Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (44 page)

“No argument there.” I stood, examining my own self in the mirror as well. My suit was identical to his, except my tie was sea green. I’d struggled all morning to contain my cowlick, but the damn thing kept popping up. I shrugged, as good as I was going to get. After all, it wasn’t my wedding. I was just the best man.

He took a deep strangled breath. “Have you talked to Hillary?”

I walked over to the couch in the hotel room and sat, giving my leg a break. Five years later and it still acted up on off days. I could run five miles before the pressure got too much. I could only chase Aubrey and DJ around for so long before I had to sit down. Having a one-year-old who had just discovered the wonderful world of walking was a beautiful, terrifying thing when your wounds would never fully heal.

“This morning. She told me all the nasty things Harley did at her bachelorette party last night. Even took pictures.”

He didn’t react. Harley would never cheat on Bach. It amazed me sometimes how perfect I thought they were for each other. That I’d spent so much time feeling betrayed made me intensely embarrassed when I thought back all those years. Bach and Harley were my best friends. They were there for every moment, every tear, every smile, and every fight. We were a family like I’d always wanted growing up.

“Harley won’t answer my calls.”

I looked down at my Tom Ford’s, a gift from Nena, and tried not to roll my eyes. “She’s fine, bro. I heard her yelling at Aubrey about eating in her dress.”

His reaction this time was relief. “Her wedding rules are ridiculous. We haven’t had sex in six months.”

“Try having a baby around. I can’t even think about sex before DJ starts to cry or Aubrey wants to play the piano.”

But we both smiled because Aubrey was freakishly intelligent and picked up on the piano effortlessly. A second grader who could play the piano but refused to learn to tie her shoes.

“Married life,” he supplied, smiling like a douche. “Can’t wait for that woman to be my wife.”

I looked down at my black band on my ring finger. “Why’d you wait so long? Hillary and I’ve been married for two years already.”

“Harley was busy opening her youth club. I was busy taking over the dealership in Houston. You and Hill stole the light with your wedding and then she had little DJ. I just wanted to make sure Harley had the time to be the princess she is.”

“Kids? Aubrey’s still waiting for that sister. The other day she put barrettes all over DJ’s hair and made him wear Hill’s high heels. The damn kid loved it.”

His chuckle mirrored my own. “Crazy how much he looks like my dad.” The smile on his face faded.

It was true. DJ had the dark brown hair and sea green eyes of a Bachmen thanks to Hillary’s DNA, but he was a Meyer. A good, untainted being who smiled like the world was made of light and giggled like nothing would ever make him stop. He was my first son, and I’d do everything in my power to make sure he was better than me in every way.

“No frowning today. You’re getting married. And since you pussied out about the bachelor party the least you can do is smile.”

“I’m smiling.” But he didn’t. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“Harley wanted to wait six months so her birth control could wear off. She wants to get pregnant on the honeymoon.” Terror shimmered in his eyes.

“Bach.” I shook my head at my best-friend, guessing his thoughts. “You’re going to make a kickass father. You helped raise Aubrey, and you’re around DJ all the time. I get why you’re afraid. I was afraid too. How could we raise kids? But we’re doing it. We did it. Harley wouldn’t let you fail anyway.”

He turned away, but not before I caught the relief flash in his eyes. He glanced at his watch and then nodded, grabbing his cell phone and keys off the dresser. “Let’s go. Time to make Harley a Bachmen.”

The drive to the chapel was quiet except one conversation. “There’s some champagne in the fridge,” he offered.

I shook my head. “Hill will smell it on me. She has a thing against alcohol,” I hinted, knowing he’d get it.

Five years wasn’t a long time to shed your nightmares, but Hillary had gone almost a year without having one. I had this feeling it was because of our son, Dylan Junior. I fought her for another name, any other name. But she wanted to name him, “After the strongest person I know.” And Hillary Meyer always got what she wanted from me. She got a degree in nursing. She took care of people for a living. She got the small wedding in Nena’s backyard she craved. She even got a cobalt blue paint job on her new car. Bought and paid for by her. I smiled at her, recalling how proud she was to get her nursing degree. She stood by me during my nightmares, during my career change, didn’t question me when I wanted to be a stay-at-home father. I wanted to be there for Dylan the way I hadn’t for Aubrey. Thankfully she was too young to fully remember, but she sometimes hugged me so hard I got the impression she did, so I’d hug her harder and whisper my promise,
“I’ll never let you go.”

