The Fixed Trilogy(Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You)(333)

“Patience, Mr. Pierce.” She’s always so good at throwing my own lines back to me.

The music starts and I smile. All of Me. Of course.

She snuggles into my arms and I bury my head in her neck, breathing in the scent of her. Her cherry body wash mingles with the blossoms in the air, but none of it can completely cover up the delicious aroma of Alayna’s skin—a combination of salt and sweet that I can’t describe but would recognize anywhere.

Though I want to hold her and enjoy her in this tender first dance as a married couple, I feel that I’ve had so little chance to talk to her today, and I can’t stop myself from doing so now. “It’s a beautiful wedding, Alayna. You did an excellent job.”

I feel her cheek tug into a smile at my shoulder. “Thank you. I had a lot of help, thanks to your money.”

“Our money,” I correct. As I’d promised the first time I asked her to marry me, I demanded no prenup. What’s mine is hers, openly and without question. I wonder if she’ll ever get used to it.

“Our money,” she concedes. “And it’s going well, I think.”

“Very well.” Very well, indeed.

“Did you notice Chandler’s been following Gwen around like a lost puppy?”

I had noticed. Though there’s too much lust in his eye for me to understand the puppy comparison. “She doesn’t seem to mind.” Gwen’s gaze also holds a degree of desire. Can Alayna see it?

“No, she doesn’t.” Alayna giggles. She does see it, then. “And everyone seems happy.”

“Everyone does at that.” And I’m the happiest.

She places a kiss on my neck that sends a jolt to my cock. “Even your mother has managed to remain polite.”

The mention of my mother has me limp. “She does seem slightly more in control of herself now that she’s sober.” Sophia’s only been home from upstate since January. She missed Mirabelle’s baby’s birth, something that I believe she regrets deeply, but she’s better now than she was, and I believe even Sophia thinks the sacrifice is worth it. “She still is a nasty old bitch, though, isn’t she?”

Alayna laughs, her hair tickling my neck with the movement, the sound tickling my heart with its purity. “You said it, not me.”

I hold her tighter and kiss her temple. This is everything I ever needed and never knew I wanted, wrapped up in the most beautiful of packages. Well, not quite everything. There’s still one thing left on the list.

I broach the subject I’ve been avoiding in a passive way. Perhaps it’s manipulative, but it’s who I am. “I saw you with Arin Marise, earlier. You’re so good with her.”

Arin Marise Sitkin is Adam and Mirabelle’s baby. My sister insists that she gave her daughter a name that couldn’t be shortened so that I’ll call her what everyone else calls her. But I’ve taken to calling her Arin Marise just to rile her up. She’s five and a half months old now, all cheeks and grins. Arin’s petite like her mother but feisty. You only notice her small stature in comparison to Braden, Alayna’s nephew who’s only four months old, but almost twice as big as Arin.

Alayna and I have never talked about children, not about our children, anyway. I’ve seen her with Arin and Braden and fallen in love with her all over again with the care and gentleness she gives them, but I’ve never brought up the actual topic. Perhaps it scared me, but it doesn’t scare me now. Not now that I know she’s mine truly and deeply no matter how this conversation goes.

I pull back from our embrace to look in her eyes, thinking I should probably put this off until a more appropriate time, but unable to wait another second to ask. “Do you…” I begin then start over. “Have you thought about children of your own?”

She leans forward to kiss my throat then, with her eyes cast down, says tentatively, “I’d probably fuck them up.”

That had always been my fear, and if it weighs too heavily on her, I’ll abandon the whole idea. I kiss her head again and then ask outright, “Would you like to fuck them up with me?”

She laughs again and meets my gaze, her eyes misty and her face aglow. “Yes,” she says without any hesitation or trace of doubt. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” I draw her closer and spin her around. “We can get started tonight in the plane. Or right now, if you prefer. I saw a rather large oak in one of the smaller gardens. I’m almost certain we could hide there, even with this dress of yours.”

“I’d love to see how you plan to get at me with all this material in the way.”