Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
A small-town girl I’d never be.
“You’re going to be happy here?” It was like Elliot could read my mind. I looked around the house, at my books on his cluttered shelves, my martini glasses on his small bar. Elliot seated across from me.
“As long as a double sink and walk-in closet are installed in a timely manner,” I joked.
Elliot didn’t smile.
He was truly worried. It was rare to see a lapse in Elliot’s trademark confidence, but it was there.
He happily took me when I reached out to climb onto his lap. “Elliot Shaw, the man who orders me to my knees, who fucks me like a stallion, who got me on a boat, who makes a mean lobster roll—better than his brother’s,” I winked. “You make me happier than I thought I was capable of. So yes, I think I’m going to be happy as your wife. As long as you promise to fuck me like a stallion till the end of my days.”
His grip tightened as he ground me against his rapidly hardening cock.
“Oh, I think I can do that.” His lips claimed mine.
Even though it took great effort, I pulled myself back. “Are you going to be happy with me? I’ll never be a traditional wife. The only time I’ll submit to you is when I get an orgasm out of it, I don’t cook, I can’t bear you children.”
Although I had little reason to doubt Elliot’s feelings toward me, I couldn’t help the sliver that crept in. As it often did when I thought too hard about how I’d marred Elliot’s life with my sins, my barren womb, sharp tongue, and my U-Haul of emotional baggage.
“Calliope Derrick.” His hand bit into my hip, the other cupping my jaw. “You’re the most powerful person I know. You get on your knees for me, you rescue kittens, you are fierce, you love like no one else I’ve known, your smile is rare but worth a trillion dollars. Yes, fuck I’ll be happy with you till my dying days.” He stood, holding both of us.
I’d anticipated wrapping my legs around him, but he set me down.
“Now get on your fucking knees,” he growled.
I licked my lips.
He’d just said a lot of wonderful things.
Who was I to argue?
I got on my fucking knees.
Happy endings, I found, were much too simple. Tied everything off in a neat little bow. They created unrealistic expectations for everyone involved, especially women. The only end in life that served to be final and concrete was death.
Everything else was followed by unpredictable messiness afterward.
I was happy. As much as someone like me could be. But I wasn’t under any illusions that it would stay that way. I self-sabotaged by nature. But I also knew Elliot wasn’t going to let me sabotage us.
He’d fight for me. With me. For us. To the end.
And I’d been so sure the whole ‘till death do us part’ thing was a load of shit. But I wouldn’t accept the grave unless I was still wearing Elliot’s ring, unless my life had been filled with him.
“Do you, Calliope Derrick, take Elliot Shaw to be your lawfully wedded husband, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?” Kip asked, a smile on his handsome face.
I ignored him and looked into the endless eyes of the man I’d come to love. Who was my anchor to a life I was starting to believe I deserved.
“I do,” I whispered.
ELLIOT
“She wore white.” Beau sucked at the cigar we were sharing on the balcony.
Below us, the party raged on, music thumping, children running around, Clara hand in hand with Calliope—my wife—both grinning from ear to ear.
Calliope would not even schedule the wedding until she was sure Clara’s immune system was strong enough to handle being out and around so many people.
Then she’d got second and third opinions on that, offending countless Ivy League-educated doctors. I’d waited for Beau to get annoyed at Calliope—my fucking wife—for interfering with Clara’s care. But to my immense surprise, he’d let Calliope make the calls. He’d even gone to the appointments, letting Calliope foot the bills.
Though I shouldn’t have been surprised, Beau’s main priority was his daughter’s health. And to my immense surprise, my brother and my wife had almost become … friends?
“It’s a wedding,” I reminded my brother. “It’s her wedding. Why wouldn’t she wear white?”
My brother took a long inhale of his cigar before turning to give me a pointed look.
I laughed. Maybe it surprised my brother and everyone else at the ceremony that Calliope wore white, that she was even getting fucking married, but not me.
Nothing surprised me when it came to Calliope because I knew she was capable of anything.
My eyes found her again, unable to leave her for more than a few moments. Even being up here, out of touching distance, was causing my fingers to itch. But a cigar with my brother was something I could manage on my wedding day. My father would’ve joined us had he not been on the dance floor.