Completion (13 page)

“More like a hostile takeover,” he corrected her.

“You did this because you thought I wouldn't go for it,” she suddenly blurted out.

“Excuse me?”

“You thought up the absolute worst way possible to propose, the most dickheadish way possible, so I'd say no, didn't you!?” she demanded. He laughed.

“You give me too much credit.”

“Get fucked.”

“That's
your
job.”

“You know what,
fuck you
. You think you can pull some shit like this!?” Tate started shouting, searching around for the pen he'd offered. She spied it on the floor and scooped it up. “I am gonna sign this stupid thing. I'll sign your fucking contract, complete your fucking merger.”

“Nobody's twisting your fucking arm, Tate. Wouldn't want to put you out,” he said in his scary soft voice.

“Nope. Too late,” she said in a sing song voice as she placed the prenup on a table and leaned over it, signing it with a flourish. “Can't take it back now, asshole. A fucking prenup. Not even a '
good morning
'.” She was mostly grumbling to herself as she stomped around the suite.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. She grabbed her sandals, hopped around as she slipped them on.

“Getting ready,” she growled.

“Ready to do what?”

“Shopping.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You want to get
mergered
? Then one of my
contractual stipulations
is that I need a fucking expensive white dress,” Tate informed him, struggling to pull on her jacket.

“Tate, just calm down and talk to me, we need to talk about this,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Too late for that! You had all this time to talk to me, but apparently making a fucking deal and drawing up a fucking contract was more important. So when is this magical merger going to take place?” she asked, throwing her purse strap over her head.

“We need to be there at six o'clock,” he told her, glancing at his watch. She gaped at him. He was really serious.

“Eight hours. You gave me a contract and eight hours,” she said softly. He reached for her.

“If you'd just let me finish tell-,” he began to say, but she yanked away.

“And a ring!” she suddenly yelled, heading for the door.

“What the fuck are you talking about now!?” he called out from behind her as she stepped into the hallway.

“I'm going to buy a white fucking dress, and a big goddamn diamond ring,
you asshole!
” she shrieked at him before slamming the door shut.

A contract. Two years. A contract. A fucking contract. Two fucking years.

Tate stormed down the hall, took a turn, then stopped in front of another door. She knocked on it till the occupant opened up.

“Is everything alright?” Sanders asked, looking startled.

“C'mon, let's go!” she yelled, walking back down the hall.

“Excuse me?” he replied. She heard the door shut, then he was right beside her.

“You knew, didn't you!?” she demanded, hitting the down button once they got to the elevator.

“Knew what? What's happened?” Sanders sounded flabbergasted. The doors slid open and they went inside.

“Knew what he was doing,” she said.

“What was he doing?” Sanders continued, looking bewildered.

“His lawyer! Those stupid contracts he went on about! '
Mergers
'! How could you not tell me!?” Tate asked, turning on him as the elevator started its descent. Sanders winced.

“I'm terribly sorry, he asked me not to,” was his answer. She let out a frustrated shriek, making a choking gesture at his throat.

“Are you kidding me!? How many times have I told you, told
both of you
, that I fucking hate that shit!?” Tate yelled at him.

“You have mentioned, several times, that you -,”

“Shut up. Just shut up. Talk about a bad fucking idea. A contract!? Did he think I'd say no, is that why he did it? Well, fuck that noise, he wants to pull some bullshit like that, I
will
marry him, just to piss him off,” Tate threatened, striding out into the lobby when the elevator opened up.

“Um, okay,” was Sanders' only response.

Valet brought the car around. Tate sat in the backseat, wanting to keep distance between herself and Sanders. She still had the urge to strangle him. She instructed him to take her to the nearest, nicest, shopping center.

They shopped around for quite a while. Tate didn't buy just one wedding dress – she bought
three
. She also bought a diamond encrusted necklace and a tiara.
A tiara
. She forced Sanders to sit in a lingerie shop while she picked out corsets and bustiers and stockings and garters.

