We’re at Howerton House. It’s one of the premier event venues in Manhattan.
Trina and I wanted a ceremony in the penthouse with a catered dinner for our friends and family, but Lloyd wanted more.
It was his idea to rent out the garden terrace for the day.
Peggy was on hand to marry us again.
Lloyd stood up next to me. Trina chose her sister Falon to be her matron-of-honor.
I’d met her and her husband Asher at a small gathering for Ro’s birthday.
Asher sang two songs.
Ro was in heaven as she danced with her fiancé.
It was a good night and the start of our journey to telling everyone in Trina’s life that she’s a married woman.
Her dad was ecstatic. Her siblings were excited for her. Her brother, George, had a few questions for me, but he’s come around.
I glance over to see him sitting at a table with his wife, alongside Sean and Harrison, who both came without plus ones. George lifts a beer bottle in greeting in the air. I toss him a wave.
“It’s too bad that Kavan couldn’t make it,” Trina says quietly.
We spent time with Kavan last night in the private dining room at Sérénité. He toasted to our future and never once mentioned the past.
His story belongs to him, so I haven’t shared that with my wife.
On the way home, I explained that he’d been through hell and fought his way back. She assured me that his secrets are his to tell and if he ever wants to, she’ll be there to listen.
“Aurora looks beautiful tonight.” Trina points to where Ro and Eldon are sitting. “She’s got that pregnancy glow.”
I drop my gaze to the lace gown Trina is wearing. “She’s no match for you. You took my breath away when you came down the aisle with your parents.”
“You stole mine the first time you ordered me to marry you.”
I laugh. “I persuaded you, Trina.”
That day feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed.
We’ve fallen in love and married for a second time now.
Lloyd has been talking about transferring ownership of Abdons to me, but I’m in no rush. I work the job he hired me to work, and he comes into the office a few times a month to weigh in.
He’s been spending much of his time moving into an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s a fresh start for him in the neighborhood he grew up in.
“It’s almost time for dinner.” Trina kisses my jaw. “Then speeches, dancing, and we get to cut our wedding cake.”
“Then I can take my wife home and carry her over the threshold?”
She glides her lips to my neck to pepper a line of soft kisses there. “I can’t wait for that.”
“I’m going to accept the junior position in marketing that Hank offered me,” Trina says as she walks back into our bedroom carrying a small plate and a fork. “You’ll need to start looking for a new assistant.”
I take in how utterly beautiful she is. She looks satisfied because she is.
As soon as we exited the elevator in our penthouse, our clothes were off. Her wedding dress is on the floor in the foyer next to my tuxedo. I lost my boxer briefs outside the door of our bedroom. Her lingerie is at the foot of our bed.
We spent more than two hours making love. It was two of the best hours of my life, and I can’t wait to take her again.
I don’t hold back my smile even though I’m going to miss having her within my view all day. “I’m proud of you.”
She takes a small bite of the chocolate cake that’s on the plate. It’s a piece of our wedding cake. Her mom packed it up for us at the reception before she sent us home.
“Whoever your new assistant is, be kind to them, Graham.” She carefully crawls onto the bed to straddle me while balancing the cake in her hand.
“I’m kind.”
Shaking her head, she smiles. “Promise me you’ll never have another angry a.m. or pissy p.m. again.”
“What the fuck is that?” I bark out a laugh. “Are those real things?”
“In your world they are,” she says as she feeds me a bite of the cake. “I have to admit you haven’t had either one in a long time.”
“That’s because my wife keeps me well-fucked and happy.”
“Speaking of well-fucked.” She glances down at her nude body. “This was a much better wedding night than our first one.”
“The night is not over yet, Mrs. Locke.” I take another offered bite of cake from her.
Joy swims in her expression. “Have I told you how much I love being Trina Locke?”
She’s told me countless times, but I’ll never tire of it. “Have I told you how much I love being married to you?”
She scoops up another small piece of the cake to slide it between her lips. “Tell me again.”
I skim my hands over her bare thighs. My cock is hard again, so I push her back slightly so she can feel what she’s doing to me.
Her eyes widen. “Your cock likes being married to me.”
I huff out a laugh. “My heart loves it even more. I can’t wait for tomorrow, Trina, and the day after that.”
“All the days to come,” she adds. “All the adventures we’ll have.”
I take a leap of faith because although I can’t read my wife’s mind, I know her. I know what she’s been dreaming about recently. I know what she wants.
“In the brownstone in Brooklyn,” I whisper.
The plate in her hand shakes. “Graham?”
“I saw the listing for it on the laptop in the study,” I confess.
“I thought I cleared the history.” She laughs. “I was just browsing.”
I motion for her to feed me another bite of cake. “You were thinking about our future.”
She carefully slides the fork between my lips. “It’s all I think about.”
“Our children,” I say with a tremor in my voice.
“All of our children.” She leans forward to press a kiss on my cheek. “I know we’ve talked about kids, and we agreed to wait for a year or two to have a baby, but there’s something else, Graham. I think we should consider…”
“Adoption,” I finish her sentence. “We’ll have a baby when we’re ready, and we’ll adopt too.”
Tears fill her eyes almost instantly. “Yes. I want that so much.”
It’s what I want too.
“There are so many older children,” she says on a stuttered breath. “We have a lot of love to give.”
I reach up to cup her face in my hands. “That brownstone in Brooklyn is made for our future family, Trina. It’s two blocks from Dobb’s. Lloyd lives within walking distance of it. There’s a library there so we can move all the books from here to there. Your mom and Lloyd will love that.”
I gave her mom a keycard to our penthouse two months ago. She calls it her private library card. She stops by whenever she’s in need of a new read and some time with her daughter.
“They would love that so much,” she agrees softly.
“I called the listing agent for the brownstone.” I run my hands up to her waist. “We have an appointment to see it tomorrow morning before we head out to Westhampton Beach for our honeymoon.”