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Kenni sticks out her bottom lip, all pouty and perfect, and I suck on it like candy, teasing her. She giggles as she squirms away. There’s not a more important sound I’ll ever hear than her laughing. From the time we were kids, it always struck me. When I heard it, my heart immediately skipped a beat.
My breath ghosts her skin with phantom-like kisses. “You’re making it hard to resist you, wearing my old Sarasota Sharks jersey.” My dick strains against my pants, wanting nothing more than to fill her sadness.
She rises to her knees. “It’s where we restarted our life. After pain meds and food, I realized that it’s not about where we get married—it’s that we get married. Can we forget the pact?” She kisses one cheek then switches sides, finding the corner of my lips.
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Lying her down on the bed, I lift her shirt, showering her with wet kisses from her belly to her lips. With my arm enveloping her waist, I flip us over so she’s on top, wanting her hair to brush against my skin while we make love.
Those brilliant green eyes peer down at me as her smile fades, replaced by a serious expression. “I’ll be happy no matter what because I’ll be Kennison Marie Shepherd.”
“Umm. I love the way my last name sounds at the end of yours.” My fingers trace the outline of her face before my thumb grazes her lower lip. Tugging it down, I suck it slowly, beginning a long exchange of kisses.
After removing our shirts, she rests against my chest. My calloused fingers skate over her back, and she lets out a small sigh as her body relaxes into me. I whisper over her hair, “I love you.” Before I can break our no sex before the wedding pact, her breathing slows, and faint, muffled snores emanate across my chest.
Lying awake for hours thinking about the wedding re-plan that needs to take place this week, my spirit is calm knowing she’s happy, even if she can’t get married in a countryside English castle.
It’s after sunrise when my phone lights up with a message from Tackett.
Tackett: I found a castle. I should be elevated to the Best Man.
5
Kenni
In the blink of an eye, our lives took an unexpected turn, propelling Wils and me in opposite directions. This time, it’s a happy change. Almost a week later, we’re gazing upon a castle sitting back off the road, high on a hill, surrounded by the soft, rolling hills of Kentucky.
“Tackett, we can’t thank you enough. It’s gorgeous,” I say, admiring the stone structure where Wils and I will get married.
Tackett stuff his hands into his pockets, blushing. He’s the youngest of our friend group and is cocky as hell on the field but off he’s a cinnamon roll. “I can’t take all the credit.” Tackett points to Hagan and Harper, Archer’s younger twin siblings. “I felt terrible for spoiling your shower. I recalled Hagan mentioning a castle outside of Lexington when he first transferred to the university. So, I reached out to see how I could make it up to you and Wilson. After that, a chain reaction began. Logan, their roommate, overheard and shared that his sister knew the owner. His sister made a late-night call and set up the meeting for you.”
“And here we are,” I say, shivering. “A castle in Kentucky. Who knew?”
Wils draws me under his wing. Wils says, “Thanks to all of you for helping me make her dreams come true, even if it’s different.”
“It not just different, it’s better. Getting married on the rooftop of a castle, Oh Wesley,” I laugh. “I mean Wils.”
“I’m going to Wesley you. So, my princess bride, will you marry me here at Castle Post?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my jean jacket.
I thread my hands around his neck, playing with the curls under his black beanie. “Yes, it’s perfect. Better than the castle in England.” He peppers me with PG kisses, and everyone claps.
“Alright, let’s go inside, have lunch, and decide how to divide and conquer,” Wils says, clapping his hands.
“Did you bring your colored pens?” I ask Megan, which amuses everyone. She’s a color coder, like so many successful people.
“I did. The tasks are divided into categories. During lunch, we’ll assign a category to a group of people. The guys will take travel arrangements because that doesn’t take creativity,” she smirks.
Her husband, Archer, replies, “I’m creative. Remember what I did with your toy—”
She interrupts him abruptly, covering his mouth and with a firm expression, and retorts, “Not in front of your siblings.”
Following our lunch, we head to the farmhouse, close to the castle, which will serve as the accommodations for the entire wedding party until the big day.
When Wils informed Archer about the new venue in Versailles, Kentucky, Archer wasted no time and dialed friends who live in the same quaint town. His friends possess a breathtaking colonial mansion that’s unoccupied while the owners are away in Southern California.
Miles of white fencing adorns the brown fields while a few white barns dot the landscape.
“Who wants to go horseback riding?” my future husband asks.
“Me!” I exclaim.
