Pride & Joie_The Conclusion

  Pride & Joie: The Conclusion

  A #MyNewLife Romantic Comedy

  Copyright © 2017 by M.E. Carter

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  About the Author

  “Joooooooooooie!” my brother’s voice bellows from across the house. “Where is your Mary Poppins bag?”

  Jack, my boyfriend, snickers behind me. I told him my propensity for giant purses that have the same function as a kitchen’s junk drawer is a well-known and much chided fact in my family, especially with my brother. Greg is three and a half years younger than I am and is as annoying as little brothers come. At least he used to be. He grew up into a nice adult, but he still pokes fun at me because of my bags.

  Greg comes racing through the doorway of the guest room, breathing heavily. “Please tell me you have the giant monstrosity with you and somewhere inside it is a safety pin.”

  Rolling the biggest bag I own to the middle of the floor, I begin opening compartments. “You think I would come to your wedding without my baby? Someone has to be prepared around here, and obviously it’s not you.”

  Jack snickers again, staring at himself in the floor-length mirror as he situates his tie. Jack Pride and I began dating several months ago after meeting at Flinton State University. He was the assistant coach for the football team, and I was a returning, non-traditional student when we ran into each other. And I do mean ran into each other. Like, barrel-me-over, drop-everything-on-the-ground, butt-bruised-for-days, ran into each other.

  It wasn’t love at first sight, but neither of us really believes in that junk. Instead, we’ve been building a solid relationship. I love him, which is a nice surprise since it’s something I had given up finding long ago. And he loves me, which is something he never thought he’d find again after his wife lost her battle with cancer. Now, here we are on my baby brother’s wedding day, and they’re making fun of my strong organizational skills.

  They all think they’re a bunch of funny guys.

  At the sight of my black, fold-up rolling case, chock-full of all of life’s necessities, Greg visibly relaxes. “I never thought I’d be so grateful for your magical abilities to stuff a suitcase so full of crap, but today, I really am.”

  “Hey!” I exclaim as I find my box of pins. “How dare you call this a suitcase! This is a ZÜCA pro-travel with an alloy aluminum frame, five zippered pouches, including four that pull out like drawers, and is designed to double as a chair for anyone up to three hundred pounds.” I spin around and smirk at him as I open a tiny container in his face.

  One of Greg’s eyebrows raises ever so slightly. “Working really hard to break that old English nanny image that you hate so much, aren’t you?”

  I slap him playfully on the arm and Jack belly laughs behind me. I vaguely hear him mutter “nailed it,” but ignore him in favor of more important things.

  Greg hands me his boutonniere to attach to his lapel and takes another deep breath.

  “Wow. I’ve never seen you nervous like this. Not even when you married Libby.”

  “I’m not sure I cared so much when I married Libby.”

  Briefly, my eyes flicker up to his and then back down, as I try not to push too hard through the material and poke him. Libby, his ex-wife, was nothing but trouble. Still is. From the beginning, I didn’t like her. Thought she was just looking for someone to take care of her so she didn’t have to work, which still seems true. That part I could deal with, as irritating as it was. What I couldn’t deal with, or I should rephrase . . . what I was forced to bite my tongue about was how she treated Greg. She was never kind to him unless she wanted something. She was constantly putting him down and emasculating him in front of people. Using him as a target for her nastiness. They weren’t married for long, but over the years it wore him down. I hated it.

  When he finally pulled his head out of his ass and let their marriage dissolve, I cheered. Not in front of him, of course. But I’m sure Isaac has stories of the big ole smile on my face when I got the call that the divorce was finalized. Since then, Libby still tries to use Greg’s daughter, my niece Peyton, to get her way. Ever since he started dating Elena, though, his backbone has grown back.

  I’d like to give Elena all the credit for the confidence I see in Greg again, but I don’t think it’s just her. I think when you have two people who love each other so much that their focus is always on making the other one happy, they can’t help but both be built up. It makes the romantic side of me swoon. Even if it is my brother.

  “For what it’s worth,” I say quietly, “I think this one is forever.”

  Greg flashes me a lopsided grin. “I know this one is forever. But I also know we have five kids in this wedding who are remarkably well-behaved right now. That means at any moment, all hell is going to break loose.”

  I giggle because he’s right. Between Peyton, Elena’s three girls, and her friend Callie’s son, Christopher, they’ll be lucky if everyone makes it down the aisle. “There.” I pat his lapel. “All finished.”

  He exhales another deep breath and kisses me on the cheek. “Thanks, sis. I’m gonna see if we’re ready to get started before Libby gets a stick up her ass and shows up raising holy hell.”

  “Is she still drinking all the time?” I ask with a roll of my eyes. It’s really hard to remember she gave birth to my sweet niece sometimes.

