“Little tacker dances like his uncle,” Jake says proudly, snapping me out of my loving gaze.
I raise my eyebrow at him. “You dance?”
“I put Patrick Swayze to shame.”
Coughing then choking on my beer, I call his bluff. “Bullshit! You look like you have two left feet.”
“Don’t bait me, Clark. I wouldn’t want to show you up on your big day.”
This time I laugh loudly. “Not gonna happen, Jakey Snakey,” I taunt him, Jakey Snakey being Alexis’ pet name for her brother, the same pet name Brayden now uses for his uncle. And a pet name I know Jake hates.
He slams his beer down on the nearest table. “I fucking warned you,” he smiles, then takes off toward the band. I watch with curiosity as he says something to Simon—the lead singer.
Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of drums in “Need You Tonight” by INXS sound throughout the room. Alexis and Jen’s heads both prick up like meerkats, spotting Jake head toward the centre of the dance floor. The smile that then spreads across my wife’s face indicates she knows what is about to happen.
Jen wolf-whistles and shouts, “Lexi, get over here.”
Squealing, Alexis meets my eyes and gives Brayden a gentle push on the bum, steering him toward me. And, without further encouragement, he launches himself in my direction at full speed. I swear to God, one and a half year-olds do not know how to walk. Run...yes, walk...no.
I gather him up and throw him into the air before catching him again, the sound leaving his mouth as he soars above my head the best fucking sound in the world—I could listen to my son giggle 24/7.
“What are Mummy, Aunty Jen, and Uncle Snakey up to?” I ask as I walk closer to the dance floor which is now circled by our family and friends.
“Sssssss, snake,” Brayden hisses.
I laugh. “Yes, snakes go hiss.”
He screws his face up all serious like. “Woof, woof. Grrrr.”
“Are you a cat?” I enquire.
Brayden bursts into laughter and playfully slaps me on the forehead. “Sill-ee Dadda. Bayden a dog.”
“Ohh...of course you are,” I fake my stupidity as I kiss him on the cheek.
Lifting my head to look above everyone else’s, I spot Alexis and Jen performing simultaneous dance moves as Jake dances his way around the inside of the circle. I have to admit, he isn’t bad, sliding when the lyrics suggest, then moving quite raw when the lyrics suggest that.
Johanna—Jake’s girlfriend of two years—snorts and giggles as he drags her out into the centre of the circle. Then, lifting his eyebrow up at me in a watch-this-you-motherfucker kind of way, he swings Johanna’s arms around his neck and starts dirty dancing with her—Patrick Swayze style. I shake my head then salute him. Cocky prick!
After the speeches are said, the bouquet tossed and caught by Carly, and Alexis’ electric blue garter is removed by my teeth, I can quite happily admit that I’ve had enough. I now want nothing more than to have Alexis all to myself. I want to spend the next 18 hours—that it approximately takes to fly to Paris—buried deep inside her, underneath her, on top of her, and wrapped around her.
I can’t wait. She is going to flip when she finds out where we are going, but as per usual, she will not find out until we are there. Part of the fun is going to be teasing and taunting her, and if I’m lucky she will put up a fight. A fight I look forward to winning.
Now eagerly wanting to wrap up our celebrations and jet off to France, I search the room for my bride, finding her sitting with her girlfriends. I head in her direction.
Tash and Jade’s expressions as I approach the table have me a little confused, Tash with a shit-eating grin, and Jade, appearing to contemplate whether or not to jump off a cliff. But it’s Carly’s expression of not so subtly indicating Alexis cease her words by performing a slash-of-the-throat gesture that has me concerned the most.
“I hope he doesn’t want to divorce me when—” Alexis says, stopping mid-sentence as I come to a halt right behind her. “Shit! He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” she stutters.
“Why would I divorce you?” I whisper into her ear as I wrap my arms around her? “I’ve only just married you.”
She stiffens in my arms, making my unease heighten.
“I...I...I did something yesterday, and I’m not sure if you’ll like it or not. You may file for divorce.”
CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN
“What did you do?” I ask, not really caring what she did. There’s no way in hell I’d want a divorce. I’ve waited three years to make her my wife.
“I can’t tell you, it will have to wait until later.”
I spin her around to face me. “I will never divorce you, Mrs. Clark, so give me your worst.”
“It’s really not that bad. Well, I don’t think it is. You might, though. And if you do...well—” she starts to stutter nervously again, so I lean in and kiss her, cutting off her babbling words.
“Shhh,” I whisper against her lips as I break our kiss. “We can talk about it later, but for now I want to take my wife on a plane and have her scream her husband’s name over and over.”
“Mmmm, anything you say you incredibly sexy husband.”
Opening her eyes as if she has just awoken from a trance, she pulls away from me, her mouth wide, her expression embarrassed. I can’t help but chuckle.
“Shit! I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” I explain. “Come on. Let’s say our goodbyes.”
Pulling her to my side where she fits perfectly snug under my arm, she rests her head against my shoulder as we walk.
“I’m going to miss the kids. I hope Brayden will be okay staying with Mum and Dad.”
“He’ll be fine,” I reassure her, squeezing a little tighter, when truth be told, I have the same uncertainties.
We both take a seat at our table, and Alexis puts her arms out for Brayden who is sitting on Graeme’s lap. “Give Mummy a big cuddle, BB,” she mumbles into his neck as they bear-hug each other.
I automatically clench both my fists together, that being a natural reaction to the annoying nickname. But unfortunately, due to underestimating her ability to pull one over on me—and as it stands at this point in time—that bloody nickname is not going anywhere.
“You be a good boy for Nanny and Poppa, and Mummy and Daddy will see you in a couple of weeks, okay?”
“He’ll be fine, Darling. Poppa has some ‘farmy stuff’ we can do to keep us busy, don’t we, Bray?” Graeme explains, using his code for farm slavery.
“I am not cleaning out the chicken coop again. That was disgusting!” Charli complains.
“I’ll mow the lawns,” Nate pipes in, knowing that particular job comes with driving the ride-on mower.
Graeme laughs. “See, they’ll be fine. Go and enjoy yourselves.”
We hug all three kids and say goodbye before walking through a guard of honour.
“Are you gonna tell me where are we going yet?” Alexis asks as she unlatches her seat belt when Paul—the captain of the plane—informs us we can do so.
Following suit, I remove my belt and stand up. “No. You’ll find out when we get there.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you my surprise then,” she pouts with a smile.
I offer her my hand and pull her up, flush with my chest.
“Thank you,” she says like a stubborn child and then turns her back to me. I follow closely behind as she walks toward the bedroom, and even though she is clearly shitty due to my refusal to disclose our location, her leading me to our bed is evidence she still wants to make love. I smirk at her cuteness and then place my hand at the top of her arse, firmly guiding her.