Page 118 of Conception
I grin down at her. “I’ll rein it in, babe.”
Her coy smile tells me she knows it’s an uphill battle. “I’ll still love you regardless.”
“Promise?”
“Always,” she whispers. Her eyes rise to meet mine, round and full of wonder. “We’re getting married.”
My heart does a joyous somersault just hearing her saw the words. “Yeah, Melia. We’re fuckin’ gettin’ married.”
She swats my arm. “Hey!”
“I’ll work on it.”
“So…what are you thinking? A long engagement?”
“Fu—” I catch myself, and the appreciation mixed with amusement in her eyes has me making a mental note to actually try like I said I would. “Heck no. I want to marry you as soon as possible. We don’t have to run away to Vegas or anything, but the sooner the better. I don’t want to risk you getting away again.”
“If you recall, you’re the one who got away,” she says, her tone wry.
“I’m an ass. If you’re going to spend the rest of your life with me, you may as well get used to it. Plus, I’m also the one who came back.”
“I can’t argue with that. I’ll marry you anytime, anywhere.”
A brilliant idea formulates in my mind. “One month.”
“Knox, I can’t plan a wedding for a month from now!” she squeals in protest.
“You don’t have to lift a finger other than finding your dress. Leave the rest up to me.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re going to plan a wedding?”
“Hell yeah I am,” I say, not even trying to censor myself. “You have enough on your hands with the baby. Trust me, you won’t regret it.”
“If you say so…”
“Babe, have I ever steered you wrong?” I tease.
She tilts her head to the side and studies me. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
I open my mouth to respond, but she rises on her toes and laces her arms around my neck.
“It was a rhetorical question. Now, shut up and kiss the future Mrs. Wellington.”
Well, I can’t deny my future wife, now can I?
IF I’D THOUGHT MY SUMMERromance was a whirlwind, that had nothing on the month leading up to our wedding. I barely had a chance to breathe, to step back and take it all in.
Like he promised, Knox took care of everything. The only thing I asked for was that it be a small wedding, with just family and close friends.
Now that we’re on the way to Nashville for our wedding weekend, the nerves creep in.
“How exactly have we managed to stay in our isolated bubble for three months without your mom or my grams barging in?”
Knox parks in his parents’ driveway and glances over at me from the driver’s seat. “I don’t know about your grams, but I told Mom if she came to Crystal Cove before she was invited, I’d never come back to Wellington.”
“She didn’t call your bluff?”
His smirk brings that dimple to the surface. It’s the same dimple our son has. The dimple I absolutely adore. “Have you met my mom yet?”