  “Now more than ever.” My jaw clenches at the thought of her being drunk around Peyton. The only reason I’m maintaining this much control is because Peyton is currently safe and sound next door with my mother, and because when she’s not here, they live with Libby’s mother, who seems to do a nice job with her granddaughter, even if she lets her daughter get away with whatever she wants.

  Greg struts toward the door, pulling his phone out of his pocket. I assume he’s texting his bride-to-be to see if it’s go time. “Don’t worry. Full custody is next on the family to-do list.”

  “What?” I screech, his only response is laughter coming from down the hallway.

  I pivot towards Jack and kno
w I look insane. Obviously, the bomb Greg just dropped temporarily paralyzed my eyes and jaw because I can’t seem to close either. “Did you hear what he just said?”

  “I did.” Jack wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the temple.

  “He’s finally going to fight her for custody.” I’m stunned by his admission and giddy with delight.

  “I know.”

  Wrapping my arms around Jack, I nestle into his chest and get comfortable. I didn’t mind being single for as long as I was. I was busy raising my son and working full time during those eighteen years. But when we stand like this, I remember my favorite part of being in a relationship. I love the physical touch. Not the sex. Although I like that, too. I just like the intimacy of holding onto Jack and breathing him in. Of feeling like we’re more solid together. Like we’re a team, and we protect each other. I had no idea I missed it until Jack showed up in my life. Now, I only hope I never lose it. I have a bad feeling it would be like losing my left limb if he was gone.

  “Can you guys not do that in here? I have to sleep on that bed tonight.” Pulling back, I shoot my son Isaac a mom-glare. He ignores me and stands in the doorway. “Uncle Greg says it’s time to get a move on. Something about nap time after a sugar crash.”

  Over the months, the tension between the two most important men in my life has dissolved a bit. Somehow, someway, Isaac and Jack have fallen into two separate roles. When they’re at the house, they interact like acquaintances—they’re polite, talk about sports, and don’t get in each other’s way. Jack doesn’t push Isaac to be friends. And Isaac doesn’t try to one-up Jack. When they’re on the field, they slip right back into coach/player mode. Jack is in charge and Isaac does what he’s told. It’s a balancing act, but they make it work because they both love me.

  “No more couch for you tonight?” Jack asks my son as we pull apart, the three of us heading through the house and out the back door.

  “Nope. Since Greg and Elena are going to a hotel tonight, I get the guest bed.” Isaac stretches his arms out like his back hurts. “I’m glad, too. I’m too big for that tiny little couch. I slept like shit last night.”

  “Watch your mouth,” I reprimand. “You know I don’t like hearing that language.”

  When I hear Jack chuckle, I don’t have to look over to know Isaac is rolling his eyes at me. Mostly because Jack cusses like a sailor, but I never reprimand him. Maybe someday I’ll lay off Isaac, too. But not anytime soon.

  My men hold the door open for me, and we step out into a beautiful scene of white folding chairs, the nice wooden kind, white lace, and white flowers strung from tree to tree. There’s a white archway covered in the same floral arrangements in the corner of Elena’s yard. Because Greg and Elena live next door to each other, they removed the privacy fence in between to open up the space. It works. Greg’s side is ready for the reception. Elena’s is ready for the ceremony. And the groom, well . . . he looks equally nervous and excited as he chats up Elena’s mom.

  We make our way to the chairs, sitting on the second row—me between the men I love most in the world. There aren’t many people here. My parents, Elena’s parents, a few people from each other’s jobs. It’s small but intimate. Only the people who love them the most are here to share in the celebration. Only the people who know how hard the road was until they found each other. It’s hard to describe how happy I am for my brother. He deserves this. He deserves Elena.

  “You ever thought about getting married again?”

  Jack’s question surprises me, but doesn’t freak me out. I can tell by the look on his face he’s not proposing, just making normal wedding conversation.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I guess I never thought I’d be in a position where I’d want to, so I haven’t put much thought into it. What about you?”

  “Same thing, I think. I always assumed I’d only get married once. Never really thought I’d meet someone I wanted to spend my life with again.”

  Isaac leans across me. “If this is your way of proposing to my mother, you’re doing a terrible job. Even Peter the water boy has more game than that.”

  Jack shoots him a look while I giggle. “I wasn’t proposing, Stevens. I was making conversation. You just sit over there and look pretty.”

  Isaac opens his mouth, no doubt with some form of witty comeback, when music begins piping through the outdoor stereo system.

  It’s time.

  As everyone takes their seats, Jack grabs my hand, recognizing before I do how emotional I feel. My baby brother, who I have loved since he was a tiny, bald baby, is getting married to a woman I feel privileged to know. Just as my eyes begin to water, Isaac hands me a tissue.

