Page 64 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

Kasey

Six months later

I tie my hair up in a ponytail in an attempt to minimize the sweat dripping down my back. I’ve been sitting on the wooden bench for well over an hour, with a particularly relentless August sun beating down on me and no clouds in the sky to offer reprieve.

But I’m not ready to go inside.

I lean back, drawing my legs up and wrapping my arms around them as I rest my chin on my knees. It’s not the most comfortable seat, but there are few places that bring me more peace than here, so it’s worth it.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” comes the voice of my soon-to-be husband.

Looking over my shoulder, I’m unsurprised to see he’s wearing a full suit even in this heat.

“How are you not melting?”

“I am,” he assures me with an unbothered smile.

“Feel free to lose a few layers.”

“When we’re done out here, you can strip me of all the layers you want,” he says with a wink.

I laugh and look back at the bright flowers woven into the arch. “I didn’t mean to stay out here for so long.”

As soon as he’s within reach, Logan scoops me up and sets me on his lap. If he wasn’t covered in sweat already, having me on his lap will certainly do the trick, but I don’t talk him out of it. He’s far more comfortable than the bench, and I relax into him as he wraps his arms around me.

“You can spend all the time you want out here,” he whispers. “You know that.”

“There’s a lot to do before tomorrow, and I should be inside helping.”

“Don’t worry about tomorrow. Isabella has everything under control. All you have to do is show up.”

“I think the bride has a few more jobs than that.”

He kisses my cheek. “There isn’t a wedding planner on this planet who would take this more seriously than Isabella has. Trust me, beautiful. She’s got it.”

“Hmm. Then maybe I will stay out here a little while longer.”

“Good. I could use some time out here, too.”

We don’t do much talking after that. We take in the elegant vines and vibrant flowers, woven in the most intricate and breathtaking way.

The base—a wooden structure made from trees native to our yard—is shaped like a half-dome.

The inside is fully shaded, thanks to the flora covering every inch of the arch.

The dome isn’t deep, but it isn’t meant for anyone to go inside. Its one job is to shield the engraved stone that rests in the center, buried beneath the ground just enough to prop it up and easily read its inscription.

Angel Consoli

Loved and missed

Every minute of forever.

Delicate flowers are etched into the stone, softening its melancholy symbolism with a touch of beauty. Flowers, stones, and a small fountain decorate the area, with matching chairs placed on either side of the bench.

Logan surprised me with this garden a few months ago—as soon as it was warm enough for the flowers to bloom.

He consulted world-renowned landscapers and gardeners for guidance, but he was determined to build the entire thing himself.

His pride in completing this project was almost as heartwarming as the garden itself.

It’s my favorite place in the world.

I considered having the ceremony here tomorrow, but quickly dismissed the idea.

Marrying the Consoli boss isn’t as easy as creating a legal certificate for us—although sometimes I wish it were.

Our wedding is currently a three-hundred-person event, and that was after heavy cuts were made.

The guest list isn’t important to me—the only thing I care about is finally becoming Mrs. Consoli—but it is important to Logan.

The family boss’s wedding is the event of the year, and apparently, everyone wants an invitation.

If I’d asked, Logan would’ve canceled the entire thing and had the ceremony in our living room with only immediate family, but I didn’t ask.

I knew when I said yes to Logan’s proposal that I wasn’t just marrying him, but accepting the role of a boss’s wife. While it doesn’t exactly come naturally to me, I take pride in the position. I’m excited to show everyone that I’m the woman standing at Logan’s side.

So, a big wedding it is, and the small enclosed garden isn’t large enough to accommodate everyone invited, but it’s just as well. This area isn’t meant for them.

It’s private, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Six months was a fast turnaround for such a large wedding, but it feels like it’s been years since I said yes to Logan in that hospital room.

In that time, the Consolis have become my family.

Elise and Isabella are the sisters I never had, and James and Damon take being brothers very seriously, making it a point to tease or annoy me whenever they can.

I’ve gotten to know Rachel and Ryder well, and I absolutely adore their kids.

Dominic is exactly what I imagine Logan was like as a young boy, and Lyla is the sweetest girl.

Moreno and I have a tolerate-hate kind of relationship, but we put up with each other well enough.

