My Always One Read online

  Warmth fills my cheeks. “I hope he doesn’t overshare.”

  “Only about how much he loves you.”

  “Marshal,” Jason calls from near the temporary bar. “Come over here a minute. We have a debate about...”

  Marshal squeezes my hand. “Will you be all right?”

  “I promise to take care of her,” Melinda says as I nod.

  “He’s a bit overprotective,” I say by way of an excuse.

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  “I’m capable of slaying my own dragons, but it’s nice to have Marshal in my corner.”

  “You are.” Melinda nods. “You slew a big one and I commend you for the choice you made.”

  The small hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t want to talk out of school...”

  “Is this about me or Marshal?” I ask.

  Melinda leads me away from the crowd to a more secluded corner near a decorated tree that must be fifteen feet high. “I hope you don’t mind me mentioning your ex.”

  “You know my ex?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  This makes me laugh. “I guess you do. In all honesty, he’s not my favorite subject.” I nod toward the windows. “Snowstorms are more interesting.”

  Melinda grins. “You see, Jackson has done some work for my husband—in the past.” She lowers her tone. “I’m assuming that you’ve heard what happened?”

  I shake my head. “Honestly, I haven’t made it a priority to keep up on him.”

  One of her hands goes to her chest as her fingers flutter near her necklace. “Well, I’m not one for gossip, but considering that you told him to hit the road and Wilson et al went to extraordinary measures to keep everything under wraps, I wondered if you knew.”

  I shift on my tall heels. “Oh, Melinda, I’m intrigued.”

  “Jackson Carmichael is no longer with the legal firm of Wilson et al.”

  “He’s not?”

  “The official word is that he resigned and moved back to the Detroit area to open his own practice near his family.”

  My expression undoubtedly gave away my thoughts. The last thing Jackson wanted was a small private practice chasing ambulances. He had visions of greatness, wealth and fame that came with being a part of a big practice. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

  Her lips form a straight line as she shakes her head. “My husband, Dwayne, was told in confidence that Jackson was let go.”

  “But he was a partner.”

  “Revoked.”

  My brow furrows. “Are you sure?” I ask.

  She nods. “There was an internal incident regarding an intern.”

  I suck in a breath and work to keep my facial expression from screaming too much information. “Incident.”

  “Dwayne didn’t get all of the gory details, but he seems to believe it involved possible legal repercussions. Wilson et al worked as an intermediary to satisfy both parties, not that Jackson is probably satisfied. From what I heard, the intern agreed to a settlement that along with financial compensation included Jackson Carmichael’s termination from Wilson et al.” Melinda shakes her head. “To accomplish that, the intern must have had some damning evidence of something significant enough that Wilson et al didn’t want the association.”

  “Well. I should say that I’m surprised.” I was surprised that Ellen would use the photos of herself. She would have had to have shown them as evidence. I suppose when she came to me and asked for them, I could have said the same thing Marshal and I did about a ride to Grand Rapids. Then again, I decided that despite Ellen’s transgressions, she also was a victim of his photo fetish. Marshal and I involved her—whether intentionally or not—the day we all spoke at the bed and breakfast.

  I didn’t hand Ellen the photos or even the flash drive. I simply provided her with the name of the file. As Jackson’s intern, she said she had access to his email. If he was stupid enough to still have the photos there, that’s on him. When Jack changed his password, I only knew that the pictures of me were gone.

  I’d deleted those.

  The decision to take that evidence further was in Ellen’s court.

  From what Melinda is saying, it sounds as though she took that opportunity.

  “What happened to the intern?” I ask.

  Melinda shrugs. “I don’t know, but if she was the injured party, I hope she received more than a settlement. I hope she received a glowing recommendation to another firm.”

  A smile came to my lips as a warm hand splayed long fingers over my lower back and a solid body came to my side.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Marshal’s deep voice asks with an edge of curiosity.

  As I take a breath, Melinda looks at me and I nod. She then gives Marshal the short version of what she’d only seconds earlier shared with me.

  My fiancé’s mouth is agape as he looks from Melinda to me and back. “How long have you known this?”

  “For a couple of weeks.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” Marshal asks.

  Melinda looks my way and winks. “I was waiting to meet the mighty woman who was first in line at kicking Carmichael’s ass to the curb.”

  Marshal pulls me against his side. “She is a mighty woman, and whether it’s a kick or a right hook, she’s a wonder. I’m thrilled to have her beside me.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, if the two of you aren’t having a family-only small wedding, Dwayne and I would be honored to watch as two people who have always been right for one another make it official.”

  “We don’t have any plans yet,” I say, “but I’m sure that once we do, Marshal will let you know.”

  Sami

  Six months later

  * * *

  “You’re radiant,” my mom says, her arm around my growing waist as we stand together in the long mirror. My dress is less elaborate than the one we found over a year ago. However, just like that day, her eyes are on me and mine are on her.

  Mom reaches for my hand. “Samantha, you are radiant. Your dad and I are so happy about Marshal. I’ve never seen you happier, ever.”

  I lay my hand over my growing baby. “I know this was a shock. Believe it or not, I was on birth control.”

