Released (Caged #3)(45)

I reached for her stomach automatically. I couldn’t help either the action or the intrinsic fear that accompanied it.

“What are you thinking?” Tria asked.

“Nothing,” I lied. I shook my head and tried to clear it of thoughts.

“Yes, you are,” Tria argued. “Tell me.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before looking at her face. For a long moment I didn’t speak but just looked at her. I tried to focus my thoughts on anything but red streaks on the floor, the acrid smell, and the sound of my own screaming in my ears.

Tria’s eyes bored into me, but as she touched my cheek, her eyes softened. I couldn’t help but think about all those songs where people claimed they could see into each other’s souls. I figured as long as she was looking at it, I might as well bare it.

“Every time I think about…about it…” I paused and collected myself. My fingers tensed over her belly for a moment before I spoke again. “I see you…and blood. I can’t make it stop.”

Her fingers traced the edge of my jaw.

“I’m fine, Liam. Everything is going to be just fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I believe it.”

“Not the same.” I looked away from her and buried my face in her shoulder.

She used her hand to tilt my head back to look at her.

“What can I do?” she asked. “What can I do to make this better for you?”

I shrugged. If I had any idea, I’d definitely tell her.

She blew a breath out her nose and scrunched her eyebrows together as her fingers tickled my cheek.

“Should we get married now?” she suddenly asked.

“Now?” I repeated.

“I mean today,” she said. “Then I could go to the doctor on your insurance. Do you think that might make you feel better? Then we could have an ultrasound, and you could see that everything was okay.”

I stared at her long enough to determine she wasn’t joking.

“It might,” I admitted.

“Well, let’s do it, then.”

*****

Twelve minutes.

That’s how long it took between the time we walked into the judge’s office and the time he handed us a signed certificate of marriage to take down to the clerk’s office for filing.

“Smile!” Chelsea’s camera flashed in my eyes.

“Come on!” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Will you cut it out?”

“It’s your wedding day,” she said. “There have to be a few pictures.”

“I’m in jeans, for Christ’s sake.”

“Well, Tria looks lovely, even if you need a haircut,” Chelsea said as she reached up and rubbed my head.

“You do need a haircut,” Tria agreed.

She smiled at me, and for a brief moment, everything was absolutely perfect.

Tria did look beautiful, just as Chelsea said. She was all decked out in a deep blue blouse and faded jeans that she claimed were getting too tight, and she couldn’t have been lovelier even if she had been in white satin or whatever. Even through the near shock of realizing what we had just done, I couldn’t stop looking at her.

People always say when a woman is pregnant, it makes her glow, and in the summer sunshine, Tria did just that. When she turned her smile on me, I felt like the light radiated from her and enveloped me in its warmth.

I reached out and wrapped an arm around her to pull her close. Still focusing on that smile, I kissed her softly, there on the courthouse steps, and Chelsea continued to snap pictures.

“Shall we go to dinner and celebrate?” Michael asked.

I glanced at him with a raised brow.

“I haven’t even gotten my first paycheck,” I reminded him. “Not until next Friday.”

“My treat,” Michael said. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

“You’ve done enough,” I said. I grabbed Tria’s hand and started toward the car.

“Liam!” Tria whispered harshly.

“What?”

“Stop being like that!”

“Like what?” I asked.

“You know what,” she insisted. “Michael wants to take us out to celebrate, and you won’t let him. He looks so disappointed!”

I looked away as I filled my lungs with air. She was right about one thing—I didn’t want to let him do it. I didn’t want him buying us dinner, even if he did have a legitimate reason.

Before I could open my mouth, I glanced at the faces staring at me, practically daring me to say no. I rolled my eyes again.

“Fine,” I said. I turned back toward Michael, who wrapped his arm around his wife. “Nowhere expensive.”

Michael beamed.

“Of course not,” he replied, and he ushered us all to the car.

True to his word, he took us to a reasonably modest, but still elegant, little tapas place. Tria had never eaten a meal made of appetizers before, and it was fun to watch her try to figure out what was going on. We toasted with a bottle of sparkling grape juice, and Tria giggled at the bubbles in her nose.

Mostly it was good to just watch her, which is what I did pretty much the whole time. As long as my eyes were on her, the knot in my stomach loosened up a little. It was when she excused herself to the bathroom and didn’t come back after thirty seconds that I started to lose it. Chelsea went to check on her, and I hovered just outside.