Headstrong Like Us (Like Us 6)

Back for the night at the villa, stars glitter in the sky, and Maximoff opens the terrace doors while I rest Ripley down in his crib.

I glance over my shoulder, feeling Maximoff eyeing me. “What are you thinking?” I ask.

“This time tomorrow night you’re going to be my husband,” he says. “And it’s strange because I’ve already felt like you are.”

My lips lift. “It’s not official until tomorrow.” I sweep him from head to toe. “You nervous?”

He wavers, like he’s contemplating being sarcastic, and then he says, “A bit. I just want everything to go well for you.”

“There’s no way it could go bad, wolf scout.”

He nods assuredly. “Yeah, I know.” He gives me the same once-over. “You nervous?”

He didn’t dodge the question, so I don’t either. “Yeah, but only because I don’t want it to go too fast.” It feels like we’ve waited years for tomorrow to arrive and also just a single day. But I don’t think about what’s ahead yet. I stay in the present, one last unmarried night with him.

43

FARROW KEENE

The Wedding Day

Today is the day. July 9th. The last day that I’m just Farrow Redford Keene. The first day of many that I can call Maximoff my husband.

And I still can’t believe that day is now.

“You look like fucking fire,” Donnelly says, grinning as he watches me tuck a black button-down into expensive black slacks. Top buttons are undone, showing off the half-skull tattoo on my sternum.

I feel recklessly invincible.

Powered by a stubborn, unshakable love that I ache to meet head-on.

Excitement wrings the air, the energy infectious while my grooms party gets ready in Donnelly’s villa.

I haven’t seen Maximoff since early this morning. My lip lifts, knowing the next time we lock eyes, we’ll be walking down the aisle. Fuck, I crave to rest my gaze against his gaze, and we’ve barely been apart.

Oscar digs into a bag of Cheetos. “The Groom might drop to his knees at the altar.”

I skirt over that, more concentrated on the location of Oscar’s hand. “You do know you’re wearing white?”

Oscar is dressed in the groomsmen attire: white button-down and casual white slacks. Groomswomen could either wear white jumpsuits or summer dresses.

He licks bright-orange dust off his thumb. “Aware. But I’m also a snack expert. I wouldn’t recommend this for anyone else.” He looks to our friend. “That means you, Donnelly.”

He smirks and waves a hand down his body. “I’m not risking all of this for a fuckin’ Cheeto.” They banter back and forth.

My smile stretches, and facing a full-length, carved-wood mirror, I fix a few out-of-place strands of black hair.

Thatcher picks a box of cigars off the bed.

Alpha sent those.

He inspects the card, reading silently. But I remember what it says.

For the Maverick,

Congrats on tying the knot. We’re wishing you a lifetime of happiness with your husband, and we also look forward to working with you alongside Kitsuwon Securities. Have a smoke on us.

- Security Force Alpha

I can’t read Thatcher that well. “Surprised, Moretti?” I ask him.

“No.” He places the card back. “You?”

I tilt my head. “Yeah, a little bit.” I check my jaw for razor-bumps. I look hot. “For as many side-eyes as they gave me for being with a client, I would’ve thought they’d send me a lump of coal.” Glancing back, I catch his serious gaze.

“You worked with a lot of men on Alpha for three years,” Thatcher tells me. “You might’ve been a pain in their ass, but you’ve always been an asset.”

I’m positive Thatcher sees me as an asset too. It’s why he wanted me “all-in” with security. I still couldn’t care less what Alpha thinks of me. I don’t live for that type of validation, but I like knowing Thatcher and I are more understanding of each other.

And I smile, because I know I’m not just valuable to him on a security level. But on a human level, we have something there too.

Luna exits the bathroom in a white jumpsuit and throws up a Spock salute. We all compliment her look: the subtle glitter under her eyes and tops of her cheeks.

She smiles at my attire. “Moffy’s gonna faint.”

I laugh. “I’ll catch him.”

Luna is beaming with real fucking happiness, and her eyes well like this is also a dream. Me joining her family. Yeah, I feel that too. We hug, and afterwards, she inspects Alpha’s present, sniffing a cigar.

Our heads turn as terrace doors bang against the wall. A cool breeze gusts inside, sheer drapes blowing wildly. The cloudy sky isn’t that ominous to me.

Oscar peers outside. “The storm might pass over.”

I shrug. “I really don’t give a shit.”

Rain or shine, I’m still marrying the love of my life today.

Donnelly glances down at his cell. “Jane’s asking if you need anything.”

Thatcher straightens up at her name. He hasn’t said anything, but I’m guessing he’s not the biggest fan of Jane communicating with Donnelly over him. Jane wants to give Donnelly the responsibilities that come with being the best man, and I appreciate that.