  Mom shakes her head. “A good shock, sweetheart. We’re going to have another grandchild. How could we be upset?”

  The door to the bridal room bursts open as Millie and Jane enter with Jane’s two children in tow.

  “Aunt Sami,” her little boy Patrick says, “you look real pretty.”

  His sister Leigh grins. “Mommy said after you get married, you can have a baby.”

  I crouch down and straighten Patrick’s bowtie and look at Leigh’s dress. “That’s right. But first, I need your help with the wedding. Are you both ready to walk down the aisle?”

  They both nod.

  “Just because you look amazing in an off-the-rack dress from Target doesn’t mean I’m going to follow suit,” Millie says as I stand and she hugs me, peering over my shoulder into the mirror.

  Marshal and I had agreed we wanted a small and private wedding, nothing like the huge extravaganza I’d had planned with tiny-dick. We only wanted the people we love and those who love us. It turns out that includes half of Johnson and a significant portion of Grand Rapids.

  To compromise, we found a beautiful wedding venue created from a refurbished barn.

  The ceremony is to be outside, under the blue sky and the reception will be bigger than we planned. This time, Marshal and I insisted on paying for everything, well, almost.

  Jane smiles at Mom as she comes to my side. “Something old.” She drapes a string of pearls around my neck.

  As my fingers flutter over the necklace, my mom tells the story that I already know. “These were given to your great-grandmother on her wedding day by your great-grandfather. My mother wore them in her wedding, your two aunts wore them, and so did I.”

  “And so did I,” Jan
e says. “Now they’re yours to hold onto until the next one of us girls is married.”

  We all turned to Millie.

  “That would be me,” she says, wiggling her engagement ring. Yes, my little sister was almost married before me.

  Almost.

  Her wedding is in two months, which is another reason Marshal and I didn’t want my parents to pay. When it comes to Millie’s wedding, I hope my bridesmaid dress will fit.

  Just as I told Mom long ago, that’s what alterations are for.

  Even though I adore my friends, by keeping this wedding small, I only asked my sisters to stand up with me. Marshal’s brother, Marcus, is his best man and my brother, Bryon, will also stand on his side.

  Nothing has ever felt so right as the idea of the Michaelses and Andersons officially coming together as one big family.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “If that’s Marshal, tell him he can’t see his bride until the ceremony,” Jane says.

  Mom nods as she opens the door a sliver and peers out. “Monica.”

  Marshal’s mother.

  “Would you mind if I come say something to Sami?”

  I nod as Mom looks my way.

  “Come on in,” Mom says.

  I grin as Marshal’s mom smiles my way.

  “You’re beautiful, Sami.”

  “Thank you.”

  She clutches my hands. “You have always been like a daughter to me. You know that, I hope.”

  I nod, swallowing the emotions that are multiplying within me faster than the hormones.

  “You may already have something, but” —she opens her clutch and pulls out a sapphire-and-diamond bracelet— “George gave this to me on our wedding day. It was for my something new and something blue. I always imagined giving it to my daughter on her wedding day.” She places it in my hand and closes my fingers around it. “Today, I am. It’s yours, Sami. Maybe you’re carrying a girl and one day it can be hers. Or maybe you’ll be like me and leave it to the good Lord to knock some sense into your son and give you the perfect daughter.”

  I open my fingers. “Oh, Monica, I’ll wear it and cherish it, but I can’t keep it.”

  “You can, Sami. I trust you with it, just like I trust you with my son. You know that Marshal has always been my unpredictable child.” She looks at Mom. “We all have at least one of those.”

  Mom laughs. “He’s marrying mine.”

  Monica squeezes my hand. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

  The seconds and minutes tick by as a photographer takes pictures and my dad appears, looking dashing in his dress pants, bow tie, and suspenders. It is Marshal’s one demand—regarding the wedding, no suit coats. He wants things as casual as possible. I look down and smile at my dad’s shoes. I believe that despite the fact he’s lived in Michigan his entire life, he is wearing his first pair of cowboy boots.

  Dad lifts his foot and tugs up the leg of his slacks. “Marshal explained how they’re good for kicking zombies during the apocalypse.”

  “I think your supplies are now complete.”

  “I didn’t know about the boot part. If I had, I’d have had a pair a long time ago.”

  I kiss his cheek.

  He walks me to the doorway. The children have gone ahead with their pillow and flower petals. Millie has gone and Jane just stepped away. I place my hand in the crook of Dad’s arm.

  “I love you, Sami girl. Tell me that Marshal makes you happy.”

  “He does.”

  “Tell me he’s good to you.”

  “He is.”

  “Tell me you love him.”

  “Always, Dad. Always.”

  My dad kisses my cheek. “Then it’s time to get you hitched.”

  We walk together down the grass-covered aisle. As soon as we turn the corner, I see him, I see Marshal and as our eyes meet, I feel as if my heart will burst. He’s the entire package. He’s sexy and dirty when we’re alone. He’s caring and trusting. He’s honest and loving. He’s my protector and my cheerleader. He knows what I need before the thought crosses my mind.