“We’re supposed to go in through the side door,” I informed Bach, who was waiting for me to get out of the limo. My leg acted up, and I gritted my teeth against the pain, struggling to stand. When Bach gave me his hand I was grateful.

He slowed his pace to keep up with mine along the stone walkway. The chapel was pristine and white, glowing along with the sun. It was small and quaint, a find in Houston. Harley had done some work here for the homeless youth and had fallen in love with the place, much to Nena’s displeasure. She wanted a big wedding on her property, not a small wedding so far away.

We both entered to find the church in disarray. Chaotic pre-wedding activities. Flowers and music, people scrambling. When Bach came in a few squeaked, speeding up their flurried movements.

“Back door, Mr. Bachmen,” A wide-eyed girl instructed, staring at Bach like he was going to change his mind and marry her as she opened the door for us.

“I do love the back door,” I muttered under my breath.

“Not with my sister, of course.”

“Actually yeah. Her tight little ass begs for it.” Before I could duck his blow, it landed on my chest, taking my breath away. While I struggled to maintain my breath, he went over to the bar and grabbed himself a bottle of water. “Begs,” I repeated.

Sex with Hillary was something I lived for. A private moment with my wife for us lose ourselves in. When we were together, her body beneath mine and her moans in my ears, it was just us, two people who would forever find comfort within the other. I missed it so much my chest hurt past the pain Bach caused me. The confusing part was things hadn’t been bad. Things had been …
perfect
. The day I promised Hillary forever a peace slid over me. Everything had been effortless. Loving her, co-parenting Aubrey with Whitney, working at the dealership while she got her nursing degree, having Dylan—these things weren’t hard. They were everything I lived for. But I would be lying if I didn’t want one night with my wife to give free the lust building inside of me.

Suddenly the door opened, and the wide-eyed woman poked her head in. “When you hear the music start, step out of that door.” She pointed to the door behind us. “The stage will be ready. Stand beside Priest Justice and Mr. Meyer will take your side as your best man. The flower girls will come in first. Your wife to be will enter from the center and her maid of honor, Mrs. Meyer, will precede her. She wanted me to make sure you remembered your vows?”

Bach laughed quietly. “Yes, I remembered my vows. Damn Square.”

“She also said she knew you’d call her that, and that she is a square, but you love squares.” She looked uncomfortable.

Bach, on the other hand, looked like the happiest douchebag I’d ever met.

“You ready?” I patted his shoulder.

“I haven’t been ready for something so much in my life.”

“Then let’s go.”

When the music started, he didn’t hesitate. He wrenched the door open and marched proudly beside the priest. I found my spot and stood beside him, staring at the small grouping of people. There was Patty, Hillary’s mom, who still thought I was a scumbag but had resolved to calling me that in private. The entire Evans family was here. Even Justine and Jona were here, sitting side by side, grinning like they were sharing stories of the man Bach used to be. The possibilities made me grin myself until Patty caught me, and I dropped my grin. Dylan was sitting on her lap, sucking on his thumb as Whitney tried to catch his attention. Whit’s husband, Hanson, had his arm around her. At least Patty loved my son. We got along because of Hillary. When Nena beamed at Bach, I felt a tad bit envious, but then I remembered that she loved him because he made Harley happy. Deep down Patty had to as well.

All I wanted to do was make Hillary happy.

As the music increased the long carved wooden doors opened, creating a halo of light that bled into the room. Aubrey entered first, beautiful as an angel in her ivory lace dress. She had a basket of pink petals, and she cast them around the room like she’d practiced for weeks. When she got to the end, she waved at me and then at Bach. We waved back, smiles identical.

But our smiles changed when Hillary came in. Mine was for my wife, draped in creamy pink fabric, highlighting a body that was aching for my touch. She looked flawless, this perfect, blond creature with a ring on her finger for me. Her hair was straightened, framing her face, and her eyes found me immediately like they always did, demanding my heart. I imagined peeling that dress off her, burying my tongue between her legs, and tasting that golden pussy until she begged me to stop.

