Crap. I was back to teary again. I wished Lucian was here. He always knew how to calm me down…or rile me up, depending on the situation.
I thought about texting him and then remembered that Naomi had my phone to document the big day without me having to do the documenting.
A tap at the window startled me. I spun in a voluminous pool of taffeta and satin to find Lucian Freaking Rollins crouched on the porch roof in a tuxedo.
I ran to the window as he opened it.
“I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” I said even as I half dragged him through the window.
He stood staring at me, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t believe in bad luck. Not anymore.” His smile was devastating.
“What do you think?” I asked, twirling in front of him.
“I think you’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen and I’m the luckiest man on earth.”
It was the boob-highlighting corset top, I decided.
I stopped twirling and fell into his arms. “Good answer.”
“Are you still sure about everything?” he asked, tipping my chin up to look into my eyes.
“Marrying you?”
“Marrying me. Two weeks in Fiji. Fostering. All of it.”
When we returned from our excessively sexy honeymoon, we would be beginning the application process to become foster parents. Traditional baby-making efforts were still ongoing and very, very enjoyable, but neither of us wanted to wait to start our family.
“Absolutely,” I promised. The tears were welling up dangerously fast this time. “Thank you for making all my dreams come true, big guy.”
Lucian ran a thumb under my eye, catching a tear as it spilled free.
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” he said earnestly.
“Nope! No! Stop it right now,” I ordered as I stepped out of his arms. “No more sweetness or I’ll cry and ruin my entire face, and Tiffany scares the hell out of me. She might call off the wedding.”
“Tell me what you need,” he said, a faint smile curving his lips.
“I need one of your insulting pep talks. Don’t hold back,” I insisted, gesturing for him to bring it on.
His smile was wicked. “Get your shit together, Sloane. Do you want to look like Alice Cooper in our wedding photos that are going to be splashed all over publications across the country? I thought you were tougher than that.”
“Good. That’s good. Keep it coming.”
“If I so much as see one single tear on that beautiful fucking face of yours before you walk down that aisle to me, I’ll tell Tiffany we want her to plan every anniversary party for the rest of our lives.”
I gasped. “Mean!”
“Don’t be a fucking baby.”
“Me? You better keep it together since you’re the one who’s been dreaming about this since the first time you climbed that damn cherry tree,” I shot back.
“You’ll be happy to know that ‘that damn cherry tree’ is weight-bearing again. The tree surgeons did an excellent job.”
“Good. Keep distracting me,” I said.
“I have something for you.”
“Damn it, Lucifer!”
“Suck it up and deal with it,” he said, handing over a thick, rich-guy envelope.
“Where do you even buy stationery like this? Wealthy Person Mart?” I demanded, waving the linen envelope under his nose.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We shop at Riches R Us.”
Rolling my eyes, I opened the snooty envelope and pulled out the papers. “This is a lot of legalese. Did you just gift me a prenup? I told you I’d sign one.”
With a roll of his eyes, Lucian flipped through the pages and tapped one. “It’s not a prenup, Pix. It’s an endowment and paperwork to make the Simon Walton Foundation official.”
“Well, shit, big guy.” My eyes went right to the number. “Is that a phone number? Or is that an incredibly well-endowed endowment?”
“You did good work. This will allow it to continue. Maybe with a few full-time employees.”
I looked up at him, stunned. “Like Mary Louise?”
“Who better to handle the day-to-day? And I thought Allen might be interested in officially joining the fight now that he’s passed the bar. I also thought, though the decision is yours, my mother might be a good addition.”
Shortly after their fight, Kayla had started seeing a therapist. She and Lucian had quickly reconciled, and Kayla had finally started to take her independence seriously. In the process, she and my mother had managed to become friends.