  Greg takes his place at the front with Dave from the gym, his lone best man. A few seconds go by and finally the back door to Elena’s house opens, her friend Callie marching down the aisle first.

  Callie’s wearing a lovely teal dress which complements her skin tone. She’s carrying more of those beautiful white flowers, a huge smile on her face. When she gets to the front of the aisle, she takes her place on the opposite side of my brother and eyes the door she just came out of. It’s odd. And it makes me wonder what’s going on. I’m curious enough that my eyes keep darting back and forth between her and the door, but no one comes out. Finally, my beautiful niece and Elena’s daughter Max come out holding hands. Each of them is carrying a basket of flowers, but at three and four years old, they’re not interested in dropping petals as much as they are at staying together.

  Once they make it halfway down, Elena’s two older girls follow, wearing the same beautiful white dresses their sisters have on. As I watch the older two sprinkle the aisle with flowers, it occurs to me, I now have four nieces. The thought brings a giant smile to my face.

  The girls all take their places at the front and once again we wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  Finally, we hear a high-pitched shriek, and Christopher comes running out of the house like his pants are on fire. He races down the aisle, throws the pillow with the rings right at Greg’s head, and runs past everyone to the playscape.

  Callie, who seems to have anticipated this move, is just a few steps behind yelling, “Christopher, you get over here right now! We talked about this. You get no cake if you climb up there, do you understand me?”

  But it’s too late. He shimmies his way to the top. Not to the top of the slide. Oh no. To the very top of the roof of the little fort where no one can reach him without a ladder.

  I swivel my head and catch Greg’s eye. He’s just laughing and shaking his head, completely unconcerned that his ring bearer has just gone AWOL. As I watch, he reaches in his pocket and pulls out the rings that should have been on the pillow.

  Elena wasn’t kidding when she said Greg is a child whisperer. Apparently he’s good with anticipating their every move, too. I should have known better.

  “Please tell me you don’t want any more children,” Jack whispers into my ear. “I’m too old to handle this kind of shit.”

  I laugh quietly into my hand and shake my head. “No way. This shop is closed, buddy.”

  “Thank Christ,” he mumbles, making me laugh even harder.

  Before he can say another word, the music changes again, and we all rise as my soon-to-be sister-in-law steps out of the house.

  Elena is gorgeous in a short, A-line sundress. It’s white, of course, with an intricate lace overlay. She’s wearing teal shoes, the same color as Callie’s dress, and she’s carrying an identical flower bouquet. Her long, dirty blond hair is half up-half down, boasting big, soft curls. But what makes her the most stunning is her smile.

  Well, that and her legs. If that’s what spin class does for everyone’s calves, I may need to reconsider my stance on regular exercise.

  She can’t take her eyes off my brother as she walks toward him, which of course makes my eyes water. Jack squeezes my hand tightly when I sniffle, understanding why I’m so emotional.
He has a younger sister who has been through rough times. He gets how happy I am that my brother has finally found his happiness. Greg can finally blossom into a good man with a good woman by his side.

  As the ceremony goes on and Greg and Elena vow themselves to each other for as long as they both shall live, one stray tear makes its way down my cheek.

  Greg and Elena make me believe in true love again. And when it’s right, it’s a very beautiful thing.

  As Joie stumbles into our room, I grab her by the arm to steady her.

  “You okay, there, babe?” I ask as I right her. “I didn’t realize you drank so much.”

  Holding on to me for balance, she says, “I didn’t. My feet are killing me.” Sure enough, she doesn’t wait until the door closes before taking off her shoes and tossing them aside. “I’ve gotten soft from wearing flip flops to class every day.”

  “Wearing five-inch spikes on your heels don’t help your comfort any, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t make fun of my heels. They’re the only way I can feel anything other than short next to you.” She smiles at me while she reaches for the zipper on the back of her dress. “Besides, it was kind of nice not having to reach all the way up on my tiptoes when I wanted to kiss you.”

  Spinning her around, I attack her zipper to help her out of her clothes. “You don’t need to go through that much effort anyway. If you ever want a kiss, all you have to do is ask. I’ll lean over for you.”

  Her dress practically floats to the floor, landing at her feet in a puff of dark blue chiffon, leaving her in just her bra and panties. They’re black. And lacy. And giving her a chaste kiss is no longer a priority.

  “My eyes are up here, Pride.”

  My eyes snap up to hers as she smirks. Busted.

  “Weddings make me horny.”

  “They do not,” she argues, and she’s right. They really don’t, but every time she throws her head back and laughs, my mission is accomplished anyway. I love making her happy, and it doesn’t take much. A bouquet of purple flowers. A funny meme. A cheesy joke. It all makes her laugh, and her laughter makes me feel like I’m doing my job as her significant other.