Thousand Yard Bride (17 page)

I
was so relieved
to get out of the party, away from Benny, away from the Daniels' Estate, away from where I felt so out of place. As we drove with the top down, I didn't care that my hair was getting messed up.

I cared that Hunter put his hand on mine.

This was a moment that the press would never see. There would be no “Hot Football Stud Squeezes Hand of Pregnant Fiancée in Car” headline. This was a moment for just the two of us.

“Jo,” he started, “I’m really sorry about dragging you into all of this.”

My fingers twitched in his. “I wasn't dragged. This is what we have to do.” I weighed my next words; if there was a time to come clean with Hunter, that time was now. “I just feel so lost in your world.”

“What do you mean,
my
world?”

“The mansion. The money. Even this dress,” I confessed. I loved the dress, but wearing haute couture was an entirely new experience. “I’m trying so hard to fit in, to do all the right things, but it seems like I get it wrong."

"What?" he asked, shooting me a little smile. "You mean like tipping people with oranges?"

I gasped, covering my eyes with my other arm. "He told you!"

"Of course he told me. It was hilarious." Pulling my hand upwards, Hunter kissed the back of it softly. My knees came together. "Do you really think I give a damn if you fit in with those people or not? Jo, I barely fit in. If anything, I love you more because you
don't."

There it was again. That L word.

He slowed the car down, taking a corner and making my weight shift his way. "Why don't you say it back?" he whispered.

Battery acid invaded my stomach. "Say what?"

"That you love me."

It felt especially strange to pull into the parking lot for my apartment complex after having driven up to his estate. My entire apartment building was smaller than their guest house.

Hunter killed the engine, staring at the wheel. Waiting.

Swallowing, I said, "Because I don't know if I do."

"Liar," he chuckled cruelly.

My mouth fell open. "I'm not—"

He was on me, all teeth and tongue and seeking fingers that threatened to ruin the Kate dress, to destroy it and create a whole new meaning and memory. Just as I thought I'd die, he created enough of a gap for me to breathe. The back of the window pressed hard on my skull.

Hunter's voice was a hush. "Try to deny it. Go on. Dare to look deep and tell me you don't love me."

I couldn't look at his face. "It's the hormones. They make it confusing."

"Fuck the hormones." He sealed me with another kiss, his hand sliding down to cup my breast—which made me jump—then my belly, which made me whimper. "This baby is mine.
You're
mine, and I know what we have is more than this damn fake marriage. So tell me."

"I can't—"

"
Tell me."

My hair fell in my eyes. I left it there. I thought about how he'd defended me from his father, from Poppy, from Benny tonight. I thought about how easily we'd gone from joking about one thing to making out the next.

Hunter was so many things. And he was brave enough to tell me how he felt.

Why was I so lost?

Licking my lips, I asked, "Are you satisfied with this?"

"With what? With you?"

“With the situation. With how our lives will have to be, now." My voice cracked, but I held my tears back. Asking him this was too fucking hard. I was terrified of what he'd say, I'd convinced myself he hadn't really thought this all through.

Hunter glanced at my mouth, then my eyes, searching for . . . something. “I used to think I was . . . before I met you. You showed me how I was wasting my life, taking everything for granted, thinking I had it all when none of it really meant anything. Now that I have people to take care of—" he rubbed my stomach, "—I want to make something of myself, on my own terms.” His voice trailed off. “Yes. I'm satisfied with what we have, and what we will have. We're going to make a wonderful family, Jo.”

A family a family a family.
His words rang in my skull over and over.

All along, it wasn't Hunter who had trouble committing. It wasn't
him
that feared marriage and a family. It had been me.

And now I knew why.

“You need to know about my parents," I whispered, my voice finally choking into nothing. Hunter embraced me; I pushed him away, wiping my eyes. "Let me talk. I need to tell you so you can get why I'm so scared and stupid and messing this all up."

His arms were warm, the corded muscles locking so I couldn't run from the car. "Then stay and talk. I'm listening, Jo."

Salt stained my lips, I ignored it. "You met Lanie, my sister. But you haven't met my parents. Do you know why?"

He hesitated. "I thought either you were ashamed of me, or . . ."

"They're dead," I said, watching him cringe. "My mother, Hannah, was everything to me. I lost her when I was young, but I never forgot her . . . how she'd let me help her dig in the garden, even though I never did it right, or how she'd read me the same book a million times just because I wanted to hear it. I worked so hard to become who I am, but the whole time, I kept away from people. Other than Lanie . . . I never got close to anyone. I was too afraid to."

