Forever with You

Epilogue

April

She’s the most beautiful bride that’s ever graced the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. Hell, she’s the most beautiful bride that’s ever graced the Earth. I can’t keep my eyes off her. Her dress hugs her gorgeous tits and her slim hips then trains out behind her. And the corset style in the back is fuck hot. I can’t wait to undress her later. Though, when I finally get the chance, I have a feeling those ties will be more frustrating than sexy.

Though sometimes the frustration is half the fun.

And it’s necessary. “Without struggle there is no progress,” Alayna loves to tell me. It’s a quote she learned in her counseling that she feels suits us fairly frequently. She’s said it so many times in the last nine months that I was almost surprised it wasn’t embroidered on our wedding napkins.

Honestly, the truth that lies in that simple statement is astounding. Though I am a man of commitment, a man who doesn’t walk away from a challenge, I am the first to admit that the road from our engagement to our wedding was paved with boulders and potholes. Even though she said yes on that day back in August, there were many times I’m sure she was tempted to break it off afterward. Moments when I shut down and forgot how to let her in. Days when I pushed her away because I believed that I could never be worthy of her love.

Then there was the biggest issue of all—trust. I’d shattered every ounce of trust that existed between us, and rebuilding it took time. And therapy. Not just for myself, but for us as a couple. I’d thought working out my own problems was hard. Adding another person to the mix added a whole new dimension of struggle.

There was so much healing to be done, wounds that threatened to never scar over. Embracing Alayna’s obsessive tendencies was natural for me, but I have had to learn how to not overly attach myself to her jealousies and insecurities. It can become enabling and as much as it’s a turn-on to have her need me, I love her all the more when she’s whole on her own. When she’s strong and confident.

My healing has been much more tenuous. Abandoning the game I’d played for a lifetime proved the easiest part. With Alayna in my life, I have no desire to be cruel and heartless like that again. But my inclination to manipulate and master runs deeper. I don’t even recognize when I’m molding a situation to my whims. Alayna, kind and forgiving woman that she is, often doesn’t point out when I’m wielding and dominating. A great deal of the time, she even likes it. But she also doesn’t wish to give too much power to my weaknesses. So she calls me on it more and more, and I in turn attempt to let go. To let things run their natural course.

That has been the most difficult part for me, the hardest component of recovery.

But the progress has been amazing. We wouldn’t be here today if it hadn’t been for the steps we took together to strengthen our relationship. And while I’m sure the struggle isn’t over simply because I’ve slipped a ring on her finger, we know that we’re worth the fight.

She’s worth the fight.

Look what my reward has been? Even without our wedding vows, she’s mine. And I’m hers. Completely and absolutely.

The ceremony was simple—that’s how she wanted it, and her wish is my command. Mirabelle and Liesl and Gwen, who has become a surprisingly good friend to Alayna, stood as her bridesmaids. Their pale pink dresses exactly matched the blossoms on Alayna’s veil and in the garden. How Mirabelle managed that, I’ll never know. I’ll thank her later for her contributions to my wife’s day.

My wife.

I’ll never get tired of saying that—wife. Who would have believed that I’d ever have one of those? I’d never been a man who intended to marry. My mother and father didn’t present a pretty picture of matrimony, and I had no understanding of the concept of romantic love. It took Alayna to teach it to me. She’s been the best teacher possible—patient and forgiving beyond what I deserve.

She hates it when I say that about myself—that I’m undeserving, and I suppose it’s the same way I feel when she talks destructively about her own past. The difference, of course, is that her weaknesses and imperfections didn’t almost destroy us as mine did. There are days it’s hard to live with myself because of the lie that I wrapped her in. She soothes me then, fixing me with her love. “We would never have found each other if it weren’t for your game,” she tells me.

I don’t believe that, though. I would have always found her.

Always. Without a doubt.

It’s not an exaggeration when I say I fell for her at first sight. If anything, I downplay. Not on purpose. The effect she had on me is simply beyond words, and when I attempt to voice it, the true experience becomes abridged and reduced. In all honesty, the woman who stood on that stage left me speechless. Her business ideas were only part of it. They were sound and innovative, but really, there are bright, intelligent up-and-comers around every corner. This went beyond that. I can’t even pinpoint if it was her mannerisms or her pattern of speaking or the shocking depth to her chocolate brown eyes. Whatever it was, there was a definite recognition of her soul by mine. An awareness of something greater that tied us to each other upon first acquaintance. As if some part of me had always known she was out there, had been waiting for her to come and bring me to life.

It took me quite some time to label that as love. At first, I didn’t know what it was. And now that I do, I still hesitate to call it that since the word fails to express the multi-dimensional way I feel for her. But it’s the nearest thing I have, and I say it to her now as often as I can. Then I try to tell her what I really mean by that simple four-letter verb. That not only does my world revolve around her, but she is my world. That she’s not just my reason for breathing, she’s air itself. That she’s the meaning behind every one of my thoughts, every thrum of my pulse, every whisper of my conscience. She’s my entire everything. It’s as simple and as complex as that.

I don’t know that she’ll ever understand, but I’ll happily spend my lifetime trying to show her.

I gaze around the crowd of people that have shown up to celebrate our special day and think it’s funny how, now that I know what it means to love and be loved, I see it everywhere. In the way that Adam tends to the baby and tags along behind Mirabelle as she flits from one person to another. In the way my father held my mother’s hand during the ceremony. In the tender look that Brian had for his younger sister when he gave her to me to wed. Has there always been all this love in the world? How have I never seen it before Alayna Withers showed up in my life?

Alayna Pierce now. Doesn’t that have a nice ring?

She’s coming to me now, and my grin widens. I haven’t stopped smiling since she walked down that aisle. I’m sure I look ridiculous.