“Are you having several weddings?” he asked. She glared at him.

“I wouldn't know, would I? No one asked my opinion,” she snapped back, then spent even more money.

“Where to now?” Sanders sighed, loading her purchases into the trunk of the car.

“I want you to find the most expensive jewelry store in all of Hong Kong,” she ordered him.

“Of course.”

They drove for a while. Tate stewed in the back seat, glaring out the window. Fucking Sanders.
Fucking Jameson
. She just couldn't get over it. When she'd been a little girl and had imagined getting married, had imagined a man proposing to her, it certainly hadn't been like how Jameson had done it. She pictured someone proposing with a ring, not a with a prenup. Proposing down on one knee, not by dropping a contract on her. Proposing with poetic prose, not legal jargon. Proposing with …,

Jameson proposed to me. It was fucked up and all kinds of wrong. But he proposed. Jameson Kane just proposed to me. Jameson Kane wants to marry me. Jameson Kane wants to spend the rest of his life with me.
Jameson Kane just proposed to me.

“Sanders, pull over,” she breathed.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Pull over,” she said it louder.

“Tatum, we are on a freeway, I can't just -,”

“Pull over, or I'm gonna puke in this back seat.”

Sanders pulled over, putting on the hazard lights as he sidled the car into an emergency lane. Tate scooted across the seat to the passenger side and rolled down the window, stuck her head outside. She kept her mouth wide open and took deep breaths, her eyes squeezed tightly closed.

“Are you alright?” Sanders called out. She waved a hand at him and slowly sat back down.

“I will be,” she panted, rolling up the window.

“Are you car sick?”

“No,” she answered.

“May I ask what the problem is?”

Tate opened her eyes. Stared at the roof of the car. Blinked back tears.

“Did he really propose to me?” she whispered.

“Yes. Yes, he did,” Sanders assured her.

“Is it real? Are we really supposed to get married today?” she kept on with the questions.

“Yes. In three hours, actually,” he told her, glancing at his watch.

Tate started to cry.

“I'm sorry,” she sobbed. Sanders sighed and started to crawl over the front seat. She actually started laughing – she'd never seen him do something so awkward. But by the time he was sitting next to her, the laughter had died away.

“Do you not want to get married?” he asked, taking her hand when she held it out to him.

“No. I mean,
I do
, I do want to get married. I just didn't know it was happening today. I had no idea he wanted to get married,” she sniffled, turning in her seat and swinging her legs up, covering his lap with them.

“You've been together for quite a long time, surely it had to be somewhere in the back of your mind that this might happen,” he pointed out, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and scooting her closer

“Well, yeah, in
my
mind. Jameson's mind is a little different. I thought
I
would have to propose,” she explained, chuckling a little.

“He would never allow that,” Sanders told her. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I just …, can't believe it. All these years, Sandy, and I still can't believe he'd want to be with someone like me,” she said, pressing her forehead against his neck.

“That's silly, if you'll pardon me saying. Most people would ask how you are able to stay with him,” he pointed out. She shook her head.

“I don't know if I can handle this. It's too much, Sanders. He's just so much,” she whispered.

They were silent for a while. She clenched and unclenched her fingers around his, praying for him to say the right thing. To say something that would calm her down. To say something she needed to hear.

He didn't disappoint.

“You know what I think?” Sanders finally spoke.

“What?”

“Maybe … maybe being in love is like staring at the sun. Exactly where you want to be and too much, all at once,” he said in a soft voice.

Like staring at the sun. Jameson Kane, just the center of my universe, that's all.

“You're always right, Sanders,” she breathed. He chuckled.

“Time doesn't change some things.”

Tate laughed as well, then lifted her head and kissed him.

She and Sanders had a very different kind of relationship. They had never been romantically involved, had never been in love, yet they had been very intimate and were close in ways she had never been with anyone else. She never knew how to explain it. Sanders said they were soulmates, and it made sense to her.

