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“I’ve got a week to consider my options,” Bryn announces at the same time she snatches up a package I don’t recognize. “So…for now…let’s focus on you. And our family.”
She’s flashed a small smile.
“Starting with these.” The opening of her box is theatrical. “They’re chocolate peanut butter stuffed hunks of foodgasms.” She waits until I’ve grabbed one to dangle it in front of J.T. “They’re from Yasmine’s Yummies who will be catering our wedding.” Post him grabbing one, she offers them to Evie – who declines – and Jenni – who doesn’t. “The owner, Yasmine, is a total baking badass, by the way.” I watch her saunter across the room to deliver one to Holmes and Hill. “She told me her specialty is non-traditional treats, so we could pretty much request whatever we want, no questions asked. We want it? She’ll figure out how to fucking make it.”
Pleased that my other half has not only returned to planning our wedding but genuinely seems excited about it, prompts me to smile.
Wide.
Bryn’s mouth begins to move again yet is unfortunately interrupted by a knock on the door beside her.
Holmes gestures her away with his cookie bearing hand and cautiously checks the peephole. “Name?”
“Joel.” The timid voice from the other side of the door announces. “Joel Righetti.” A short pause presents itself. “One of the filming assistants with today’s event.”
My stomach instantly drops.
Returns to its previous unsettled state.
“Badge?” Holmes demands, face still smushed against the blockade.
Post another brief lull, my security guard grants him access inside, making sure to snag a bite of the cookie in his possession prior to ushering the young man my direction.
“It’s time to get you mic’ed, Mr. Wilcox.”
I nervously nod and prepare to rise to my feet when my wife to be sternly points. “Eat your cookie.”
The loving scolding has me bobbing my head in agreement.
Indulging.
As much as I would rather have a shot of alcohol to steady my nerves a rush of sugar beats the shit out of nothing.
Together, me and my entire entourage relocate to the area where numerous cameras are waiting to hit record.
To plaster my face all over screens worldwide.
My team positions themselves on the side wall near the door to be out of the way of the cameras; however, before I can join Monica in the presentation space she’s created, the love of my life abruptly winds both arms around my neck and knocks her mouth into mine.
Our lips spread just enough to allow a brief brushing of our tongues, but it’s enough.
Enough to reassure me everything will be fine.
Enough to remind me that unlike what I had convinced myself earlier in this journey to be the truth, I’m not alone.
I’ll never be alone.
When Bryn pulls back, she adoringly whispers, “I love you, Mr. Wayne.”
Warmth spreading throughout my chest has me cooing, “And I love you, Miss Kyle.”
One affectionate squeeze of shoulders from her along with one supportive nod from J.T. propels me to the area where Monica is adjusting her blouse. She doesn’t even bother looking up when she comments on my wardrobe, “How nice of you to wear black and a touch of white, Wes.” The bright lighting around us is moved around a smidge. “It will help emphasize the transparency your family lacks.” At that, she lets her gaze find mine. “I mean our family.”
Instead of giving into the instinct to glare and gripe about how ridiculous she’s being, I merely straighten my spine and push my shoulders back.
Lift my chin.
Inhale a deep breath and remember that hiding her from the world was our father’s choice.
