Page 70 of Mine to Hold
His everything.
He’d love her until his last breath.
She was his to hold.
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER…
“You may kiss the bride.”
Emmerson took his wife into his arms and placed a wet, passionate kiss on her sweet lips.
It had been a small ceremony at his mother’s house. Family only. They hadn’t wanted a big wedding. Nor had they wanted to take the time to plan one as they only got engaged two weeks ago. But neither one of them wanted to wait. They didn’t see the point. Kind of like how Rumor never moved back into the pool house.
They fit together and their love for one another was as strong as ever.
“Yay, Uncle Emmerson!” his little niece Ally yelled.
A few more shouts and cheers erupted.
He was married.
To Rumor.
The woman who had captured his heart and become his partner. She was perfect and she looked beautiful in an ankle-length off-white dress with skinny straps that hugged her body.
“Save it for the honeymoon,” his father shouted.
Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss and gazed into Rumor’s adoring eyes. “Are you happy?”
“That is absolutely the dumbest question you have ever asked me.”
He laughed. “Come on. Let’s get a glass of champagne.” He took his wife’s hand and strolled proudly across the pool deck. A couple of his brothers slapped him on his back, congratulating him while a few of his nieces and nephews tossed confetti at him and his bride.
It was truly the single most joyous occasion of his life. He wasn’t sure if life could get any better.
He stopped at the bar and lifted two flutes.
“Water for me,” Rumor said. “I’m parched.”
“Come on, babe. We need to celebrate. It’s not every day I get married, and honestly, it won’t ever happen again. You’re it for me.”
“I better be.” She poked him in the chest.
“Ouch.” He set one of the glasses down and handed her a water bottle.
His mother, father, and Steve approached. “He still hasn’t figured it out yet, has he,” his mother said with a smirk.
“Nope. For a smart man, sometimes he’s as dumb as a doornail.” Rumor twisted the cap off the water bottle and chugged.
“I take offense to that statement.” He took a sip of champagne and glared at his parents, who smiled as if they harbored some giant secret.
Steve too.
Emmett sauntered over, carrying six-month-old Leslie. She stretched out her pudgy little arms, wiggling her fingers. “This one loves her uncle Emmerson.”
“I love her right back.” Emmerson took the little girl into his arms and blew raspberries on her cheek.