“Hey, handsome,” she says in that lusty voice of hers that makes my cock twitch. “It’s time for the first dance.”

I let her lead me to the center of the Esplanade. It’s impressive how fast the crew we hired transposed the ceremony arrangement to a reception area. We could have moved to the Atrium or another venue all together as our wedding planner suggested, but Alayna wanted the whole event to be outdoors among the blossoms. It was a good decision. The Brooklyn Botanic Society doesn’t usually rent out the whole garden for weddings. It’s amazing what they’ll do for a large donation.

The emcee announces our first dance as I pull my bride into my arms. “What will our first dance be to, Mrs. Pierce?”

I know nothing she has planned for the reception. Alayna took care of all the wedding details. I offered to help, but she preferred to surprise me. The tables will be turned when I get her on the plane to our honeymoon destination. She has no idea that we’ll be staying in a private cabana in the Maldives Islands for three weeks. I’d considered Italy or Greece—both locations that she’s mentioned wanting to visit—but out of my own selfishness, I chose a tropical setting. It will be easier to keep her naked on a private beach than at the site of an ancient ruin or in an art museum.

“Patience, Mr. Pierce.” She’s always so good at throwing my own lines back to me.

The music starts and I smile. All of Me. Of course.

She snuggles into my arms and I bury my head in her neck, breathing in the scent of her. Her cherry body wash mingles with the blossoms in the air, but none of it can completely cover up the delicious aroma of Alayna’s skin—a combination of salt and sweet that I can’t describe but would recognize anywhere.

Though I want to hold her and enjoy her in this tender first dance as a married couple, I feel that I’ve had so little chance to talk to her today, and I can’t stop myself from doing so now. “It’s a beautiful wedding, Alayna. You did an excellent job.”

I feel her cheek tug into a smile at my shoulder. “Thank you. I had a lot of help, thanks to your money.”

“Our money,” I correct. As I’d promised the first time I asked her to marry me, I demanded no prenup. What’s mine is hers, openly and without question. I wonder if she’ll ever get used to it.

“Our money,” she concedes. “And it’s going well, I think.”

“Very well.” Very well, indeed.

“Did you notice Chandler’s been following Gwen around like a lost puppy?”

I had noticed. Though there’s too much lust in his eye for me to understand the puppy comparison. “She doesn’t seem to mind.” Gwen’s gaze also holds a degree of desire. Can Alayna see it?

“No, she doesn’t.” Alayna giggles. She does see it, then. “And everyone seems happy.”

“Everyone does at that.” And I’m the happiest.

She places a kiss on my neck that sends a jolt to my cock. “Even your mother has managed to remain polite.”

The mention of my mother has me limp. “She does seem slightly more in control of herself now that she’s sober.” Sophia’s only been home from upstate since January. She missed Mirabelle’s baby’s birth, something that I believe she regrets deeply, but she’s better now than she was, and I believe even Sophia thinks the sacrifice is worth it. “She still is a nasty old bitch, though, isn’t she?”

Alayna laughs, her hair tickling my neck with the movement, the sound tickling my heart with its purity. “You said it, not me.”

I hold her tighter and kiss her temple. This is everything I ever needed and never knew I wanted, wrapped up in the most beautiful of packages. Well, not quite everything. There’s still one thing left on the list.

I broach the subject I’ve been avoiding in a passive way. Perhaps it’s manipulative, but it’s who I am. “I saw you with Arin Marise, earlier. You’re so good with her.”

Arin Marise Sitkin is Adam and Mirabelle’s baby. My sister insists that she gave her daughter a name that couldn’t be shortened so that I’ll call her what everyone else calls her. But I’ve taken to calling her Arin Marise just to rile her up. She’s five and a half months old now, all cheeks and grins. Arin’s petite like her mother but feisty. You only notice her small stature in comparison to Braden, Alayna’s nephew who’s only four months old, but almost twice as big as Arin.

Alayna and I have never talked about children, not about our children, anyway. I’ve seen her with Arin and Braden and fallen in love with her all over again with the care and gentleness she gives them, but I’ve never brought up the actual topic. Perhaps it scared me, but it doesn’t scare me now. Not now that I know she’s mine truly and deeply no matter how this conversation goes.

I pull back from our embrace to look in her eyes, thinking I should probably put this off until a more appropriate time, but unable to wait another second to ask. “Do you…” I begin then start over. “Have you thought about children of your own?”

She leans forward to kiss my throat then, with her eyes cast down, says tentatively, “I’d probably fuck them up.”

That had always been my fear, and if it weighs too heavily on her, I’ll abandon the whole idea. I kiss her head again and then ask outright, “Would you like to fuck them up with me?”

She laughs again and meets my gaze, her eyes misty and her face aglow. “Yes,” she says without any hesitation or trace of doubt. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” I draw her closer and spin her around. “We can get started tonight in the plane. Or right now, if you prefer. I saw a rather large oak in one of the smaller gardens. I’m almost certain we could hide there, even with this dress of yours.”

“I’d love to see how you plan to get at me with all this material in the way.”

I nip at her ear. “Oh, precious, I’m very resourceful. Need I remind you that I’m a man who gets what he wants?” Again I lean back to look in her eyes. “And anyone who ever doubted that only needs to look at me right now to know it’s true. Everything I want is here, in my arms.”

“I love you,” she murmurs.

“I love you first.” And last. And everything in between.

I kiss her, sweetly, chastely enough for our onlookers, but with just enough bite that she knows I mean it. Then our dance is over and it’s time for her to dance with her brother and me with Sophia.

Reluctantly, I let her go. I can bear these few minutes apart. I have her for a lifetime.

THE END