Page 59 of Damaged Billionaire Daddy
Nausea. Stomach. “Bathroom,” I croaked, “Where?” Oh, dear gods, don’t let me puke on this carpet. He’ll never get his cleaning deposit back if I do.
Richard’s eyes grew wide with alarm. “Here! Right through here.” He opened a door I hadn’t even noticed, and I hurried through it.
I made it far enough that the contents of my stomach splashed on the tiles, not on that expensive carpet.
Richard caught up with me, threw down a towel to cover the mess, and guided me to the toilet to finish.
When I was done, he set me on a stool, wet a cloth and wiped my face. “Are you sick? Have you been drinking? Did I feed you something at the cabin . . .?”
Now, he was the question machine, and I was the one with the answers. The question was, did I want to tell him now? Or should I wait?
“Kandis!” Richard cried, giving me a little shake, “Answer me! You’re scaring me. Did I do something to you?”
“No,” I said. “Well, actually yes. But I was willing. You didn’t do it to hurt me, or at least I don’t think you did.”
“I would never want to hurt you,” he said. “But what is wrong?”
The words just popped out of my mouth. “I’m pregnant.”
And there it was, the “P” word hanging in the air between us.
“Oh, thank God,” he said. “I thought you had caught something serious.”
Chapter twenty-five
Richard
I stood at an outdoor altar under a big white tent in the Quinn Vineyard’s peach orchard. I’d done this before, so I was feeling pretty nervous. I didn’t think Kandy would leave me at the altar, but history did have a way of repeating itself.
On the bride’s side of the gathering sat her mother, Mila, Teagan, Roger and all the workers from Quinn orchards. Her uncle and aunt had declined the invitation but sent cards and good wishes.
On the groom’s side sat Caleb, Delard, and a bunch of my old football buddies. I didn’t know where Caleb dug them up from. It made me feel a little less lonely and scared, but if I got stood up a second time, I was sure going to be embarrassed.
This was even worse than the wedding with Kayla because my brother, Andrew, had flown in from Africa. He’d caught a flight with my sister Rylie, in Boston, and they were both here, grinning at me expectantly. If Kandy stood me up, I’d never live it down.
Then I saw her. She wasn’t wearing a traditional gown. Instead, she wore the sun-dress I bought for her at Walmart,and a wide sun hat with flowers out of her grandmother’s garden.
She had her hand on Charles Quinn’s arm, and he had the biggest grin on his face, as if he’d pulled off a prank and couldn’t wait for everyone to get the joke.
She was radiant; she was beautiful. I couldn’t believe she was really going to marry me. She was going to be mine, and I was going to be hers.
It was a good thing the pastor was there to tell us what to say, because I had no idea what I was saying. All I knew was that her hands were in mine. Then, I was slipping a ring on her finger, and she was slipping one on mine.
She tipped her face up to mine, and I bent down to kiss her. As I did, that ridiculous hat fell off, and I realized she was letting her hair go back to her natural color.
Then I didn’t care what color her hair was, just that it smelled like her favorite shampoo, and her lips and mouth tasted even better than her grandfather’s best wine. I didn’t care that we had an audience.
All that mattered in all the world was that her body, clad in the sundress I bought for her, was in my arms. Her arms were around my neck, and she was kissing me back like this was the last time we would ever kiss, and she needed to put everything into it.
When we came up for air, the pastor said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Richard Lane.”
The crowd cheered and stomped their feet; there were even some wolf whistles.
“Throw the bouquet!” someone shouted.
“Yeah, throw the bouquet! Let’s see who the next bride will be!”
“Should I?” Kandis asked me.
