Mom throws her hands in the air in exasperation. “Well, I’m sorry. My oldest son is getting—er got married already and—that’s besides the point! My oldest son is getting married! I’m soooooo sorry if I want everyone to see my baby boy marry the man of his dreams.”
I cannot even deal. But, I’m also not surprised in the slightest. As big as Billings is, it still seems as if everybody knows everybody, and what’s more… mymotherknows everybody. I should have known that this wasn’t going to be a small function.
I look around the room to find every single person is smiling at her and more than happy to go along with my mom’s schemes. Even the Youngs. So, I then look at Theo, silently asking if he’s okay with the spectacle this is about to become. His eyes search mine, and the smile he’s had permanently glued to his face since we got here remains intact.
With an agreeable sigh, I walk to Mom, put my hands on her shoulders and say, “I’m sure it will be beautiful, Momma,” and kiss her on the cheek.
She practically beams. “Thank you,” she says softly. “Now, off you go. Go, go, go.”
We give everyone our “see you laters,” but I don’t miss the mischievous look my mom gives Theo. It’s the same look she used to give Dad when she would try to “fix” something around the house without letting one of us help her, only for her to ultimately make it worse and need to hide the evidence.
I’ve seen that look so many times I am positive that she has something else up her sleeve.
But what I’m not positive of is what it could be that involves Theo.
* * *
“Okay.” I look over my shoulder at Theo as he stands on the step below me, my hand stilled on the doorknob. “Once you see how nice it is in here, don’t get the idea that Mom is going to allow us to stay out here every time we visit. Because if I don’t sleep in my childhood bedroom at Christmas her nostalgia might literally kill her.”
A soft chuckle rumbles in Theo’s chest. “Just open the door.”
I turn the knob and push the door open, and I’m immediately hit with the glow of what might be a thousand lit candles. They’re everywhere. On the floor. On the counters. On the coffee table. Hell, I can even see them coming from the bathroom. I take a few steps into the room, my jaw open in awe and confusion. “I think this might have been my mother’s doing,” I say as I slowly turn back toward Theo. “She likes to play cup?—”
Right there in front of me, bags left in the entryway, is Theo down on one knee, a soft smile covering his face. ?*“I might have helped her with this one.”
“What did you—When did you—How did you?”
“I got her number out of your phone the first night you stayed over.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “You do know we’re already married, right?”
“Mhm.”
“And we’re going to have a wedding. Like, tomorrow.”
“Mhmmm.”
“And—”
“Jackson Baker, if you ask one more question I might slap you.” I tip my head back in laughter as he uses the words I said to him when he was panicking in front of Coach’s office just a couple of weeks ago. Regaining my composure, I run my fingers across my lips, mimicking zipping them closed, and throwing away the key. “I just”—he takes a deep breath—“I wanted to do something the right way… for once.”
I think my heart may literally melt into a puddle onto this floor.
“When it comes to you, I have done everything wrong since the very first day I stomped across the street and into your house. Countless times I misstepped, and countless times you gave me chance after chance. And yet, I somehow did everything wrong. But I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I did two things right. Do you know what those are?”
Tears sting at my eyes, and I fight back a sob as I shake my head. “No.”
“The first… being completely and irrevocably in love with you from the first time I saw you out my living room window. I might have not known it then, but looking back on it now, there’s no other word to describe what I felt for you. I love you, Jackson Baker. And while I’ll never stop being sorry for all of the things I did to you, I’ll never be sorry for loving you even when I shouldn’t have.”
Fuck, there it is.
A broken sob falls from my lips, and two small tears stream down my cheeks. “And the second thing?” I manage to choke out.
His smile gets even wider. “Marrying you in front of that ridiculous Elvis impersonator and making you my husband.”
Ah shit. More tears.
“So, Jax. Love of my life. My husband. Will you do me the honor of staying married to me?”