Hunter didn't care that I struggled, he hugged me anyway, gently wiping away my fresh tears. "You were scared to get close to anyone in case you lost them?"

"Bingo," I sniffled, my laugh bitter. "You don't like your family much, but they're there."

"Jo." He linked our fingers between us. I felt him thumb the diamond on my ring. "You don't have to worry about me going anywhere. I won't leave you."

Hiccuping, I tried to speak—couldn't get the words out. He held me to his body, his nose in my hair, fingers rubbing my back as he rocked me. "Shh," he whispered soothingly. "What is it? Speak slow."

Coughing, I said, "Even—Jack—died—in—Titanic."

He stared at me. I stared back.

The laugh started as a small earthquake, moving through him and into me. Hunter held me tight, his cheek rubbing my scalp as we both lost it. It was impossible not to let the tension sink from my bones.

I was such a fool. How much had I missed out on in my life because of this fear of connection? This fear of loss?

Maybe it doesn't matter,
I thought, clinging to him tight.
After all, I ended up here.
"You win," I whispered against his shoulder. "I love you, Hunter Daniels."

His kiss was sweet and brief as a drop of rain. "I know," he said. "Because you're a terrible terrible oh and
terrible
liar—" I shoved him lightly, enjoying his chuckle. "But I still love you, too."

I finally wasn't afraid of what that meant.

I
was almost
five months pregnant on my wedding day.

The news had begun gossiping about it. While we'd avoided
some
scandal by being engaged, the paparazzi still couldn't get enough about the rumors over my pregnancy. There was a lot of probing questions, people shouting at Hunter or I when we were out about if this was a shotgun wedding or not.

If I wasn't kind of excited to be marrying Hunter, I would have cared that our charade hadn't been entirely successful.

For scheduling reasons, we chose the Saturday before the Hawks’ last preseason game for the ceremony. Once the regular season began, Hunter’s time would be controlled by the Hawks. Everything came together just beautifully for the September wedding. Even my lace dress, baby bump and all, looked fantastic.

I could have hidden my pregnancy had I really tried, but since everyone knew that we were pregnant, I was happy to show it off a little bit. It actually felt nice to include the baby in the wedding. In order to make sure the nuptials were positively received, I invited friendly reporters to the ceremony, offering them an invite to the event of the year in exchange for an upbeat story. I was covering all my bases.

I spent two entire days in my office crafting press releases and granting access to only the right reporters. It felt so weird to be doing press for my own wedding, but I knew it was key.

Lanie said I was overthinking the details. But in P.R., there was no such thing.

Since I was busy spinning media, Hunter’s mom had planned the wedding almost single-handedly. Originally, I had wanted a ceremony outside, preferably in a park. Mrs. Daniels would have nothing of that, saying, “A park is too rustic, dear.”

I didn't have the energy to argue, and I had no idea how to plan a ritzy ceremony, so I decided to trust Victoria. She made plans to have the wedding on the green of the Haven Oaks Country Club. It wasn't in a park, but it was outside next to a lake with several fountains, so it was a decent compromise.

When the big day rolled around, I felt like I was in the middle of some kind of drug-induced dream. I was sitting there with Lanie in a conference room that the Haven Oaks Club had turned into a bride’s dressing room.

The stylists were busy working on my “dewdrop princess” look, a thing I didn't understand and couldn't have even tried on my own. But I did love the results.

I'd decided to keep my hair down, mostly because I knew Hunter liked it. They'd managed to make it shiny and smooth, only a few pieces fighting the straightener and curling defiantly. The stylist pinned in a delicate tiara over a lace veil that covered the back of my hair. “Voila,” he said. “Perfection.”

“Let me see,” Lanie gushed from behind me. She was sitting on the conference table drinking champagne, unaffected by the wedding pre-jitters.

Standing, I moved around the stylists and did a careful spin for my sister. “Well, what do you think?” My attempt to sound calm failed utterly.

“Oh my gosh, Jo. You look perfect.” Lanie was never one to cry, so when tears started rolling down her cheeks, I was surprised.

“Lanie! Get it together!" I giggled, sounding insane. Maybe I was insane. What the hell was I doing getting married? "If you fall apart, I fall apart, and then the photographer’s going to have to spend a lot of time and effort Photoshopping our tears out of all the wedding pictures.”

She shook her head violently. “Gorgeous. And I’m totally jealous of your tiara. Why can’t the maid of honor wear a tiara?”

“Just be happy Victoria let you pick your dress!” I said, admiring my sister in her simple but chic silver A-line strapless gown. “You look great.”