So when she kissed him, it wasn't a sexual act. At least not to them. It was very natural. And he kissed her back, his hand squeezing her own. She smiled against his lips and pulled away a little.

“Do you think he'll still let us do that, after he marries me?” she asked, rubbing her nose.

“Well, what Jameson doesn't know, won't hurt him,” Sanders suggested. Tate burst out laughing.

“Why, Mr. Dashkevich, you have become very naughty in your old age,” she teased.

“Forgive me, Ms. O'Shea, but if I am '
naughty
', then it is because you made me this way.”

“
Flirt.
”

Sanders eventually crawled back into the front seat. Tate took some more deep breaths, wiping at her eyes. Okay. Jameson had proposed. A lot of things made sense now – that must be the reason for bringing in Ang. He would be her maid of honor, so-to-speak. That's why the night before, Ang had kissed her like it would be the last chance he got to do so. That's why Jameson had arranged dinner with her parents. That's why Nick had wanted to talk to her. Everyone but Tate had known what Jameson was planning. He had organized everything very carefully, very secretively.

“Where to now?” Sanders asked, looking at her in the rear view mirror. Tate let out a sigh, ran her hands through her hair.

“To the mall. Let's go back to a mall,” she said.

“You need
more
stuff?” he questioned. She smiled.

“Just a couple things.”

Jameson Kane was nervous. Very, very, nervous.

It was six-thirty, and no Tate.

He had known he was taking a risk. When Jameson had called his lawyer about drawing up the prenuptial agreement, he had figured on giving it to Tate in Boston. She could just come down to the office and the lawyer could explain everything. A conversation could actually take place.

But then it turned out Jameson's lawyer was dealing with another client in Singapore. Once Jameson got his mind set on something, though, it was hard to turn it off. He didn't want to go to Singapore, but he was willing to go to Hong Kong. His lawyer agreed to start on the paperwork, then they could go over it together when it was finished.

Jameson didn't know what Tate expected from him. Did she honestly think he would get down on one knee? Sing her a song or something? Fuck that noise. It hadn't even occurred to him.

The only thing that had been going through Jameson's head was that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and he wanted that to start as soon as possible.
Immediately.
So if that meant flying them halfway around the world, then so be it. Whatever it took.

Apparently Tatum didn't feel the same way.

“Don't worry, man,” Ang mumbled, then Jameson felt his hand on his shoulder. “She'll be here.”

“This isn't exactly how I pictured this all going. You're supposed to be here for
her
, not me,” Jameson sighed.

“Consider it a bonding opportunity,” Ang suggested.

“Don't make me ill.”

In all honesty, Jameson
was
grateful for Ang's presence. The younger man had an upbeat, jovial personality. Somewhat of a glass-half-f kind of outlook. So while Jameson felt like he was slowly drowning, waiting to see if she would show up, waiting for some sort of text or phone call, at least from Sanders, it was nice having Ang there, trying to cheer him up.

Though “
trying
” was the keyword.

“Maybe they got caught in traffic?” Ang offered.

“Please stop talking now,” Jameson groaned, then looked at his watch again. Six-forty-five.

“I do have another engagement,” the minister Jameson had hired piped up.

“Just give it some time,” Jameson snapped.

But fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of them. The sun had almost set and a strong breeze was rolling in off the ocean. A beach wedding had seemed like a romantic idea. Now it was just depressing.

Maybe she and Sanders ran away together. Would fucking figure.

“I'm very sorry,” the minister apologized. Jameson sighed and turned towards him.

“No, I'm sorry for wasting your time. Thank you for waiting,” he said, shaking the man's hand.

“Of course. And please, don't worry. I'm sure there's -,”

“
We're here! We're here!
”

Jameson turned around. Tate was running down the beach, Sanders jogging somewhat behind her. She was waving something in the air, trying to signal them. He took a deep breath, let his eyes fall shut.

“
Thank god,
” he murmured.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I had to return a bunch of stuff, and we lost track of time, and then traffic was a bitch, and I'm just so sorry,” she sounded out of breath as she reached them.