Hillary came to stand across from me. “I love you,” she mouthed.

“I love you too,” I returned, trying to hide my hard dick with my folded hands.

Bach’s smile was for his wife.

Harley came in last, dressed in an angelic white dress Nena sewed for her. She was unbearably gorgeous. Her golden brown hair was curled delicately, her light brown eyes glowed, and she was already crying.

I met Hillary’s eyes with a smug grin. “I win,” I mouthed, teasing her about the bet we made. Hillary was positive she would make it without crying. She was wrong.

She stuck her tongue out.

I wanted that tongue.

Our eyes remained locked until it was time for vows.

Bach took a deep breath. “You’ve been on my case about this for months
. Write your own vows. Remember them. And you’d better make me cry
.” Everyone laughed but Bach. “I met you during a dark time in my life. I was so far gone I thought that would be my life. I thought I was that guy, that worthless man I’d struggled to be to escape my nightmares. A man no one wanted. But then I met you. And we didn’t like each other. We didn’t get along. You were an aggravating brat, and I was an impeccably good-looking SOB you couldn’t wait to have.”

Harley laughed through her tears.

“We fought. We hurt each other. We did things that we shouldn’t have because we weren’t aware what was happening. We had nothing to do with our meeting. Something bigger, maybe even someone bigger, someone who knew I needed you. You saved my life, Harley, and I will never forget that. You showed me love, trust, commitment. You gave me a life I am proud of. I love you, and I can’t wait to make you my wife.” And then he smiled through his tears.

When it was Harley’s turn, I thought everyone was in tears except Dylan. He stared at Patty’s crying face and touched her tears.

“When I met you I thought I met a man who threatened everything I knew. I regret that every day. I judged you, the love of my life, the reason I breathe, before I knew you. But I learned really fast that beneath that was an unbearably, beautiful broken man. You were so strong for so long. Have I ever thanked you for trusting me? Have I ever told you how much it meant for you to let me into your life? I plan on making you so happy, Bach, that you forget you ever felt anything else. I promise to be faithful to you, to put you first, and hold on even when it’s hard. Because I love you, and I can’t wait to be your wife.”

That night, after the kids were in bed and our work as parents were over, I unloosened my tie and carefully closed DJ’s bedroom door. With a sigh of relief, I walked down the hall, stepped over a fire truck and a basketball, and urged my bedroom door open. Hillary was in the middle of wrapping her body in a towel, golden hair damp as it cascaded down her back. Steam from the bathroom drifted into the room, leaving behind the scent of her peach body wash. The smell alone had my balls aching. But the sight of her full round ass poking out of her towel had my cock desperate to be inside of her. So fucking deep our stomachs touched.

She looked over and smiled, still so good after all the bad I planned on doing, having done, and will undoubtedly do to her.

She finished securing the towel and picked up the one on the bed, dragging it through her hair. “DJ fall asleep?”

I pulled my tie free and tossed it on the bed, unfastening the buttons on my shirt next. “Finally. I had to read to him five times between questions. Why’s the sky blue? How come our eggs aren’t green? Is ham from a cow? Why is Aubrey a booger face?”

She laughed, eyes glowing. “He’s an inquisitive boy.”

I took my shirt off and then my undershirt, happy to be out of that suit. Two hours of taking pictures, another four at the reception, and then the after party, and I was spent. I ignored the ache in my leg. There was nothing I could do but ignore it. It was a constant reminder of my lies, and that was the motivation I needed to tell the truth every single day. I looked at my wife as she rummaged around in her top drawer, coming away with a lacey pair of teal-colored boy shorts. She smiled at them before putting them on for some reason.

Come on
, I willed her mentally.
Drop the towel
.

It fell around her feet, leaving her naked body on display. Her tiny waist paved the way for her hips and ass. Her tits were heavy and her nipples hard from the cold. I wanted my tongue all over her body. I wanted my tongue between her legs and her nails in my scalp.

“Turn around,” I ordered.