Page 104 of Fury
When the dance ends, Greyson is immediately at my side, his arm sliding possessively around my waist. "Mind if I steal my wife back?"
"She's all yours," Dad says, the words carrying weight beyond this moment. He presses a kiss to my forehead before stepping away. "Take care of each other."
My dad walks across the dance floor and sweeps my mom into a dance, staring down at her like the world ends and begins with her.
I hope down the line that Greyson and I still look at each other the same way.
Greyson leads me to a quiet corner of the garden, away from the revelry. In the fading twilight, with fairy lights twinkling around us, he pulls me into his arms.
"Wife," he says, testing the word on his tongue. "My wife."
"Husband," I counter, loving the way his eyes darken at the sound. "Forever."
His kiss is deeper this time, hungrier, his hands splaying across my back to draw me closer. When we finally part, both breathless, he rests his forehead against mine.
"How much longer do we have to stay?" he asks, his voice rough with desire.
I laugh, delighting in his impatience. "At our own wedding reception? At least until we cut the cake."
He groans theatrically. "That could be hours."
"Good things come to those who wait," I tease, brushing my lips against his jaw.
His arms tighten around me, his next words a promise against my ear. "And I plan to make it very, very good, Mrs. Reed."
A shiver runs down my spine at the heat in his voice. "In that case, maybe we can skip the cake."
His laugh rumbles through his chest. "Your father would hunt me down."
"Probably," I agree, nestling closer to him. "But you'd be worth it."
A year passes in a blur of moments—lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, midnight rides along coastal highways, quiet dinners, and passionate nights. The clubhouse becomes our second home, a place where family gathers and bonds strengthen. Through it all, Greyson remains my constant, his love unwavering as we build our life together.
Today, I sit on the edge of our bathtub, staring at the plastic stick in my trembling hands. Two pink lines. Unmistakable. Undeniable. My free hand drifts to my still flat stomach.
A baby. Our baby.
Three tests sit lined up on the counter, all bearing the same result. I've suspected for weeks—the missed period, the sudden aversion to coffee, the tenderness in my breasts—but seeing the confirmation sends my heart racing with a mixture of joy and terror.
Greyson doesn't know I've been testing. He's been away for two days, due home any minute. How will he react? We've talked about children in abstract terms. Someday, our future family. But now that someday is today, and the future is growing inside me.
The rumble of his motorcycle in the driveway sends a jolt through my system. I quickly gather the tests, wrapping them in tissue before tucking them into my pocket. I want to tell him right, make it special.
"Livie?" His voice echoes through our home, followed by the thud of his boots in the hallway.
"In here," I call back, my voice surprisingly steady despite the emotions churning inside me.
He appears in the doorway, leather cut hanging open over a black t-shirt, his hair wind-blown from the ride. My heart swells at the sight of him, this man who is my husband, who will soon be the father of my child.
"Hey, beautiful," he says, crossing to pull me into his arms. "Missed you."
I breathe him in, leather and wind and something uniquely Greyson, as his lips find mine in a kiss that still makes my knees weak after all this time.
"How was the run?" I ask when we part, stalling for time as I search for the right words.
"Uneventful. Supply chain's secure." His eyes narrow slightly as he studies my face. "You okay? You look… different."
I take a deep breath, suddenly certain I don't need elaborate plans or perfect moments. "I have something to tell you."
