“Nova and I want to honor what he built. Carry it forward for his grandkids instead of letting it disappear forever.”
Mac looks away from me, struggling with his emotions. I don’t rush him because I know what this means to a man who lost his club, his president, his best friend, and his identity all around the same time.
“And you want me, even when there are younger and more capable men around that would be an honor to be your VP? What about Dog?”
“I don’t want a younger man, and I definitely don’t want Dog. I want you because I like you, I trust you, and you were always loyal to Vulture,” I explain.
“Say that one more time, because I want to make sure I’m hearing you correctly.”
“I want you to be my Vice President of Raging Vultures. My second in command. The man with enough balls to tell me when I’m headed down the wrong path or being an idiot.”
Mac sighs, “You need to know that I’m no good with paperwork.”
I pour him another inch of whiskey. “Mac, I’m an accountant. I’ve got paperwork covered for the rest of our fuckin’ natural lives. What I need is a man who knows the road, who knows the territory, who commands respect from the men who’ll be wearing our patch and who loved Vulture enough to carry his legacy forward even when things get hard. From where I’m sitting, you’re the one and only man truly qualified for the job. Are you up for the challenge or not?”
Mac runs one hand over his head. He’s getting emotional and trying to hide it. “Vulture used to say I was the best damn friend he ever had,” Mac says quietly. “I told him I was the only friend he ever had. He said that was why I was the best.”
I laugh. “That sounds exactly the way Nova describes her gramps.”
He sits taller and something in his eyes lights up in a way I’ve never seen before. “Say yes to being my VP, Mac. Help me make Raging Vultures the best club in the region.”
He downs his new pour in one drink and thunks the glass down on the table. “Alright,” he says, his voice layered with emotion. “I’ll be your VP. It would be my honor, Mica. I’ll do a good job for you, and we’ll make Vulture proud.”
I reach out my hand to make a gentleman’s handshake on the deal. Mac takes it. His grip is like iron and the look of determination in his eyes makes me believe we can do the impossible here.
I reach into my desk and pull out a huge hand drawn prototype of our logo. Mac knows immediately what I’ve done.
“You merged together Vulture’s old logo with the Sons logo. It wouldn’t take much for your tattoo to be reworked into this design.”
“It beats the hell out of blacking out my entire fuckin’ back.”
Mac’s eyes lift to mine. I see admiration, respect and the beginnings of a true friendship lurking there.
“You did good. Vulture would be so fuckin’ proud of what you’re doing here.”
“I’m glad. My one true regret in life is not getting to know him better before he passed. I’m gonna do everything within my power to see that his name and his legend live on.”
Epilogue
Nova
Three Months Later
Today we’re renewing our vows. I know we’re legally married, but we wanted to do this to show that we’re really married.
It’s not an arrangement anymore, and it was important for us to do something to mark the change in our relationship. Especially with all the new changes in our lives.
This little chapel was a great find. It sits at the end of a gravel road about fifteen minutes outside of town. I found it by accident a few weeks ago when I took a wrong turn. Once I caught sight of the steeple through a thicket of trees, I knew I had to investigate. It’s a picturesque traditional white chapel with tall arched windows and only ten pews, five on each side with an aisle in between. It’s nothing fancy but once we loaded it down with flowers it looks Instagram worthy.
I’m standing in a tiny dressing room in the back of the chapel with my hands on my belly and a white sundress that accentuates the gentle slope of my baby bump. I’m eleven weeks pregnant and proud to be carrying Mica’s child.
The dressing room has a small sofa, a mirror, a wooden chair, and a small table with a pitcher of fresh flowers to brighten the place up. I’m getting myself ready. It’s so relaxing not to have a throng of people hovering around trying to make everything perfect. I don’t get much time to myself, and Ireally wanted that on my special day. So, there are no stylists, attendants pinning my veil into place, or lacing me into a dress that costs more than my car. It’s just me, my pretty white sundress and this baby growing inside me.
I smooth the cool cotton over my belly and turn sideways in the mirror. I’m just far enough along that the bump is barely visible. Mica worships my little baby bump. He loves smoothing his hands over it and talking to our unborn child like she understands his every word. He’s convinced we’re having a girl for some reason.
I’m staring at my reflection in the mirror trying to figure out how I ended up with everything I ever wanted in a marriage that Cray arranged. It seems impossible, but it’s true.
Suddenly, Mica is standing in the doorway. He’s wearing comfortable faded jeans, a button up shirt with his new Raging Vultures cut. It’s the one with the merged logo he had one of his buddies from the military draw for him. My husband cleans up well. And I love the way he looks in casual clothing. This man was made to wear tight jeans and a leather cut.
