Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
I had to find a compromise.
Immediately.
“Are you gonna dance with me at the reception?” I asked, thinking Tex would balk at that for sure and I could give the walk-down-the-aisle part to Tex and the father-daughter dance to Smithie.
“Yes,” Tex answered immediately.
I blinked.
“You are?” I queried.
“Fuck yes. The father dances with his girl after the wedding. Right?” Tex replied.
“Yes,” I whispered, and did it feeling Mo’s arm get tighter around me.
Tex nodded sharply and stated, “I’ve already picked the song. ‘Not While I’m Around.’”
Oh boy.
I knew that song.
Uh-oh.
I was going to cry.
While I fought that urge, I felt the room and knew Smithie knew that song too and Tex just won the argument.
“What’s Ray gonna do in all this?” Smithie asked me quietly, giving in without saying the words.
Ray was my biological dad. Since he began his ongoing gambling recovery, our relationship had been somewhat repaired. Like Mo’s oldest sister, for the sake of family, and because she had a generous heart, Jet had asked our dad to give her away at her wedding.
Then again, that hadn’t worked out all that well and not because Dad was a dick. Because Eddie had taken one look at Jet in her wedding dress and broke ranks at the altar to prowl down the aisle and claim her before Dad got the shot to give her away.
It was hilarious.
It was super sweet.
It was totally romantic.
And it was hot as fuck.
Sadly, the scars my father left me would never go away, so he wasn’t going to get that honor from me mostly because I was grown up, and Tex still lived the words of the song he’d picked for our dance. On the other hand, Dad played a role in making me, and throughout my life, he’d never lived those words.
“He’ll be invited,” I told Smithie. “But I think he’ll get why he won’t play a bigger part.”
“Right then,” Smithie muttered, lifting a hand and rubbing it over the top of his head. He dropped his hand and went on, “So, guess I’ll see you Tuesday next.”
Current drama over.
It was good to be loved.
I just wished being that loved wasn’t so loud and didn’t interrupt bathroom-counter sex with my man.
I mean seriously, if this shit didn’t stop, my neighbors were going to come over and complain to me.
“Yeah, Smithie,” I replied.
Smithie studied my face, couldn’t process the love I knew was shining there in company, so he turned his attention up to Mo.
“Hey, Mo.”
“Yo,” Mo grunted.
With that, Smithie took his leave, but not before I grabbed his hand as he tried to make by me and made him stop so I could give it a squeeze.
Smithie squeezed back.
Then he vamoosed.
When we heard the front door close, Tex asked me, “Am I gonna have to fight ’em all back with a club?”
He might mean Ray.
He might mean Mag, Auggie, Axl or Boone.
Hell, he might even mean Paul, Taylor or Rick.
My family was expanding, bonds were tightening, and it was just simply the manner of men I was fortunate enough to have in my life.
But for that role, there was only one for me.
The one who made my mother happy.
And the one who would pick that song to dance the father-daughter dance.
I smiled at my stepdad. “No, Tex, I think you’ve successfully staked your claim.”
“I better,” he muttered. Then he asked, “You healin’?”
“Almost good as new,” I told him.
He turned to Mo. “What’re you up to today?”
“Hopin’ I can spend a quiet Saturday with my girl without my sisters, her sisters, my brothers, her brothers, or any other parental units like you fuckin’ it up,” Mo replied.
“Right, that’s my get-the-fuck-out cue,” Tex said, came to me, dropped a hand on the top of my head before he removed it and kissed me there, gave Mo an insane-looking grimace that I was pretty sure was a smile, then he took off.
Mo moved to the front door to lock it behind Tex and came back.
The instant he hit the living room, I asked, “Where were we?”
Then I cried out because I was over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
Seconds later I was on my back in bed with Mo on top of me.
Oh yeah.
That was where we were.
Some time later…
“Mag, listen to me, it’s gonna be okay,” I said into my phone.
“Lottie, I’m gonna—”
“Mag,” I cut him off, “you’re gonna get married tomorrow. The end.”
Mag was silent.
I was silent.
He broke it first.
“Have I thanked you, darlin’?”
I smiled. “No.”
“Thank you, Lottie,” he said softly.
What he was thanking me for, it was my pleasure.
“Don’t mention it. Glad you’re happy. Glad you’re making Evie happy. Now go get some rest. You don’t need bags under your eyes in the photos tomorrow.”
“Like that’ll happen,” he muttered.
“It happens, even to dudes,” I told him. “You need to hydrate and get sleep, or you’ll have puffy eyes.”