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It’s beautiful, but the crown jewel is my best friend. The wedding party is all wearing black from head to toe, allowing the bride to stand out beautifully. Not that she wouldn’t anyways, but her floor-length, lace, form-fitting gown is a showstopper, as is the woman inside it. The dress is tight, showing off her generous curves and ample chest. Not to mention her killer ass that Logan’s barely restraining himself from grabbing. The sleeves are long and flowy, as is the train. Her hair is up in messy curls, showing off her simple makeup and long, chandelier earrings.
She’s stunning. Hands down the center of this entire event. My heart squeezes in my chest as I take in her glowing, tear-stained cheeks that match Logan’s.
Fuck. Shiloh is one lucky bitch.
A quiet whimper drags my attention to Logan’s parents, who are holding Asher and Archer. Logan and Shiloh’s one-month-old twins. The squeeze turns into a stabbing sensation. Shiloh tried to conceive for years with her piece of shit ex-husband Cole. They were only successful once but lost the baby right before she entered the second trimester. It was heart-wrenching, as was the way Cole handled the situation. I’d already hated him, but the way he treated the loss so callously had me downright murderous.
Now, looking at how happy she is with Logan and their boys, I know without a shadow of a doubt that everything happens for a reason. It may have been a horribly painful journey, but she ended up exactly where she was always meant to be.
Hours later the speeches are done, the cake’s been cut, and the happy couple is mingling and thanking their guests. My ass is firmly planted at the wedding party table, where I’ve been nursing my fourth glass of wine for the last ten minutes. The wedding was beautiful, and the reception’s been a mix of sweet and fun, but my heart is aching nearly as bad as my feet are at this point. The urge to find a quiet place to hunker down has my reclusive self practically salivating.
My eyes flick up when I hear Logan’s boisterous laughter spilling out through the open yard. He’s standing at the bar, chatting with his brothers and dad, a massive grin spread across his handsome face. I smile as I take in the four matching red-headed Huxley men. Even in his old age, their dad is still a good-looking man, and it’s clear to see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Shiloh’s boys are going to be lookers, for sure.
“Hot, aren’t they?” A lilting voice chuckles next to my ear, making me jump. My heart pounds in my chest from the small splash of fear, and I hold onto the emotion like it’s my final breath. My head whips to the side, and I find Dom dropping into the vacant chair next to me. I give him a knowing grin and shrug. He laughs, taking a quick drink from his beer as he settles in the chair. “The Huxley blood runs deep. No doubt every single one of those boys will produce a horde of ginger babies.”
A bark of laughter escapes me at the thought. Archer and Asher were both born bald, but I have every confidence that their hair will sprout out in red tufts despite Shiloh’s nearly black hair. We fall into a calm, contented silence as we watch the partygoers and sip our drinks. Dom is a nice guy, and he’s easy to like. I can see why Shiloh took to him so quickly.
“No date?” he murmurs, his eyes still scanning the crowd.
I groan and shake my head. “Nope. Forever dateless, it seems. Are you here with Stephen?” I ask, then immediately cringe when I see him wince. “Shit, sorry. It’s not my business.”
Dom sighs and runs his fingers through his thick brown hair. “It’s fine. Technically yes, but you’d never know by the way he’s avoided me since I got here.”
“What the hell?” I murmur, leaning forward. I brace an elbow on the table and turn to fully face him, though he’s still looking anywhere but at me. “That’s fucked up.” I don’t push for more information, just leave it at that.
Dom sits in silence for so long I think he won’t say anything in return. When he finally does, his words are heavy and full of pain and longing. “Three years, I’ve been unofficially dating the love of my life. Three messy, complicated, beautiful years of back-and-forth commitment and breakups. Three years of unbelievable love and equally intense heartache.”
I say nothing as I let him unload his feelings in his own time. I fight the urge to send a glare in Stephen's direction even though I have no idea what the problems in their relationship actually consist of. If nothing else, the devastation on Dom's face tells me it’s likely Stephen's fault.
“Stephen is the love of my life. My one and only. He’s my past, present, and future,” he says sadly.
“So, what’s the problem?” I whisper, my heart clenching uncharacteristically.
Dom shakes his head and squeezes his beer bottle tightly. “He’s all of those things for me, but I’m not the same for him.”
My head rears back in shock. “What are you talking about? I’ve seen the way that man looks at you when his head’s not in his ass. He’s utterly in love with you, and judging by the way he follows you whenever you share space, I’d say he’s borderline obsessed .”
Dom chuckles and grins at that. “It’s a Huxley quality. The obsessive thing.” He shakes his head, his smile wilting. “I know he loves me, but I’m just not enough for him and what he wants in order to make our relationship complete…I just—” he shakes his head again, this time harder, like he’s trying to physically clear the thoughts from his mind.
I reach out, grab his hand and give it a squeeze meant to reassure him. “What? Does he like want kids or something?” I ask gently. I know sometimes that’s a bone of contention with couples. Not everyone sees the same future, and it can ultimately end relationships. Like with Shiloh and her ex-husband.
Dom scoffs. He shoots me an unidentifiable look. “Fuck, I wish kids were all he wanted. I’m as bad as Logan. I want a whole zoo of them.” Leaning forward, he braces his hands on his knees and takes a deep, slow pull from his beer. My eyes zero in on the long, glass bottle, and my cheeks burn, and lust pools low in my belly as I remember what I’d done with the wine bottle last night. Shit, that was hot. “He has particular…” he breaks off with a heavy exhale. “He has certain kinks that I’m not sure I can handle.”
“Kinks?” I murmur, my brows lifted.
He nods. “Yep. Stephen is into power exchange.”
My head cocks to the side as I take him in. My eyes flit to Stephen, who's still leaning against the bar. He’s a big guy. Not quite as wide or large as Logan, but close. He’s masculine but clean-cut. Like a fancy lumberjack. Looking back at Dom, I realize he’s much smaller and has a very polished look about him. He looks like a GQ model. I know size difference and masculinity have nothing to do with bedroom or relationship roles, despite what some people think. Being larger doesn’t necessarily make someone a top, and in a lot of relationships, no matter the gender, things sexually can be fluid. That’s the beauty of sexual exploration. But with what Dom is describing and his aversion to it, I assume he means Stephen wants to give up control.
“Like he wants you to top him? Tie him up and slap his ass?” I giggle, my face scrunching up. I playfully tip my shoulder into his and smile up at him. “I didn’t take you for vanilla, Dom.”
He barks a laugh and shoves me away. “Fuck no. If all he wanted was for me to cuff his ass to the bed and slap his perfect cheeks, I’d do that shit in a heartbeat. I’ll be his top, bottom, or fucking sideways if he wants.” Shaking his head, he finishes off his beer and drops the glass onto the table. “Stephen is bisexual, and I’m not.”
I slowly sip my wine as his words sink in. He’d said their relationship wasn’t complete with just the two of them…
“He wants to bring a woman into the picture? Like a poly thing?” I mumble around my glass. Dom's face closes off, his open easygoing mood disappearing instantly.Well, shit.“Fuck, I’m sorry, Dom. Honestly, I’m probably too drunk for this conversation. I keep shoving my stiletto into my mouth.”
Dom offers me a weak smile and tips his shoulders in a fake display of nonchalance. “No worries. I’m okay.” His eyes scan over the crowd and settle on a wildly dancing Shiloh, who is very clearly drunk. She’s letting loose since her in-laws have the boys for the night. Dom barks a laugh and pushes to his feet. “I’m going to check on our girl.” He squeezes my hand. “We’ll chat again soon, Ray. Take care.” And then, he’s literally bolting away from me.