“Thanks, sis, but you’re the main event. You’re actually radiant."

I hoped Hunter would think so, too. I said, “Alright, alright. Enough with the compliments. My head’ll get so big the tiara won’t fit.”

“That’s all part of my evil plan, actually," she cackled.

I looked in the mirror again and it suddenly hit me. I was marrying Hunter. It was real. Just because the marriage was an idea concocted by Hunter's father to protect his family and his son's reputation didn't make it any less real. I was going to be his wife. This was it.

“Well, looks like our work here is done,” the stylist said. Then he and the makeup artist stepped out of the room.

I turned to Lanie. “Am I doing the right thing?” I asked my sister.

“You know what? I think you are. And if it flops . . . you get a divorce when people aren't watching too closely."

“That’s kind of sad. Mom and Dad never got divorced.”

Lanie gave me a hug. “Yeah. I know. They were great together. It’s not fair they aren’t here to see you today, sis. But then again, maybe they are.”

I held my sister close, willing my eyes to stay dry for the sake of my makeup and so that Lanie and I didn't become inconsolable blubbering messes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m glad that you know the truth about all of this, and you’re still supporting me anyway. I couldn't do this without you.”

“I just want you to be happy. That’s all that counts. Be happy.”

“I am, Lanie. I can’t believe it, but I actually am,” I said as I touched my tiara, feeling the delicate veil underneath it.

All of a sudden, her eyes got very narrow. "Oh. Wait. Are you actually in
love
with him? Is it not just about his super-cock and your career anymore?"

Flushing, I stammered, "It was never about his—what, his super
what?"

"Super-cock," she said calmly, just as the wedding planner walked in.

Gawking at us, she shook herself quickly, obviously pretending she hadn't heard us. “It’s time! And we added some last minute swans! Hunter’s mum’s idea!”

It turned out that Victoria had stopped at nothing to make the area into a stunning venue. In addition to swans, there were about ten times as many flowers lining the rows of seats as necessary. Fairy lights were strung over the chairs, and there were candles everywhere.

A walkway covered in flower petals led from the archway by the patio to the green grass where Hunter stood in his tailored-for-him silvery-gray suit. As soon as our eyes met, a wave of delight moved through me.

I'd expected to walk down the aisle to the traditional “Here Comes the Bride,” but when I heard the string quartet start playing “My Heart Will Go On,” I knew that Hunter had put his own stamp on our wedding day. No one else knew about our secret love for
Titanic
.

I walked towards Hunter, and while he beamed at me, Reese—his best man—was grinning just as much. I wondered if it was because of me, or if he just thought Lanie looked fantastic. She said into my ear, "Rawr. Reese looks yummy."

My smile got bigger—tighter—as I held in my giggle.

The music faded, the crowd on the grass settling into their wooden chairs. I didn't know most of them, but the few that I did I was glad to have. Hunter smiled down at me, brushing my fingers and ignoring all pretense of behaving. "You look amazing," he said softly.

Lanie took my flowers, tapping Hunter's hand and making a scolding face. Everyone saw, the rumble of chuckles polite and kind. Only Hunter's dad seemed put out by the display. Screw him, this was our wedding, no matter how it came to be.

I looked into Hunter’s eyes while the priest led the ceremony. Most of what was said went over my head. Hunter made it too easy to get lost in his wicked smile, and when he took my hands in his, caressing the gaps between, it was electric—erotic, somehow.

Then everyone was staring at me.
Crap. It's my turn to speak.
Clearing my throat, I said, "I didn't prepare any vows. I . . . uh, well, I don't know what to even say."

"I do," Hunter chuckled, tugging me closer. My heart stumbled in my chest. "Jo, when I first met you . . ." I was terrified he was about to give away the game and reveal our hook up. "I was stunned. You weren't just beautiful, but you were smart enough to know I was bad news."

He winked, I flushed, and the crowd laughed again.

Hunter lowered his voice—I leaned in. "Even so, you fell for my charm. You gave me a chance. I'm so happy we're together. I couldn't imagine life any other way. To put it your

way . . . I'm satisfied."

I filled from top to bottom with dizzying joy. He kept me on my feet, and I managed to fumble through saying "I do" when the priest asked me if I would take Hunter to be my faithful husband.

It was Hunter's turn. I felt the audience pause, a heavy moment where several probably expected him to back out and run fleeing from me, the ultra-round pregnant bride.

“I do,” he said, the words sliding out with ease. It made my heart flutter, my stomach tensing as it felt a drumming resonating inside.

Was that the baby kicking?
I marveled.