Jameson opened his eyes and looked down at Tate. Her dress was simple – a short, strapless, cream colored number. She didn't have any shoes on, or any accessories, except for a random batch of white flowers that she was clutching in her right hand. They looked liked they had been plucked from a garden. Her hair was up in a high, messy ponytail. Her eye makeup was dark and smudgy, and she wore pale pink lip gloss.

She looked
exactly
like the woman he had first met, catering that party so many years ago.

I am so fucking in love with this girl …

“I thought you were standing me up,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“Please. I had Sanders stop by the hotel, I saw your will – very generous, Mr. Kane. I'm not going anywhere,” she teased him.

“God, I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Shut up.”

“
You
shut up.”

“I'm sorry,” the minister interrupted, “would you still like to do this?”

It was short and simple, just how Jameson had been hoping. Sanders and Ang acted as witnesses. Tate said “
I do
”, which was like a weight off. No going back, now. When it came time to exchange rings, she tried to wave the man away.

“We don't have those, it's okay,” she told him. Jameson held up his hand.

“Maybe
you
don't, but I do,” he said, digging in his pocket.

“You got me a ring?” she asked.

“I
already had
a ring,” he corrected her.

“You had a ring, and instead of giving me that, you gave me that prenup!?” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips.

“I was going to give it to you after you looked at the prenup, but you were too busy having a fucking fit. Now shut up and hold out your hand,” he ordered. She did as she was told and he slid the large diamond onto her ring finger, happy that it fit well. He'd had it sized based on one of her other rings.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, bringing her hand to her face. “This is beautiful. Jesus, Jameson, where did you get it?”

“Harry Winston.”

“Pardon?”

“Harry Winston. I had it made in New York. It took a while, I worked with a lot of designers. If it was going to sit on your finger, then it had to be perfect. No one else will have that ring. Just you.”

Tate stared at him for a second, tears filling her eyes. He hated it when she cried, but he was glad that she remembered. Glad she remembered as well as he did.

“
There will never be a ring from Harry Winston. I will never ask you to marry me. I don't want those things, I never did ... I don't want to put stars in your eyes, I'm not that guy. I'm the devil, and I don't have any plans to change ...
”

I am so fucking stupid. I take back everything I said – I should've gotten her this ring in the beginning. We should have been together from the start. I am
that
guy, and I do want to see those stars in her eyes. Want to know I'm the only one to put them there.

Luckily, before Tate's tears could spill over, she practically jumped on him, kissing him in a way that made the minister blush.

“Excuse me.
Excuse me!
” the man cleared his throat. “I haven't gotten to that part yet.”

“I think they're there, dude,” Ang's voice laughed.

They broke apart long enough to hear the rest of the minister's speech and thank him. Jameson gave him a huge tip before waving goodbye. Then he shook hands with Ang and thanked him for being there, thanked him for his calm demeanor. Ang laughed at him, then actually hugged him.

Jameson managed to keep his dinner down.

Tate threw the bouquet in Ang's face before giving him a quick kiss goodbye, thanking him profusely and promising to wake him up early the next morning so she could yell at him for keeping everything a secret. Then she kissed Sanders, but there wasn't anything quick about it. She practically dipped him, shoving her tongue into his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” Jameson snapped. She pulled away laughing.

“Told you,” she snickered, winking at Sanders. Jameson had no clue what that meant and chose to ignore it, walking a little ways back with Sanders.

“Thank you, for doing all this. I know it makes you uncomfortable,” Jameson said, resting his hand on Sanders' shoulder.

“It's not so bad, when I know the outcome will be a good one,” the other man replied.

“You had more faith than I did. She was so angry at the hotel, and then that was a
looooong
hour wait,” Jameson told him.

“Yes. She had somewhat of a break down in the car. Sometimes it takes her a while to realize what is good for her,” Sanders explained.

“Sometimes I think I'll never understand her as well as you do,” Jameson sighed.