  He’s my best friend.

  My lover.

  My confidant.

  My companion.

  He’s my forever.

  My always one.

  Epilogue

  Sami

  A year later

  * * *

  “I can’t believe we actually took Mitchell to my parents’ house for the weekend so we can have sex,” I say, lying back in the crook of Marshal’s arm on the outdoor sofa on our back porch. Before us is a hazy sky covering the countryside.

  Before Mitch was born, Marshal and I both decided to move back to Johnson. Living here makes our commutes to work longer, but it is worth the drive to have our dream home, land for our son to roam, and both sets of our parents nearby.

  In a nutshell, Johnson isn’t slumming it. Johnson is home and where we met.

  Marshal and I want Mitch and any future children to have a childhood like we had.

  Who knows, maybe when our son is five, he’ll meet his always one.

  “Oh,” Marshal says, “he’s not at Jean and Paul’s just so we can have sex anywhere and everywhere without traumatizing Mitch for life.” His blue eyes twinkle. “This is our anniversary and I have plans for you, Mrs. Michaels. Be prepared for a weekend of pampering.”

  I love everything about my husband, but if I had to choose one—one thing over his monster cock—I think it would be the way he sees me, really sees me. It’s as if he sees into my soul.

  I push out my bottom lip. “So no sex?”

  He teases rogue strands of my hair away from my face with his long finger. “Oh, honey, there will be an excessive amount of sex.”

  “Okay, and now tell me more about this pampering.”

  “I was thinking we’ll get all dressed up and head into Grand Rapids, dinner at The Rooftop and dancing at that club on the river.”

  I keep my expression from changing, but the truth is that after a week of work and motherhood, the last thing I want to do is get dressed up and go out.

  “What do you think?” he asks with a cocky grin.

  I don’t want to disappoint him.

  “It sounds nice,” I say as I start to stand. “I’ll go change.” I look at his casual attire—what he changed into after work—and add. “You should shave.”

  “Oh.” He catches my attention. “I laid something out on the bed for you to wear.”

  I spin around, my expression no longer hidden. “You did what?”

  “I think you’ll be stunning.”

  My lips come together as I open the glass door that leads into the kitchen. My mind is so consumed with the idea that Marshal would even consider this to be a good idea that I don’t notice the shining clean countertops or the dust-free floor as I practically stomp down the hallway to our bedroom. As I push open the doors, I stop, staring at the bed.

  The covers are pulled back and on my pillow is an envelope.

  There isn’t a dress laid out.

  There’s nothing but a note.

  I take a quick peek over my shoulder, but the hallway is empty.

  Slowly, I step closer to the bed and lift the square envelope.

  On the front, in Marshall’s messy handwriting, it reads: Happy Anniversary.

  Tears threaten the back of my eyes as I pull open the flap and ease out the piece of stationery. I unfold the piece of thick paper.

  * * *

  Sami,

  You are my everything. I can’t believe we’ve been married for a year or that together we made the most perfect little human or that we’ve managed to keep him alive and thriving. If I could wish one thing for Mitch, it would be that one day he marries his best friend.

  Thank you for jumping off the cliff with me, trusting me, and loving me.

  You were probably mad when I said what I said, about having something laid out for you and going out dining and dancing. (I’ve had this planned. I hope I was able to say i
t with a straight face.)

  Your pampering started earlier today. The house is clean and laundry is done. If I have my way, you’ll be able to rest and relax, spend your weekend on your back or knees or...we’ll figure it out.

  * * *

  A smile comes to my lips as I imagine exactly what he means. I continue reading.

  * * *

  This weekend, as we celebrate our anniversary, I hope you’ll spend the entire weekend wearing what is on the bed because you’re definitely stunning when you wear nothing at all.

  I love you more every day,

  Your Always One

  * * *

  I look up to see my husband leaning against the door jamb, his blue eyes twinkling, and an oh-so-sexy grin on his lips. As I scan from his light brown hair to his handsome face, his chiseled jaw with just the right amount of beard growth to tantalize my sensitive skin, his wide chest, muscular arms, and long legs, I decide that Marshal does know me. He knows me better than anyone.

  “What do you say, Mrs. Michaels?” he asks.

  I drop the note and walk toward him. Laying my hand on his chest, I look up into his baby-blue eyes. “I say I love you. Did you really clean the house?”

  “No, our moms did. But don’t be mad. I asked them and they were happy to do something for the anniversary and give us a weekend to ourselves. Jean even invited my parents to dinner so Mitch will get plenty of attention.”

  “I’m not mad. Whatever will I do all weekend?”

  “I believe it was laid out in that note.”

  “Oh,” I say with a grin, “that’s right.”

  “Do we have an agreement?”

  “Under one condition.”

  “What would that be, Mrs. Michaels?”

  I rub my palm over his bristly cheek. “Don’t shave.”

  His smile grows. “Still so bossy.” He kisses me. “I was thinking that instead of The Rooftop, we could go to The Suds for a fat cheeseburger and fries.”

  “I like that. But if I eat all that, I could fall asleep and according to that note, I have a weekend filled with various positions on my schedule.”