I even reached out to my mother to meet for the first time in years. She was pleasantly surprised to meet my fiancé, who behaved like a gentleman despite the grudge he’s held against her since learning about our past.

My soon-to-be husband also made it a point to compensate Mark’s family.

The police department determined his death was the result of a carjacking gone wrong—and I suppose it’s a version of the truth.

While he’s never said the words out loud, I know Logan feels guilty about Mark getting mixed up with the Diazes in the first place, and the compensation is his imperfect form of atonement.

And tomorrow, I will officially be the wife of that perfectly imperfect man.

I planned on walking myself down the aisle, but after months of experiencing Damon’s brotherly affection and protection, it felt right to ask him to give me away.

Even if his response was: I can’t think of a single reason I should give you to that bastard .

He did eventually—and enthusiastically—accept the role.

In addition to the madness of wedding planning, we’re still dealing with the aftermath of Diaz taking all of the traitors.

Every one of those traitors has intimate knowledge of our family operations, and they’ve handed those details over to Diaz on a silver platter in gratitude.

That left us with the immediate task of changing everything about how we run as a family—not an easy feat for such a large faction, but we’ve proven it’s possible.

Security was the first thing that needed to change. Within a week of being released from the hospital, Logan implemented a series of new security measures, as well as new screenings, to ensure that we keep the traitors and Diaz out by all means.

Ford and I were forced to move past our differences—for the most part—since the IT department needed to be updated and upgraded in every way imaginable. From simple logins to high-level security encryptions, we changed it all.

Diaz hasn’t used his information to launch any real attacks, but it’s only because he’s making a point of pushing Logan into retaliation—a retaliation that we have every intention of delivering.

When the time is right.

Every once in a while, there’s a faint hiss in my head that blames me for all of it. Logically, I know that Diaz was pulling the strings, but maybe I could’ve done something differently, too.

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if I’d never left?” I ask.

“No.”

“Never? You never think we could’ve kept Diaz from the list? You never think about how much easier it would’ve been to never go through any of that?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I’m too busy being grateful you’re back,” he says with a shrug, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

He runs one hand over the scar on my left shoulder—the one that’s rough and jagged from being opened twice.

Getting Diaz’s tracker out of my arm wasn’t a pleasant experience, and the irony wasn’t lost on either of us that if Logan had sliced my arm any deeper in my Payson apartment, the tracker would’ve come out on its own.

Perhaps the only one-up we’ve managed to get on Diaz came from the reverse track I was able to do once the tracker was out. It led us to a house in Miami that we hadn’t known was a Diaz residence, and we’ve been keeping an eye on it ever since.

“Besides,” Logan continues, “you staying wouldn’t have stopped Diaz from finding another way. It could’ve been worse.”

I pull back to look at his face, and sure enough, sweat drips from his forehead. “Worse than permanent nerve damage in your feet?”

He leans in to kiss me, and I let him, enjoying every second of his lips moving over mine.

“You’re here. We’re getting married. My family is safe. It might not have been the most conventional series of events, but I’ll take it.”

“So, you’re happy?”

He shakes his head.

“No?”

“Nope,” he answers with another shake.

“Why the hell not?”

“First, I think I’m about to have a heatstroke, which would be novel in the same year I went into hypothermia.”

“You’re an idiot,” I say, hitting his arm as I push off him to stand. “Let’s get you inside before you pass out.”

He ignores me, standing and stepping forward to wrap his arms around my waist. “Second, I’m still twenty-four long hours away from making you Mrs. Consoli, and I can’t imagine anything is going to make me happier than that.”

My heart flutters in my chest, and even though I promised myself I’d wait until tomorrow, I can’t bring myself to pass on the perfect opportunity.

“Nothing?” I ask with a lifted brow.

Another shake of his head.

“Not even a baby?”

Logan’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. His eyes widen, filled with hope and disbelief, as his hands slowly circle my waist to cup my stomach.

“Kasey,” he says slowly. “Are you—are we?”

I nod, incapable of stopping my face-splitting grin.

One second, my feet are firmly planted on the ground. The next, I’m wrapped up in Logan’s arms as he spins us, and our laughs are a harmony of pure joy.

He eventually slows and brings me back to earth, leaning down to kiss me hard.

“You’re right,” he murmurs against my lips. “ This is the happiest I have ever been.”

I wholeheartedly agree with him.