Page 55

Vivienne

The outdoor space at the hotel Hendrix and Poppy picked to host their wedding is breathtaking. Golden light filters through the trees and the laughter of guests fills the air, but all of that pales in comparison to Xavier standing at the altar with his chosen family.

The music changes and the girls come down the aisle, one after the other, each looking happy and beautiful. My chest fills with warmth reflecting on the day we shared and how they pulled me into the fold. I missed out on so much by shutting the world out, but they made it worth the wait.

All the guests shift, their attention drawn to the bride preparing to walk down the aisle alongside Janet. The James' family matriarch beams broadly at Poppy before they take their first steps down the aisle.

The breeze filters through the pines, ruffling the flowing fabric of her floral jumpsuit. She smooths a hand down Poppy's arm, leaning in to whisper something that makes her soon-to-be granddaughter-in-law throw her head back in laughter. Her joy echoes softly through the mountain clearing as they make their way to the altar.

Poppy is breathtaking in flowing lace, with intricate patterns glinting softly in the sunlight. Her red hair, swept up in a loose chignon that frames her glowing, freckled skin. She looks radiant--stunning--with the cascading train swaying gently with the breeze coming off the surrounding mountains.

They're still a few feet from the altar when Hendrix steps down, unable to wait any longer. He stops to embrace his grandmother first, leaning in as she talks into his ear. When he pulls back, he digs into his pocket for a handkerchief, gently dabbing Janet's cheek before wiping his own.

With a gentle pat to his chest, right over his heart, and a kiss to her grandson's cheek, Janet takes the open seat beside her boyfriend, Marv, in the row in front of me.

Hendrix turns to Poppy, his eyes softening as he plants a firm kiss on her lips, drawing laughter and cheers from the guests. His grin is brighter than the sun peaking through the trees as he takes her hand and leads her the rest of the way to the altar.

But my focus skips over the happy couple to find Xavier already looking at me. The openness of his gaze has tears prickling at my eyes again, and I have to pull my gaze down to check on Holland before I lose it.

Every detail of the ceremony is simple and poignant, focusing on the bond Hendrix and Poppy share. The officiant speaks of enduring love--the kind that transforms a partner into a home, a family, and a forever. It's a sentiment reflected in the way Hendrix looks at Poppy, unable to take his eyes off her as she stands beside him.

When Hendrix reads his vows, he's steady, his voice filled with devotion. He praises Poppy's patient love and creative mind, makes promises to always assume positive intent and never forget the way he feels right now.

Unlike her husband, Poppy's voice trembles with emotion as she recites her vows. She thanks Hendrix for giving her unconditional love and for being her champion at every turn. As they exchange rings, her hand shakes, but the warmth in his gaze as he encourages her steadies them both.

When the officiant announces them husband and wife, Hendrix doesn't wait. He sweeps Poppy into another kiss--this one lasting longer than the first. When they pull apart, they join hands, linking them together as they beam at each other.

It's almost too much for me to take because I want that too.

The music dies down and the guests around me stand to rejoin the wedding party inside for drinks and dancing before dinner. Xavier steps down from the altar, taking Holland from me as I push up off the bench.

I grab the diaper bag and lean into him, letting him lead me inside. There's a private room off the reception space that's been made into a makeshift nursery for the two babies, so we drop Holland's stuff and Xavier takes advantage of the space, laying her in the swing and pulling me close.

There's a desperation in the way his mouth hovers over mine as he backs me into the wall. "I need your mouth." One soft brush against the corner of my mouth before he adds a pleading, "Can you give that to me, sweetheart?"

"Don't mess up my lipstick," I warn, my tone half serious, half playful.

Heeding my warning, he presses his lips to my neck--the delicate curve right below her ear. Lingering, he sucks gently on the sensitive skin there until my breath hitches and a soft, shaky laugh escapes.

His deep sigh washes over me. It's the sound of a man who doesn't want to stop but knows he needs to. Reaching between us, Xavier adjusts himself.

"Can we skip out before dinner? We're not alone enough for how badly I need you."

"We cannot. Unless you want to be the worst wedding guest in your friend group, we need to stay through dinner and at least one dance."

He groans dramatically. "I don't like it."

I pat his lapel. "You'll survive. And if you stay for cake cutting, I'll do that thing you want where I hang my head off the bed."

That gets his attention. Pushing off the wall next to me, he takes my hand, practically dragging me out of the room. "Maybe I can bribe the wedding planner to start dinner early."

I giggle because he's serious about it.

"Then, after dinner, I want a dance where I don't have to pretend like you're not mine."

