Page 47 of Before We Say I Do

Chapter Thirteen

Midnight

The next day

Christmas

The way he kissed her was as if they were still in the throes of passion. The auditorium erupted in cheers as Kyle and London sealed their vows with a mouthwatering kiss that felt unending.

Heat speared from their lips as they inhaled, melting into one another as they joined in holy matrimony.

God, this was bliss, London thought.

With the events over the last twenty-four hours, she would be kidding if she said she saw this coming. Well, kind of. While the wedding was planned and they moved toward that end game, the stumble in between was enough to almost take away everything she thought they would have.

But boy, was she wrong. She'd never known love like this existed. Even with her parents being married for what felt like centuries, she never imagined it could be as wholesome and completely encompassing as the way Kyle loved her, and she him.

But here they were, holding hands, dressed in the best, looking like royalty in their attire as they became man and wife.

Her heart pattered with excitement, and though they'd shared another hot night of passion, she couldn't wait to be in his arms again.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Bishop yelled, "Mr. and Mrs. Valentine!"

Kyle and London turned to the audience, stood out; then he lifted her arm in the air. She twirled as if to show off for him. Sashaying her hips, letting her curves do the talking as she spun slowly in the body-hugging sparkling off-the-shoulder gown.

Kyle whistled, then kissed his fingers one at a time. A chef's kiss that caused spirited laughter to bellow from the guests. As London turned to face him, she held an upturned hand out as if to say: look at what I've got!

Kyle flipped his collar, slipped his hands inside his pockets, then also turned slowly to show off for her. More laughter sprang even louder, and he stepped to her and pulled her body into his arms, forehead to forehead, peppering her face in kisses with his warm mouth.

Everyone who was anyone was in attendance. Their families, friends, coworkers, acquaintances. A few of Chicago's movers and shakers, including some of the Rose dynasty.

Silver, black, and white were the primary colors of décor in the ceremony. In each corner of the room, Christmas trees, with white glowing lights, mistletoe bundles throughout, and beautiful white lilies spread down the aisle like a leading garden of roses.

Next to them, their closest family, the Valentine men, including the patriarch Leslie, in the groom's position. On London's side, her mother, Carla, and the women of the Rose dynasty, who had become her close family over the years.

It was the perfect opportunity for more camaraderie between the two dynasties, and the holiday only brought that cheer together tenfold.

Twirling London out, then back into his embrace, Kyle kissed her lips again.

"Shall we?"

"Lead the way, husband."

He wiggled his brows, and together hand in hand, they strolled down the aisle. Behind them, the groomsmen and bridesmaids met up, and as they walked toward the reception area, the Valentines handed the women off to their husbands of the Rose dynasty.

Then, everyone took a seat at a family table next to their wives that was so large it stretched around the entire reception room.

Raphael, as the best man, stood to his feet to deliver his speech of congratulations. Everyone was tuned in, even the cameras from WTZB, his sister-in-law's news station, the only media allowed into the reception area.

"If someone would've told me we would be celebrating at your wedding on this Christmas night, I probably would have bet money otherwise, and lost."

The audience laughed.

"I'm happy to be wrong, brother." Raphael looked over at Kyle. "You are just as brilliant in business as you are with matters of the heart. And I can understand that…" he glanced down at his pregnant wife, Bri St. James Valentine, "…when the person you're designed to live your life with infiltrates your path, you make sure to hold on to them forever."

Bri smiled timidly, and he winked, and she blew him a kiss. Looking back toward Kyle, Raphael lifted his glass in the air.

"To your matrimony. May you live in peace, have understanding, and love one another for all time, Amen."

"Amen!" DeAndre Valentine shouted.

Amens went around the room, and glasses clinked as they toasted to Raphael's words.

DeAndre stood to his feet. "Now it's time for the bride and groom's first dance as husband and wife. We all know our brother can’t dance so let's all pull out our camera phones to record this, shall we?"

Laughter shot into the air as Kyle pointed to DeAndre.

"I've got a surprise for you because you think your dance was better than what mine will be."

"Oh, I'm sure of it, brother, because I've got moves," DeAndre said.

Unable to resist a challenge, Kyle rose to his feet and held his hand to London, and together they glided to the dance floor where they grooved together, slowly and sensually.

DeAndre sat next to his wife, Avery Michelle, who had recently finished taking a round of medicine for her lupus treatment.

"Do you feel like dancing, my love?”

She smiled at him. "Absolutely."

He pulled her in for a kiss, and together, they waited until the main dance was finished before joining Kyle and London on the dance floor.

"To be honest," Leslie Valentine said, easing between the two couples on the dance floor with the family matriarch and his wife, Bridgette, "Y'all got your moves from me." He twirled Bridgette out, letting her hand go to match her rotation on his ballroom shoes before recouping her in his arms with a quick sway.

Dizzy, Bridgette grew an easy smile and bit her bottom lip as Leslie winked.

"Oh yeah," he said.

The couples laughed, knowing they couldn't refute their father's claims.

"Papa, Papa, Papa!" Leslie turned an eye to Hunter Junior as his son and daughter-in-law, Hunter and Camilla, approached.

"Try to be smooth with a heavy toddler in your arms," Hunter said to his pops, holding on to the child with one arm and Camilla in the other. They swayed together as laughter continued to sail around them, with Hunter Junior continuing to chant during their dance.

But as usual, Allison—newsroom editor, and wife of Lance Valentine—was making sure the cameraman got the party's right angles, playing her role as a part-time reporter when she didn't need to.

"Beauty…"

She glanced to her husband, who was fine in dark brown skin, his signature French braid down his head, sharp eyes, and debonair wedding attire.

"I was just coming to find you," she said.

"Hmmm. That is yet to be determined."

She giggled heavily. "Okay, you got me. I wanted to make sure the video is perfect for Kyle and London."

"I know, and it will be, but now I want you at my side." He reached a hand out. "Dance with me."

She could never tell him no, and to prove it, she accepted his hand and was spun into his embrace and led to the dance floor with the other couples.

Taking it all in, Carla Jones sat at the family table with flutters in her heart. There, across the room, Jacob Alexander Rose held a passionate gaze on her, wetting her panties with just a mere perusal.

She had no idea he would be there and wasn't prepared for his strong aura to fill up her space. Literally, with all of the testosterone in the room, Jacob was the only one who hit a nine on her Richter scale.

A feeling so intense couldn't be all for naught. Could it?

Would it be a coincidence that the last time she'd saw him was at a wedding? What exactly was the universe trying to convey?

She took a sip of her wine and murmured.

"Only time will tell."

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