Other than the panic attack, my wedding day is turning out pretty good.
“We should’a brought the snacks in here,” I murmur, completely relaxed and at peace in Carter’s arms. “Seriously, your sister was right. The reception spread sorta sucks.”
“Want me to get them?” he asks, but I shake my head.
“Stay here. I’m comfy despite your being a rock-hard pillow. And we can eat later.”
With a chuckle, he gathers me back into his embrace. He loops his finger through a strand of my hair that escaped my hairdo hours ago, twirling it over and over, and we . . . relax. As husband and wife.
I tune in to my heart, checking to see if it’s racing again, but it doesn’t change. There’s no panic this time.
Mr. and Mrs. Carter Harrington.
That has a nice ring to it, actually. I fidget with the new band on my left ring finger, expecting it to feel odd. But it feels okay, comfortable even.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
CARTER
It’s technically not our honeymoon since we’re supposed to have already been married, but I wish I could hole up at my place with Luna. Our place. She’s keeping her apartment, planning to use it as a getaway to work and paint, but for the last week, she’s been here with me and it’s been amazing.
Waking up every morning in each other’s arms.
Having coffee together.
Kissing her goodbye as I go to the office, usually with her curled up on the couch, lost in her tablet as she creates Alphena’s world.
And after a busy day, coming home to her, opening the door knowing that she’s going to slam into me for a hug.
Her asking how my day was and telling me about her day at the museum.
Cooking and eating dinner while we talk about everything and nothing.
Falling into bed and each other, only to wake up and do it all again the next day.
I don’t know what the difference is between this and a real marriage, at this point. All I know is that Luna is on my mind all day when I’m away from her, and when we’re together, I want to do everything I can to make her happy. I enjoy seeing her smile. I love seeing her coming out of her shell more and more each day, letting her guard down around me. Listening to her talk about plot points of the story she’s working on and the tour groups she had are more fun than I ever would’ve thought, especially when she starts acting out the book scenes, with her starring as Alphena, of course.
Luna makes my days interesting and my nights hotter than I’ve ever dreamed, giving me a fresh purpose.
Right now, though, I straighten my tie, staring into the blue eyes in the mirror. Today is the culmination of what all this is for. “You’ve got this, Harrington. It’s just another deal.”
If only that were true. Elena’s ready to work with Blue Lake if I can get past this finance guy today, and if he’s smart and recognizes how far over his head he is, he’ll be thrilled to hand off responsibility to me. Because I can handle it. I’m the best man for the job.
“I’m the best man.” Saying it aloud gives it meaning and weight.
“I knew you were arrogant, but your hype sessions are a tad egotistical,” Luna teases from the doorway, holding her finger and thumb up a big inch apart.
I lean back on the counter with my arms crossed over my chest as I fight back a smirk. She caught me being cocky fair and square. “What would you suggest instead”
She walks toward me, tilting her head the way she does when she’s thinking, and then hops onto the counter next to me. I can’t wait to hear what she comes up with. “My hype sessions are usually lots of . . . don’t freak out, remember to breathe, nobody’s staring at you, smile. You’re welcome to use whatever feels right to you.”
She puts her hand over her heart, her face serious, but her eyes are dancing with humor.
I move in front of her, and she automatically opens her legs for me. I step between them, liking the way her knees squeeze me. “I think I’ll go with the smile recommendation. Elena seems charmed by it.” I flash Luna a full-strength grin. “What do you think?”
She laughs, rolling her eyes. “Well, it seems to have worked on me.”
I plant a sweet kiss on her, wanting to feel her laugh, taste her smile. “I’m glad.”
She leans into our kiss, then pulls back reluctantly. She straightens my already perfect tie and then sweeps her hands over my chest to smooth my shirt. “You need to go.”
I don’t want to leave. I could stay here, crawl back into bed and into Luna. But she’s right. I can’t be late for this meeting. Grumpy about being responsible, I growl, “Okay, I’m leaving, but I’m not happy about it.” I kiss her one more time and reluctantly pull away. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“I’ll make a celebration dinner!” She claps her hands in excitement, and I raise a brow. She laughingly clarifies, “And by make dinner, I mean order in.”
One of the things I’ve learned about Luna is that she can’t cook for shit. She tries, but she admits she spends more time working than cooking and usually orders take-out. “Maybe the Indian place again?”
She grins, nodding. “I’ll set a timer so I remember to call it in.”
I can’t fight back the deep chuckle she draws out of me too easily with her animated expressions. What’s more, I don’t want or need to. She doesn’t mind when I’m goofy, something I don’t know if I’ve ever actually been.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Oleana. I appreciate your taking time to meet with me today.” I hold my hand out, shaking the older gentleman’s hand.
I’ve done my research on him. He’s an old-school, conservative fiscal manager who has worked with the Cartwrights for years, just like his father did before him. He looks the part too, in a classic navy suit with a white shirt and red tie, thick, black-framed glasses, and wingtip shoes.
To the uninitiated, he might seem like a mere accountant. The devil is in the details, though. His suit is custom-tailored, his tie one hundred percent silk, his shoes made of fine leather, and the watch I saw on his wrist is a vintage Rolex. Mr. Oleana might be traditional, but he likes the finer things.
“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Harrington. Though I daresay I’ve met you once or twice before through Blue Lake’s dealings . . . but you were a lad then. Barely knee-high to a grasshopper.” He laughs as though sharing a private joke with Elena, who’s sitting next to him at the conference table, as he holds a palm toward the floor, indicating I must’ve been around twenty-four inches tall.
Oh, so that’s how we’re playing this, then? I’m just a young whippersnapper?
His angle is that I’m far too young to take over the Cartwright holdings. I’d expected that to be one of the potential concerns, so I’m ready with a quippy answer. “Maybe so. I don’t remember much about those days. Guess you can probably relate.” I chuckle as I tap my temple.
“Ooh, he’s got you there, Pat.” Elena gleefully claps her hands, her eyes flicking back and forth as though our verbal volleys are a tennis match.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Oleana frowns, the marionette lines surrounding his thin lips getting deeper and more pronounced.