In the meantime, will we date? Will we keep hooking up, chasing these brief moments where we can’t get enough of each other until one of us finds someone better? I’m not sure.
If anyone’s going to leave first, it’ll be me, won’t it? I’ll be the one who has to force the divorce. Because Hayes doesn’t see himself ever getting married. But I can also see him having a hard time seeing me with someone else.
He never even responded to my comment about divorcing once this wedding is done.What is he thinking?
I exhale softly, exhaustion pulling me under, eyes drifting shut as the storm outside fades to a quiet drizzle.
These are questions for another day.
Because tomorrow, I’m getting married in front of half the town of Whitewood Creek and I need rest so that I can look beautiful on my wedding day to the man with his arms wrapped around me tightly tonight.
Chapter 27: Hayes
“Hi! Welcome! Thank you all so much for coming!” Regan’s soft, sweet voice rings out, warm and inviting, carrying effortlessly across the wide-open space of our property line.?
She’s been up since dawn, way too damn early for a woman whose wedding is in just a few hours, but that’s Regan. She wanted the ceremony in the evening so the lighting would be, quote, perfecton the Marshall land where she’s lived her whole life. And so, since sunrise, she’s been in constant motion, moving through the Mayberry Manor with a kind of restless energy that’s as endearing as it is exhausting to watch, preparing for the brides and grooms who’ll show up today, eager to see where their bridal party will get ready, and photos be taken.
She’s checked the pond twice, straightened up the rustic cottages, and meticulously set up small stations all over the land, each one strategically placed to mark prime, potential photography spots as well as offer details for the guests who arecanvasing our property so that they can learn about the history behind the Mayberry’s.
And she’s not just hosting prospective brides and grooms today, local vendors are here too, including photographers who might end up shooting weddings. Apparently, that’s smart business. If they like the property, they’ll pitch it to future couples that they know are engaged and looking for a place to marry, helping solidify the Marshall reputation.
Regan’s thought of everything.Every damn detail.And I can’t lie, I’m wildly impressed. Way more than impressed. She’s smart, funny, sharp-witted, a true entrepreneur and so damn...agreeable.
I don’t deserve to be the man who’s marrying her tonight, or the one who fell asleep next to her last night after burying my cock inside of her three times, but here I am anyway. Trying not to ask too many questions about how I got here and where we’re going when this is all finished. Because after I told her a little more about my childhood and Samuel, I felt a strong sense of relief. And when I woke up this morning briefly, with her still wrapped up in my arms, it felt right.
“So, please feel free to explore the property,” she continues, beaming at the small crowd. “A few of my siblings are hanging around, so if you see someone wearing a big ’M’ sticker across their chest, they’re either a Marshall or someone we trust to guide you. They’ll be happy to answer any questions about your future big day.”
With a clap of her hands, she dismisses the group, sending them off across the land to explore.
I exhale slowly, watching as people scatter out like ants. Would I rather have this day to myself? Have my landto myself? HaveRegan to myself so I can tell her what I meant when I told her she wasit for melast night?
Absolutely.
But even once this place is fully operational, Regan’s already agreed that we’ll be aweekends-onlywedding family, and she’ll block off months where we get to take a break from visitors. Plus, she’ll have a wedding planner hired and a whole staff that will manage things without any of our intervention eventually. The main house will stay off-limits. The barn? She’ll coordinate use with me for photos. I won’t say no to the extra revenue, and to be fair, the other houses on the property have been sitting empty, waiting for something like this. But more than that, watching her work, watching her be in her element, it’s something else entirely and I’m enjoying admiring her.
She’s wearing a pair of slightly oversized denim overalls, the kind that hug her hips just right but still look like she stole them from one of her brothers they’re so long. Her dark auburn hair is thrown into a messy bun, wisps of it falling loose around her face like she didn’t even bother fixing it after rolling out of my warm bed this morning. She’s got a clipboard tucked under one arm, her lips pursed in concentration as she surveys the setup, nodding to herself like she’s mentally checking off a list only she can see. She looks happy and beautiful.
She looks likemine.
Arms folded over my chest, I watch her from a distance, cataloging every tiny detail. The way her eyes light up as she talks, the way her hands move when she explains something, the way her whole body seems to buzz with purpose. And that’s when it really hits me thatfuck.I’ve fallen for her. So hard. In a way that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else who knows me.
“Hi,” a soft, feminine voice comes from beside me. “I’m Rachel, one of the photographers scoping out the property for her bride. It’s beautiful.”
I barely glance her way, my gaze still fixed on watching Regan. “Yeah. It is.”
Rachel shifts beside me, waiting for more and my attention. When I don’t give it, she clears her throat. “Okay, so, um, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the home? You’ve got the ’M’ on your chest, so I figured you were one of the Marshall brothers.” She laughs nervously.
I straighten slightly, finally turning to face her. At one point in my life, I might’ve been into a woman like her, polished, poised, perfectly put together in a title little suit dress that shows off her ample breasts. But now? All I see is business and no depth.
I’m sure that isn’t fair, I’m sure there’s something more to her than a pretty face with eyes that are looking at me like she’d like to undress me, but now that I’ve had Regan. She’s all I want. Regan and the many different flavors of who she is wrapped around me like a hug.
Her eyes flick to my hand—blatantly checking for a ring—before darting back up to mine with a small, practiced smile after she finds it empty.
“I’m not a Marshall,” I explain.
“Oh, okay. Well, I own my own photography business. I have a few couples looking for a wedding venue, and this property is exquisite.”
I nod. “It is. That’s why I bought it, but that wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”
