Life with Beckham was different in comparison to being with Gavin. I would always pine after Gavin for affection, for love, for everything it seemed, but I didn’t have to ask Beckham to show me he loved me. We didn’t have to fight over me trying to grow and expand my business. We didn’t have to fight over small things out of bitterness and resentment. Not when he truly wanted the best for me and would stop at absolutely nothing to give it to me.
After our frisky and playful morning, we took a shower together, and I returned to my daily routine of checking emails, going through contracts, and planning our future wedding events.
Sitting at the coffee table in his studio, I scrolled through the choices of catering my soon-to-be father-in-law insisted I choose from. After selling my previous home, Vincent was insistent that we do at least one of our major wedding planning events at his estate.
After I told him we’d do our engagement party there, it seemed he took that as an opportunity to offer his other estates as venues for my bridal shower, our couple shower, a pre-rehearsal dinner, a day-after brunch… good Lord, our future baby shower and gender reveal party.
At least we didn’t have to pay for an expensive venue… well, we really didn’t have to pay for anything, actually. It was as if Vincent was the third person in our relationship, fourth if we count our lovely, intrusive, and opinionated Kira.
She was essentially my bridezilla; her role as my assistant and maid of honor made her the ultimate planner. Instead of internalizing wedding planning frustrations, I gladly placed the responsibilities on her shoulders.
For as little as I did in my previous engagement to Gavin, part of me felt all of the parties, brunches, and dinners I would have to endure before and even after the wedding felt a bit excessive.
The other part of me welcomed it all with open arms, happy to have a father-in-law who was supportive of me and my dreams, and happy to have my mother more involved, helping me with tough decisions without relying on my father.
Seeing a coffee mug appear by my shoulder, I looked over to see my sexy, attractive fiancé handing me my morning booster. Taking it from his hand, I pursed my lips together, waiting to feel his lips against mine. He leaned down, placing a heated kiss on my lips as I moaned.
After a moment, he pulled away, and I rolled my neck to the side as his wonderful hands found my shoulders, massaging my joints and pressing on just the right nerves.
“Flower, I told you to let my father deal with all the details of the event. I don’t want you to feel stressed. He’s the one who’s trying to turn our engagement into the party of the century.”
“Which is exactly why I need to at least have a say in some things. If not, we may just be looking at a million-dollar bill just on dining alone. At least I’ll be doing my part and making sure the silverware isn’t made from real gold,” I said, recalling Vincent showing me options for spoons and forks that were far too expensive to use for one night.
Even though Beckham warned me I should start getting used to his father’s lavish idea of living, I didn’t think it would be this hard. I was already being pampered way too much by my “kiss the ground I walk on and gets on his knees to cherish me” fiancé.
Beckham leaned down, placing a small kiss on the top of my head. “I guess it won’t make you feel any better if I told you he already put the order in for the silverware to ease some of your burden.”
Closing the laptop, I placed it on the coffee table and shook my head. “That’s enough party planning for me,” I muttered, attempting to feel annoyed. However, Beckham leaned closer, placing a tender kiss on my lips. His hand rose to caress my cheek, and I hummed as he pulled away.
“Tell me now if you want me to make my father reel it in.”
I sighed as I shook my head. “He’s just excited. I don’t want to take that from him.”
“And I don’t want him to take away your experience for planning our wedding with Kira.”
“Hate to break it to you, Mr. Garcia… but this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve planned a wedding before. A mediocre one by my ex-husband’s mother’s standard, but… a wedding nonetheless.”
Possessively, Beckham ran his thumb over my diamond ring as he groaned in annoyance. “Don’t remind me…” he muttered, jealously lacing his tone, and I could only giggle as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
Before we could go any further, the front door opened and closed, and I heard the clicks of heels as they walked straight for the kitchen. Pulling away from Beckham, I looked over my shoulder as he shook his head.
“Say her name once, and dammit, there she is,” he muttered, and I hit his shoulder.
“Kira?” I began.
She looked through the cabinets like a madman.
“Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch… Where’s the chardonnay? I need a glass.”
I giggled as she struck gold. “Well, hello to you too,” I said as she effortlessly opened the new bottle and poured herself a glass.
Beckham sighed as he placed a departing kiss on my head. “Looks like a girl talk is in order. I know when I’m not wanted.”
Kira continued pouring as she spoke dismissively, “Love you, Beck.”
He stepped out of the room. I watched Kira, amused, as she took a swig.
“Kira, it’s twelve in the afternoon.”