Taking his hand, I pushed it to my belly. Hunter lifted an eyebrow, asking what I was doing. Together, we felt the second little thud. His gasp was audible—cameras flashed as the photographers captured the moment Hunter felt his baby move.

Lanie had been sniffling, but when she realized what was going on, she started to bawl. Reese pulled her close, comforting her as the crowd dabbed their eyes. Hunter looked down on me, and I swear, his amber pools were ready to spill over, too.

It was such an intense moment, then it was over in a flash. The ceremony had only lasted half an hour.

It took much longer to pose for the damn wedding photos.

If swans, flowers, and candles were a little over the top, then the reception was off the charts. Three times as many people as were invited to the ceremony had tickets to the reception, which Victoria had turned into a formidable society event.

Everyone who was anyone was in attendance. From sports stars present and past, to TV and movie celebrities, to politicians, to people who I didn't recognize but were probably important, my wedding reception was a who’s who of the richest people in the country.

Fortunately, my number one job was to dance and look happy, and I couldn't wait to do that. As long as I kicked up my heels and kept a grin on my face, the reporters I planted would take care of the rest.

While we were being photographed by both the press I had invited and by Victoria’s professional photographer, Hunter and I weren’t able to speak freely. Instead we basically made googly eyes at each other and kissed a lot, which was not a terribly hard task given how great Hunter looked.

Was it crazy to think that this could be a real happy ending?

After the last camera clicked, Hunter and I made our way to the outside of the club's ballroom. Everyone was waiting on the other side of those huge double doors, which were closed in order to reveal us when the master of ceremonies, one of Hunter’s dad’s pals, announced our arrival.

Hunter took my left hand, squeezing it gently. “This is it,” he said. One more kiss for good luck?” I looked around and saw that there were no photographers nearby. They were all waiting for our grand entrance. At this one unique moment, there wasn't anyone to watch us, to photograph us, to write a headline or even a Tweet about it.

It was just about us.

Standing on tiptoe, I ran my mouth along his. Our skin clung together, a bolt of lightning passing between our bodies. Hunter groaned, his hands mauling my ass through my dress. "I can't wait to tear this off of you," he whispered.

Hiking it high, he ignored my gasp, searching for the gap between my thighs. My lashes were heavy from all the mascara, it was too easy to rest them on my cheeks and let him feel for my pussy.

Then the ballroom doors swung open, the orchestra music playing, all eyes on us. We heard the cheers of the crowd, the warning not enough to save us from those who'd been watching closely. Jumping back, I shoved my dress down and turned a lovely shade of tomato.

Camera bulbs flashed, the room full of people clapping. Some of the Hawks even yelled, “Eighty-three! Eighty-three!” as though Hunter had just scored a touchdown. He looked pretty pleased, not caring we'd been caught in such an obscene pose.

The M.C. played up the moment, laughing into the mic as he said, “Look at these crazy kids. They couldn’t even wait for me to announce them. That’s true love if I ever saw it. Shall we try this again? Here we go, welcome to the ballroom, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter Daniels Junior! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the newlyweds!”

The room went wilder than before. I didn’t think that fancy rich people hooted and hollered, but I was wrong. We could have been at a Hawks game the way the room was reacting to us.

After the cheering tapered off, it was time for our first dance as a couple. My heart pounded as the music started playing. It was a softer rock ballad than most wedding songs—a little rough, a little smooth, and entirely like Hunter Daniels.

I let myself fall into him. As we swayed together, I realized it was the first time we'd danced together since the Standard. That time, we'd ground together like sweaty animals. This was sweeter . . . but somehow more intimate.

When the band played the next song, the M.C. invited everyone to join in on the dance floor.” It filled up, and after one more slow song, the music picked up the beat.

Though I was laughing and cheering, my feet started aching. “Do you mind if I sit the next one out?” I asked Hunter. "I think the baby-weight is making my poor feet lose their endurance."

Lanie walked over, her hair already falling out of the up-do. "If you're stepping out, I'll cut in. How about it,
Mister
Joanne Cooke?” she asked.

Bowing dramatically, Hunter took her hand. "If you can keep up."

I took my seat at the head table and watched my sister and Hunter as they bounced together. It was a fast song, and they were both laughing and dancing—Lanie was clearly enjoying the antics of my gigantic football player husband, since she was a much better dancer.

Lanie caught my eye, and we smiled at each other. Leaning back, I took a slow breath, allowing the stress of the wedding to fade away.

“Congrats, bride," a voice said near me.

My back became an iron rod. "Poppy?" I asked, twisting around.