Page 213 of Dirty Rival
“Your father armed that weapon,” I say. “He made you feel like you had something to be ashamed of.”
“Like I said. A weapon I armed myself. He only had the power I gave him, and for far too long. He didn’t deserve the power or respect we gave him as a family. If you ever write a letter to our daughter about me like my mother did my father, I want it read like I’m an example of what she wants in a man, not what she should avoid.” He downs his whiskey and sets his glass down.
I sit up straight and set my glass next to his. “Daughter?” I ask, my heart racing. He wants to have a daughter?
He laces his fingers with mine. “Today has my head going all kinds of places. We’d make beautiful babies.”
“Yes. Yes, we would but—”
He leans in and kisses me. “You don’t have to finish that sentence. No pressure, baby.”
“I want to finish. I was just going to say the idea scares me. What if I suck at being a mom like my mom did?”
“You won’t. You’re all heart and perfection, baby, and you’d need those qualities to manage how fucking insanely protective I’d be.” He laughs. “Maybe we better stick to the cat and dog, at least for now.”
“For now,” I say, and he brushes his lips over mine.
“Let’s just say for us anything is possible.”
“I like that. I like that a lot.”
“Good. Then how about this? Marry me in Rockefeller Center on the 27th.”
I blanch. “As in ten days from now?”
“Yes. Ten days from now. I called Grayson. He called a friend. He made it happen, baby.”
I stand up, adrenaline shooting through my body. “I—that’s incredible, but I—a dress. And—I have nothing. We have no plans.”
He stands up and turns me to face him, his hands settling on my shoulders. “Grayson’s back with his ex-fiancée and they’re getting married in March. She has a dress and a well-known designer, and Mia, that’s his fiancée, called that designer. Grayson and Mia are gifting you a custom dress, but you have to go tomorrow for the fitting. I already talked to Cat and she is working on everything else. If you want to do this. There’s no pressure, but you said you wanted this and—”
I push to my toes and kiss him. “You’re incredible. This is incredible. And yes, to everything. I love this. I want this. It’s everything. We’re everything.”
He kisses me and then stares down at me. “Ten days.”
“Ten days,” I whisper, my heart swelling with all that we have become, and soon will be, but my eyes go wide with a sudden thought. “You need a ring. And we have to go get the dog and—”
He kisses me again. “Relax, baby. I promise you, when we go home tonight we’ll have a ring, and a dog to play with our cat.”
I take his hand. “Then we need to leave now.” I tug him toward the door.
“What about the press?”
“Just another reason to get a dog,” I say, and we’re laughing as we get on the elevator on our way to complete our little family in all kinds of special ways.
Chapter one hundred ten
Carrie
Thanks to Blake, Reid and I sneak out of the building through a garage exit without ever being seen by the press. We head home to check on Kesha and change into casual clothes, in hopes we won’t be recognized from the press conference today. I’ve just finished pulling on black jeans and a turtleneck when Cat calls, and we end up planning a get together for tomorrow to discuss the wedding plans. She’s excited and this just feeds my excitement. By the time I hang up, Reid’s on the phone and dressed in jeans and a navy sweater that stretches deliciously over his hard chest, and yes, I do indeed approve of the hotness level of my future husband.
He ends his call and slides his cell into his pocket. “That was Grayson. Mia’s going to text you the address for a fitting she set up for eight tomorrow morning. She’ll be there. She said it’s the only time the designer could do it.”
Excitement and nerves take over. “That’s fast but great and so nice of her. Cat wants to go, too, and my God, I can’t believe we’re doing this. You need a tux and I need to lose five pounds before the wedding.”
He snags my hips and walks me to him. “You do not need to lose five pounds. You’re perfect.”
“Thank you, but every bride loses weight so she can look back at photos and say, ‘if I was only that weight once in my life, at least it was on my wedding day.’ It’s practically tradition.”