Relief flooded through me. I didn’t know what I was going to do if her mom had cancer. She’d told me over the phone, but it was another thing entirely to hear it in person. It was just the little bit of good news they needed. And I was glad for both of them. And for my father. Branch Graves might have a chance yet to win back Miranda’s heart.
“Really?” Rose asked.
“Yes, really.”
I heard her crying before I saw it. I had a feeling that was what her reaction was going to be. I gave them space, walking over and sitting down on a park bench. Everything was going to be all right.
“You’re a tricky bastard, you know that?” my father said as he came up and sat down next to me.
“I learned it from watching you, dad.” I admitted, grinning. “Got you to talk to her, and not just on the phone either.”
“She was something in her day. Hell, she still is,” he said as he winked at me.
“Don’t waste this,” I said. I was talking to him, but I was also talking to me. I wouldn’t waste this chance with Rose. Not ever.
“Do Graves men waste any opportunity they are handed?” he asked.
“Apparently I do,” I said as I looked over at the opportunity staring back at me. I was giving everything up for her. And I wasn’t sorry. Not for one second.
“No, you take the best of them,” he admitted. “I was wrong, son. She’s worth it.”
She was the best. The best thing I’d ever had in my entire life.
And she was all mine.
Epilogue
I looked down at my growing belly and smiled. I was going to have to get an empire waisted gown, but I didn’t care. I was happy.
“You look beautiful,” I said to Jess. She had her dress on and was staring in front of the mirror.
“Have I thanked you lately for not killing Brandon?” she asked.
“And cursed me for it. Several times.” I grinned at her and grabbed her veil helping it on her head.
“Yeah, well, you know how he is. He’s… Brandon.” She blushed.
“And you love him,” I grinned.
“I do.”
They were so in love.
And so was I. I stepped out of the little bedroom that we were getting ready in and walked down the stairs to find my handsome groom-to-be waiting for me.
“You’re beautiful,” he said as he wrapped his arms around me. Six months and I didn’t feel always feel beautiful. “Just got off the phone with the contractor.”
But when he was there with me I did.
“How is the house coming?” I asked. The little story book house was big enough for the two of us, but with a baby on the way we needed more space. He was getting the chance to use build his dream.
And he was my dream.
I loved him.
“It’s going to be perfect for us, and our family,” he said as he kissed the top of my head, his hand resting on my belly.
And that’s when the baby kicked.
“See, even she’s happy,” he said as gave it a little rub.
“She? I thought we agreed not to find out,” I said.
“It’s just an educated guess,” he said. “If she’s anything like her mom she’ll have me wrapped around her finger.”
Yeah, my life was pretty much perfect.
Afterword
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Wed to the Bad Boy
Chapter One
Joanna
The first time I saw him he was chained against a frame, his lip split and his eye black and blue. He stared at me through the swollen eyes and the broken nose, blood trickling down his brow. It was like he was looking right through me. Because he was.
He was still devastatingly handsome, but what I didn't know was that he was going to be my undoing. And I just stood there while they beat him with the buckle of his belt.
The mob sent one of their best enforcers to do it.
I didn't dare say a word, not to him, not to the other man down there. I was just eye candy. My job was to serve the drinks and keep my head down. The daughter of a man who owed more than my life was worth.
"Scotch, on the rocks. Now." The deep rumble of Janson Mactavish got me moving.
I nodded and turned to the bar, dumping ice in and trying not to jump each time the metal of the belt connected with the skin of the man chained. He sucked in breath after breath, but he never screamed. Barely grunted.
"Nothing, you son of a bitch? Not even an apology?" Mactavish hit him again, reaching out for his Scotch with one hand and throwing the belt with the other. Janson was controlled the entire time; no anger rose in his voice as he did it, no bile. It was like he was conducting a routine.