Page 77 of Rude Boss 2

Chapter 15

Essex

OUR wedding is picture perfecton this sunny, eighty-degree day. Seeing Quintessa walking toward me in a gorgeous gown makes this all the more real. This woman who changed my life is officially all mine and now everyone knows it – not just us.

The reception takes place out here too. The wedding planner I hired worked her last-minute magic. She set up a portable dance floor surrounded by enough tables for fifty guests, all with white tablecloths decorated with red and pink roses. It’s better than I imagined it would be.

We take pictures.

We dance. Our first dance.

She dances with her father. I watch in pure amazement.

My Tessie. She’s wearing my ring. She has my name. I can truly call her mine.

Her parents congratulate us for the thousandth time.

We dance some more.

Quintessa tries to make me do the electric slide – ain’t happening. I don’t line dance. I two-step solo and the only reason I slow dance is because Quintessa’s hands are in mine and her body’s close to me.

We eat a little.

Very little.

We’re too wound up to eat heavy. Too much in celebration mode. My food is champagne and I prefer tasting it off Quintessa’s lips.

Forks clank against champagne flutes – a signal for us to kiss. We take advantage. Our guests do this too many times to count. Each time, I’m here for it. For anything that involves my mouth being on Quintessa’s body.

Her friend Ella wants to give a speech. She stands and says, “I’ve known Quintessa since college. I wish we’d met in high school when she met this guy. I would have loved to witness their love story, but I’m fortunate to be a part of it now. Quintessa has been through it all. She’s had some rough patches, but one thing I can truly say about this woman is that she never…” Ella’s face turns red. She’s trying her hardest not to cry. “She never gives up. So, I just want to say I wish you both the best, I look forward to getting to know you better, Essex, and you truly have a diamond by your side—and I’m not talking about that juicy ring you gave her either. I’m talking abouther. My best friend.”

Quintessa gets up and walks over to Ella. They embrace and wipe the tears from each other’s eyes.

I stand up and say, “I have something I’d like to say as well.”

Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at me. I say, “People go their whole lives and never get a chance to meet their soulmate—that one person on earth who gets them. Who understands them. The person who goes above and beyond for them. Who shows their love not by mere words, but by action. That’s what Quintessa has done for me since day one—showed her love by action. It’s how I knew that no other woman could do what she does for me. She’s unparagoned – no one could ever satisfy me with just a look. A touch. Comforting words of encouragement. She does it all and I can truly say that there has never been, nor will there ever be, any woman who can take her place.” I hold up my champagne flute and say, “Here’s to the rest of our lives, baby. I love you.”

My misty-eyed wife places a hand over her heart before she walks over to me. I take her in my embrace and whisper in her ear, “I meant every word.”

“I know you did.”

And we kiss again – I could never get enough of her kisses. Her lips satisfy me, but never to the extent that I’ve had enough. That’s not possible.

The DJ cranks the music on again. Quintessa’s parents are the first to hit the floor. Quintessa is apprehensive about her mom dancing after the fall she took, but from what I can see, Sylvie seems to be handling her own and having a good time.

We cut the cake soon after. I feed Quintessa a piece and instead of feeding me a piece, she pokes her index finger in the frosting and takes it to my mouth. The family loves it. They erupt in cheers and applause. I give them what they want. I take her entire finger into my mouth, but this frosting isn’t as sweet as her lips, so I take those too, parting them with my tongue and plunging my tongue inside her mouth. I don’t know if the action stunned everyone because I don’t hear a sound. All I know is I’m with my girl. My wife. Mrs. Quintessa DePaul.

I can breathe easy now. The thorn that made me a tyrant has been removed. I’m healed. I can live now. I can do anything with her by my side.

When everyone leaves and I have Quintessa all to myself, I pick her up, carry her inside of my home—ourhome—and lower her to the floor in the main living room. I say, “Do you see the empty space on this wall?”

She looks to where I’m pointing and says, “Yes. I see it. I noticed it when I first came over here.”

“When I first bought this house, I intentionally told my interior designer to leave this wall empty because I wanted our wedding picture blown up and put right here.”

“Stop playing with me, Essex.”

“I’m not. There were so many days I’d stand right here and stare, waiting for this day to come. Now, it has. I have you, and I’ll have you forever.”

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