Hitched(47)

“You have your own slide, George,” I say. “Don’t torment Chewpaca. Don’t you need to be home? Go home for popcorn? Or supper? Something?”

He tilts his head at me, and a minute later, he waddles back toward the road.

“He keeps stealing the baby goats’ veggie treats,” Hope tells me with a nod at the raccoon as the preschoolers load up on their bus, giggling and making animal noises, making me think the field trip was a rousing success. Clint’s still standing guard, but he hasn’t disturbed the flow of the day. Sure, he made the teacher’s aide sniffle a little just by looking at her, but the kids climbed him like a statue.

“I think he’s taking presents to Sticky Fingers and the babies,” Hope adds.

“He’s a ladies’ raccoon, isn’t he?”

She laughs. “He’s a one-lady raccoon, and Sticky Fingers has him wrapped around her fluffy tail. You hungry? I’ve got a frozen lasagna I can throw in the oven. Should be ready for dinner in about an hour.”

“I have dinner plans for us,” I tell her.

She lifts a brow. “Oh, you do, do you?”

“We’re going to have a ton of food at the bachelor party.”

Her brows inch even higher. “That’s dinner plans for you.”

“No, for both of us. It’s a bachelor party poker game at my folks’ house. Cassie and Olivia are coming. Probably George too. We can bring Chewpaca. If you think he might want to celebrate with us.”

She blinks once, then twice, and then throws her arms around me. “That would actually be amazing,” she says. “I know I said Kyle wouldn’t steal Chewpaca, but after today I’m not so sure. I talked to Mr. Ashford earlier, and he verified that since there’s a dispute over which of us was married first, there’s no legal precedent to rehome him without official paperwork, but…I think Kyle’s getting desperate for closure.”

I squeeze her tight. “Then Chewy comes with us tonight. I won’t let anything happen to him. I promise.”

Two other iron vices circle us, lifting us both off the ground. “I won’t let anything happen to him either,” Clint says. “Or you two. We’re going to have the best bachelor party ever.”





Nineteen





Hope





* * *



I’m falling in love with my husband.

Or maybe I’ve always been in love with him, and I’ve just finally stopped fighting it.

Whichever it is, I should probably stop. Or start.

Stop falling or start fighting.

Instead, I push all the stressful thoughts to the back of my head and put on my cutest sundress—the soft blue one with the crisscross top that makes my modest chest look like something pretty special—strappy sandals, and earrings. Honest to god earrings, that I have to dig out of the back of my office junk drawer, where I tossed them in the middle of a work emergency after Jace and Olivia’s wedding, which was the last time I was anything close to dressed-up.

But the look on Blake’s face as I meet him in the kitchen after our separate showers is more than worth the effort.

His eyes go wide and his lips part, but no words come out for a long time until finally he breathes out a soft, “Wow,” that sends tingles racing across my skin and a smile bursting across my face.

“I can be a girl when I want to be,” I say, fingers threading together in front of me as I fight the urge to reach for him. He also looks delicious, good enough to eat in a white button-up rolled at the sleeves and a pair of crisp khaki shorts. “You ready?”

“I’d rather stay here and get you out of that dress,” he says. “But yeah. We should probably go. Clint texted and it sounds like everyone else is already there, getting their pre-game on. He’s trying to save us a couple of his signature carne asada tacos, but isn’t making any promises at this point.”

I take the hand he holds out, but instead of starting for the door he squeezes my palm. “You okay with this? I was thinking in the shower and started worrying a party celebrating our marriage might be more than you’re up for after last night and this morning.”

I shake my head. “Maybe it should be. But I’m excited to see everyone. And when the time comes to tell them the whole story, I truly think they’ll understand. Is that na?ve of me?”

“And what if the time never comes?” he asks, drawing me into his arms, making my pulse spike hard enough that I cast a worried glance overhead.

But the kitchen lights don’t so much as flicker. Despite the drama of the morning and the pleasant stress of having twelve little ones to keep safe in my often-chaotic animal environment, today’s been one of the calmest energy-field days in recent memory, making me think Olivia was right about sex working wonders for releasing excess electro-magnetic whatever.

Of course, fewer broken toasters isn’t a reason to make a man promises you’re not sure you can keep, but there’s so much more to Blake than that.

More to us.

So I say, “Can we take it one day at a time? At least for a little while? I hear that’s a thing that works for a lot of people.”

He beams, like I’ve given him so much more than the sliver of a promise. “Sounds good. Especially if one day at a time leads to one night at a time.” He steps closer, gathering me against him as he tips his head closer. “No pressure at all, but I would really love to make you come for me again when we get home.”