I pull her back against my chest, feeling her shuddering breath. I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of coconut oil she uses on her braids.
“We should get dressed, and I need to pack some things.”
She pulls back. “Pack? What do you mean?”
“I’ll move to that empty rental on Lakeview Drive. The tenants recently moved.”
“What? Connor, no—”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Having Fréd here is unfair to you. I’ll stay at the rental until the wedding and after that we’ll move into our brand new house.”
A year ago, we’d set about designing and constructing our house. Construction wrapped up a month ago and we had put off decorating until after the wedding.
Meesha throws her arms around my neck, pulling me down to her. “I love you so much,” she whispers against my lips.
“Je t’aime aussi,” I murmur before capturing her mouth with mine.
The kiss deepens, her body melting against me as my hands slide down to grip her ass cheeks. I can taste the promise of our future on her lips—all the mornings and nights to come, all the fights we’ll resolve, all the joys we’ll share in the home we’ve built together.
And I know with absolute certainty nothing in this world could make me let her go.
Meesha
“Mama, she literally askedthe caterer if they could change the menu to something less ethnic.” I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder, juggling my coffee and badge as I power-walk toward Winter Bay Memorial. The late March air bites at my cheeks, a harsh reminder that spring in Winter Bay is still more winter than anything else.
“That woman has some nerve.” Mama’s voice crackles through the line. “What’s wrong with our menu choices?”
“She’s worried Caribbean food might flare her blood pressure.” I sidestep a patch of ice, nearly losing my balance. “Vivienne acts like I’m going to serve nothing but scotch bonnet peppers and rum cake.”
“What did Connor say?”
“He told her to be respectful, because he was the one who requested Caribbean food to be served. He specifically requested your curry shrimp recipe.”
“Of course he did. The boy has taste.” Mom’s approval of Connor has never wavered, even when she thought we were too young to date.
“Every decision becomes a battle. The menu, the flowers, even the music.” I push through the hospital’s revolving door, the warmth hitting me immediately.
“Baby girl, say the word and I’ll change my flight. I can be there next week instead of next month.”
I smile despite my frustration. Mom’s solution to everything since I was little was to insert herself between me and any problem.
It was sweet when I was being bullied in third grade. It’s less helpful now that I’m almost twenty-seven.
“I’ve got this, Mama. Promise,” I say, approaching the elevator. “Besides, if you came early, I’d have to bail you out of jail for what you might do to her.”
“That woman needs to understand you’re going to be Connor’s wife, not her competition.”
I swallow hard at the word “wife.” Six weeks until I’m Mrs. Beauregard. The thought sends a ripple of anxiety, excitement and panic through my chest.
“Speaking of competition, how’s the weather in Ruby Coast?” I ask, changing the subject. “Better than Winter Bay, I’m guessing?”
“Eighty-five and sunny, baby girl. My hibiscus are blooming like crazy.” The pride in her voice is unmistakable.
She’d moved back to Ruby Coast seven years ago to care for Grandma, and even though Grandma passed away two years later, Mom chose to stay there, falling in love with the island rhythm all over again.
“I should go.” The elevator doors close, sealing me in. “My shift starts in ten minutes.”
“Alright, but remember—”