When the nanny Hendrix and Poppy hired for the night walks in with Jarret, Xavier gives her the rundown of Holland's schedule and points out the diaper bag, never letting go of my hand.

Following Xavier, we rejoin the rest of the guests. The music in the reception area is soft as people wander, making small talk and grabbing drinks before dinner starts.

We find the wedding party gathered by the cake, getting ready to pour champagne for a toast with the bride and groom, who've just come in after taking pictures.

Well, everyone but Mia, who's got the cutest little bump rounding out her belly.

"Good, you guys are here."

I take a glass from Indie and Xavier takes one from Dean, holding them up as Hendrix clears this throat.

"Before things get crazy, I want to tell you all how much it means to Poppy and I to have you here. Since the beginning, you all have rooted for us--you've become the family that chooses us over and over again. I know that fifty years from now, we'll be standing together, surrounded by our kids and grandchildren, toasting each other for more big moments, because you can't break a bond like we have."

Poppy sniffles, and he pulls her in, brushing his lips across her forehead.

"So, here's to you. Thank you for your love, your loyalty, and, most importantly, making me see sense when it escapes me. We wouldn't be here without you. Let's raise a glass to lifelong friendships and making even more memories tonight."

Cheers of agreement ring out as glasses clink together.

Later, with our bellies full from dinner and my head slightly fuzzy from the elated atmosphere that permeates every part of the night, Xavier leads me out onto the dance floor. Familiar chords float through the room, meaningful and bittersweet. My feet stop working halfway across the dance floor. It's the same song--the one that played at the gala all those months ago, when everything felt simpler. It was the start of a friendship I never saw coming. My eyes well with tears that I don't try to stop as a velvety voice sings about a couple letting the world burn around them as they dance.

And now, here we are, dancing to it again, and I know, without a doubt, that Xavier would dance with me while the world was on fire.

His hand rests firmly on my waist, holding me close as he guides me through the rhythm. The song feels like a confession.

"How much longer do we have to stay?" Xavier asks, his eyes flicking between mine.

"You're not getting out of this dance that easily." My grip on him tightens because I want to guard this memory and never let it slip away.

Xavier closes the space between us, molding our bodies together, his roaming hands caressing every inch of exposed skin, running up my arms, sliding under the strap of my dress, cupping the side of my neck, my face, brushing his lips over my forehead. Anyone watching can see that he wants me--that he cares for me.

"I love being yours, Vivienne," he whispers softly, his lips grazing my neck.

Before I can catch my breath from that admission, the tempo shifts to something more upbeat--a classic wedding song with choreographed dance moves--and Xavier drags me off the dance floor toward the nursery.

I have to jog to keep up as he dodges people, pulling me closer to Holland. "They haven't cut the cake yet."

"Don't care. We can do that another night. It's been six weeks since we've seen each other for more than an hour at a time."

"I've stayed over," I remind him.

"Yeah, well, I hope you don't plan on sleeping tonight." My cheeks ache from how many times he's made me smile tonight, but the look he shoots me over his shoulder as he pushes through the door of the nursery shuts me right up.

The nanny looks up from where she's feeding Jarret, surprised to see us.

Xavier tips the nanny and gathers Holland's things while I walk to the portable crib and lift her out of it. Our sleepovers these last few weeks have given me extra time with Holland, so even if I haven't gotten as much time with her dad as I would like, the two of us have spent plenty of nights together in the rocker as of late.

"Shhh," I hum, swaying side to side with Holland in my arms as Xavier calls the elevator. The doors slide open with a soft chime, and we step inside, the space feeling impossibly small. Each ding of the floors as we climb toward our two-bedroom suite has my heartbeat kicking hard against my ribs.

Xavier leans against the opposite wall, ankles crossed and his gaze fixed on me with a heat that makes the air between us electric. His gaze burns me up, a mix of admiration and untamed want that sends a shiver down my spine.

"I don't care what we do when we get to that hotel room. Whether I'm inside you once or all night, I just want to be together," he says, his voice rough, like he's barely holding himself back.

I swallow hard, trying to focus on the glowing numbers above the doors, or the baby in my arms, instead of the magnetic pull to him.

The elevator dings one last time, and Xavier straightens, adjusting the strap of the diaper bag. "I didn't think it was possible, but you look even more beautiful tonight than you did at the gala," he says.

My cheeks burn, and I glance at him, trying to gauge how far he's going to push this tonight. His eyes don't waver, they settle over me with sincerity that hits me square in the chest.

"Xavier," I say, my lips curving into a warning smile.

