” He lifts my empty left hand, his expression darkening. “We never should have gotten divorced.”
Expression turning thoughtful, he stands in naked glory and stalks over to a dresser pulling out the ring he proposed to me with on stage before slipping back in bed.
“Beauty…” he says softly.
“It’s not even a question you need to ask again, Easton,” I say as he lifts his jade gaze and slides the ring back on my finger. Eyes watering, I gaze down at it with reverence. “Easton, I swear—”
“No, baby, no more promises,” he says, gripping the back of my neck.
I frown. “You don’t think we’re capable of keeping them?”
“I think we wasted too much time worrying about them to just be,” he murmurs. “We’ll make more on our next wedding day.”
I can’t help my smile. “So, we’re doing it again?”
“Hell yes, we are. This time, you’re planning it.”
“Our first one was perfect,” I sigh.
“It was. You have your work cut out for you,” he boasts as he dips to kiss me and jerks back suddenly. “Oh, and just so you fucking know, the second we leave Mexico, our life starts together. I don’t care if all four of our parents show up with the fucking cartel behind them for backup. We’re leaving on a plane—together.”
“Fine by me, Mr. Crowne, but I sincerely hope you’re okay with the destination and being covered in sweat three steps outside your front door while inhaling a good whiff of steamed-up cow shit.”
“Really?” He curls his lip at the idea, and I giggle at his reaction before he shrugs. Kissing my ring first, he begins to wordlessly express his love for me with his lips. Just as we start to lose ourselves, my phone vibrates on the nightstand, drawing our attention to it as we both turn our heads. I glance down at Easton, who’s kept us both unplugged since we entered the suite.
“Let me check it, Easton.”
“Just…wait,” he says, running the pad of his finger along my scar.
“We have to eventually acknowledge them,” I say, reaching over to grab my phone. “The last text I sent my dad was a heart eyes emoji and a thumbs up. It’s a pretty asshole move, considering the state I was in on the phone.”
“’K, baby,” he whispers, releasing me as I turn and lift my phone, seeing a missed text notification from my father.
“Is it Nate?” He asks from where he lays, his focus trained on the ceiling, voice laced with a tinge of apprehension.
“Yeah, it is. But I told you what he said.”
He nods, that reminder doing little to ease his mind as he turns on his side, propping his head in his hand while I open the message and scan the text. “What is he saying?”
Beaming, I turn to him, lowering the cell to his line of sight so he can read it for himself.
Daddy: All your mother and I ask is that you please not marry him again before leaving Mexico. We’d like to attend at least ONE of your weddings.
It’s the first time my dad makes Easton laugh.
Memory Lane
Haley Joelle
Nate
Six months later…
The door opens to the bathroom as I secure my cufflinks and pull my jacket down.
“Can you zip me?” Addie asks as I turn to see my wife holding the top of her long, navy silk gown to her chest. It flows over her porcelain skin, perfectly accentuating her figure. With her glossy dark hair secured on top of her head, tendrils of flyaway curls already coming loose—just the way I like them. The floating diamond I gave her on our tenth-anniversary sparkles on her chest, next to the diamond on her left hand, which glints against the material. A diamond I gifted her on our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. She lifts a brow at my reaction to her half-dressed, half-accessible body and does her best to hide her smile.
“Not bad for an old lady?” She asks, wrinkling her nose.