“A little mystery is good for a relationship.”

Jameson barked out a laugh and stopped walking, pulled Sanders into a hug.

“I'm so glad you came. There's no one else I would want by my side at this moment,” he whispered. Sanders nodded, hugging him back.

“Not half as glad as I, sir. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.”

They pulled away, clearing their throats and blinking their eyes. They made plans for the next day, then Jameson said goodbye before turning and heading back to Tate.

“I almost thought you were going to go home with him,” she laughed. Jameson rolled his eyes.

“You have to obey me now, you took an oath, so shut the fuck up,” he ordered. She snorted.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“What do you want to do now, baby girl?” he asked, looking down at her as they strolled along the beach. She shrugged.

“I don't know. This is your party. You didn't plan anything beyond this?” Tate asked.

“Not really.”

“You suck at this.”

“Tate?”

“What?”

“Shut up now.”

“You know,” she ignored him, “if you had done this like a normal human being, there'd be a reception. A party, with people, things to do.”

“Ah. A normal human being. And what else would happen at a normal human being wedding?” Jameson questioned.

“Stuff. You'd throw the garter, I'd throw my bouquet, we'd do stupid dances, then you'd carry me over a thresh hold,” Tate prattled stuff off. Jameson sighed and stopped walking. He wrapped his arm around her waist, then yanked her legs up, cradling her in his arms.

“There's no thresh hold, so this will have to do. Where's your garter?” he asked, heading up the beach, towards a parking lot.

“I'm not wearing one.”

“Damn. Give me your panties, we'll throw those instead.”

“Not wearing those, either.”

“You, Mrs. Kane, are a very, very bad girl,” Jameson said in a low voice. She smiled up at him.

“That I am, Mr. Kane. You should probably punish me,” she suggested.

“Oh, I intend to.”

Jameson carried her up to the parking lot, but what he saw when they got there caused him to set her back down.

“What? What is it?” she asked, straightening out her dress. He didn't answer and she followed his scowl.

A group of guys was standing by the car Jameson had rented for himself. Most of them had large cameras hanging around their necks. How they'd found out what was going on, Jameson had no clue, but clearly, the secret was out.

“I didn't want to have to deal with this,” he grumbled, and right then, one of the camera guys spotted them. They all began moving and shouting at once.

“Kane! Kane! Is it true you planned a secret wedding?”

Flash. Flash.

“Kane! Is it true that when Mathias O'Shea opposed the wedding, you blocked all his shares!?”

Flash.

“Kane! Why did you get married in Hong Kong!?”

Flash.

“Guys, if you don't want to get arrested, I suggest you leave, now,” Jameson growled.

“Tell us about the wedding! Was Sanders there!?”

Flash.

“Give us a kiss! C'mon!”

Flash.

“Did I fucking stutter? I asked you to leave,” Jameson repeated himself.

Flash.

“Kiss her!”

Flash. Flash.

“Is it true you had a porn star as a best man!?”

Flash.

“If you take another picture, I'm gonna break that camera over your head,” Jameson threatened.

“Kiss her!”

Flash. Flash.

“Mrs. Kane! Why the secrecy? Didn't you want a big wedding!?”

Flash.

“That's it, you're gonna -,” Jameson started, but Tate grabbed his arm. When he looked down at her, he was shocked to see that she was smiling.

“What did you just call me?” she asked the paparazzi that was closet to her. He looked flabbergasted for a minute.

“Um, I asked if you wanted to have a big wedding, Mrs. Kane,” he repeated himself. Her smile got even bigger.

“I like that. Okay, you boys get one picture before I turn
Mr.
Kane loose on you,” Tate offered. Jameson groaned.

“Give us a kiss! Kiss her!” All the paparazzi were shouting at once. Tate laughed and stood on her toes, wrapping her arm around Jameson's shoulders.

“Just give them what they want,” she suggested.

“You better not get used to getting what
you
want,” he warned her, sliding his arm around her waist.