"I'm done holding back," he replies, stepping closer as the elevator slows. "We've lost too much time already. If I have to leave you again to go back on the road next week, you're going to know where we stand and everything you're missing when we're apart . "

The doors slide open, giving me an escape from the intensity of the moment. I want this man and I'm ready to tell him how much, but sweet baby Jesus, I need a moment.

"Vivienne," he whispers, my name hanging between us like a thread, his voice steady with his request. "I hope you're ready."

I nod, the simple gesture enough to make him join me in the hallway. His broad shoulders fill the narrow space, the sharp lines of his suit showing off his impressive figure as he walks ahead. The man is just as strong physically as he is emotionally, and that's something I'll never take for granted, again.

I follow in silence, the soft sound of our footsteps on the carpeted floor the only noise, the tension between us thick enough to drown out everything else.

Xavier steps into the room first, the diaper bag slipping from his shoulder onto the nearby chair--his suit jacket follows. With practiced ease, he takes Holland from me, laying her down in the portable crib, his movements careful. I linger in the doorway, watching as he removes the small blanket from earlier today and brushes his hand over her head. I've seen him in countless tender moments, but this one hits me harder than any other.

Once she's settled, he stands, taking a moment to look down at her sleeping face before turning to me. His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, neither of us speaks.

Wordlessly, he takes my hand, leading me to the other bedroom.

"I've missed you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, though I'm not sure why I'm trying to keep it down--the door to the other room is shut.

He steps closer, his gaze steady, unreadable. "You don't have to keep missing me. Throw the rules out the window. Be with me for real."

My legs bump the soft edge of the bed and I sit, looking up at the only man who's ever come close to owning every piece of me. "I already have. The rules were gone the moment I came home from California."

"Which one went first?" His knees land on either side of my hips, straddling me and forcing me back. He's everywhere, his elbows on either side of my head, not letting me run yet.

"It was never about sex. The first time I let you inside me, it was already more."

His hand covers my heart, easing me backwards. "And the other rules."

"Well, there haven't been any other men." I laugh nervously, rambling in front of this man once again.

"And . . ."

"This is at least our third date, so that one is long gone, too."

"There's only one left. It's time to make you fall in love with me."

I blink up at him, not sure what to say because tonight that feels like a real possibility. I'm so close, it wouldn't take much at all.

I sit up, giving him a soft kiss.

"Before we go further, I need to tell you something."

I promised Tenley I'd let her tell him on her own terms tomorrow, but now it feels wrong. She might be mad at me, but she'll have to deal.

"Um, okay."

"Tenley is leaving for a study abroad in Spain. It starts in January. She's going to tell you herself tomorrow, and she's got a friend that's interested in helping with Holland while she's gone."

He looks at the door where his daughter sleeps on the other side, but when his eyes find mine again, they're filled with quiet compassion for me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sad she's leaving." I wipe my face expecting tears, but they come away dry. "Well, that's not entirely true. Obviously, I'll miss her, but I want her to go--to experience another culture. To learn, to grow, to flourish. I want all those things for her and she almost didn't go because she was afraid of how it would affect me."

"Oh." He sits back on his heels, still on top of me but giving me space.

Space I don't want.

"I should have told you when I came over earlier, but I was afraid it would ruin our night, but I . . . I needed to tell you. This whole 'being open' thing is new and I'm not sure exactly how it's supposed to work, but I listened to my gut."

"That's pretty much it." He pushes a head through his hair. "I'm really proud of you. Two months ago, that would have made you spiral and run. You would have self-destructed over it."

"Probably."

He lifts off of me and I grab hold of his shirt, fisting it and pulling him back. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure. I thought you might want a second."

"All I want is you."

He doesn't waste any more time. His lips meet mine in an urgent kiss. I claw at his shirt, tugging at the buttons, fighting to free them. When that fails, I pull the shirt free from his waistband, slipping underneath the white button down to find hot skin stretched over his toned stomach.

With more restraint than I can muster, Xavier undoes the top few buttons before pulling it over his head. Then he's dropping to his knees and slipping my heels off one by one. His hands brush under my dress, lifting it to my waist in one hurried tug.

I lift my hips and let him pull the dress over my head. Goosebumps prickle my skin as they bloom across it. Xavier steps back, my dress in his hand, wearing nothing but his black dress pants.

This moment is big and I want to memorize every detail--the hard lines of his chest, the way his free hand rakes through his red hair, leaving it deliciously disheveled. His expression mirrors my own, a mix of awe and something unspoken, something that steals the breath from my lungs.

"Show me," I say, my voice trembling, hoping he understands the plea buried between the lines.

You have to leave again, so show me what I'm missing when you're gone.