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Story: Make You Mine
Epilogue
Gray
I thought the day I married Drew Harris was the greatest day of my life.
We fast-tracked the planning, with the help of Ruby and her mother, and I flew all of us up to Delaware to do the whole thing on my family’s estate. What would become our family estate.
The thought of what’s mine being Drew’s made me happier than I realized it would. I was happier than a tornado in a trailer park.
Clearly, I’m still learning to be a rich asshole.
The housekeeping staff really showed their worth in getting everybody set up in rooms and helping arrange the gardens for a wedding. I know it all belongs to me, so maybe I shouldn’t say this, but the place was pretty damn impressive.
Drew was a goddess. She walked down the aisle in a strapless ivory dress that hugged her curves all the way to her ankles. Over it all was this sheer lace veil with these branch-like patterns stitched into it.
I don’t know a lot about fashion, but Ruby said it was the latest thing, very expensive. Drew said it would be an heirloom. I didn’t care. I gave Ruby my credit card and told her to get Drew everything she wanted.
I had to give it to Ruby because my bride got some weird notion in her head that she didn’t want to use my money for her wedding gown. Luckily her best friend said I’m the answer to her insanely rich fiancé prayers.
I have no idea what that means, and I don’t really give a shit about being insanely rich—other than it lets me give my Drew-baby everything she deserves.
Needless to say, the wedding was fantastic, I married the girl of my dreams, the mother of my child… but the best part of it all was when Carl Harris stood and walked her down the aisle.
Before he left, he handed me a note, and once all the dances, toasts, cake cutting, and throwing of things was over, I slipped out of the party to read it.
Grayson,
I cannot take back the years that have gone before, and I won’t try to explain the reasons behind my actions. Some old ghosts are better left buried. Still, my anger was real. My hurt was real.
My daughter says I was wrong, and in her way, she forced me to look at the past through a different lens. Maybe I knew the truth all along. Either way, I couldn’t let go of the shame, my wounded pride.
You don’t have to accept my apology. You don’t have to take my advice, but here it is. Don’t let pride ruin your life like I let it ruin mine.
I don’t blame you for what happened to my son. I don’t blame you for what happened in the past. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you. I was wrong. You are a good man.
You make my Andrea very happy. Take care of my daughter.
With my blessing,
Carl Harris
The words hit me harder than I expected, and I needed a minute before I could return to the reception. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but I later learned my bride had talked to her dad the week before.
I guess for once, he listened.
The highlight of the night came much later, when Drew met me in the bedroom wearing nothing but that expensive veil. It was sexy as shit seeing her beautiful breasts, her flat stomach, and round hips shrouded in sheer lace.
We made love so many different ways that night. She rode me like a champ, and when it was all over, the bed was nearly in the middle of the room.
In the meantime, we’ve restored the Harris home. We’ve updated and improved the lake house. It’s better than it ever was.
I agreed to join the board of directors for Ralph Stern’s almond business, and I have to agree with his mom, Ralph’s pretty obsessive, but he could be onto something.
I even turned the garage over to Billy.
He claims he’s never changing his work shirt again. He’s convinced he’ll wind up as Lee Iacocca one of these days. Hell, I told him if I’m any indicator, it could happen.
It just so happened, Leslie Grant was hanging around the garage that day. I told her to wait as I dashed into the cottage and found the stack of photos I’d set aside of her and Danny.
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