Until Trevor (Until, #2)(60)
“When, or if, you’re ever ready, we will talk about it then.”
“I don’t want to prevent you from having a family.”
“You’re my family, and if you’re all I have for the rest of my days, I will be okay with that.” She starts crying again, this time harder than before. “It will be okay, baby. One day at a time, we will work through this.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere; not without you.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I say back. “Let’s go home.”
“Please.” I walk back out of the cemetery with Liz tucked under my arm. When we reach her car, I look down at her. Her beautiful eyes are puffy and red; she looks exhausted.
“I’m gonna call the boys and have them come get your car to bring it home so you don’t have to drive.”
“I’m okay.”
“I know, but you’re not driving. Get in the truck; I’m going to move your car over to the parking lot.”
“Fine,” she grumbles, making me smile for the first time today.
“Be right back.” I open the truck door, lifting her in, pull her face down to mine, and give her a quick kiss, before slamming the door closed. I jog to her car, slide behind the wheel, pull it into the parking lot, and shove the keys under the seat. I call Nico, asking him if he can have someone drop him off and drive Liz’s car home for me. He agrees immediately; I hang up and jog back across the parking lot to where my truck is parked in front of the cemetery, open the door, and slide in. “How do you feel about taking a nap?” I ask, pulling her across the seat by the waist of her jeans.
“I could use a nap, but I’m supposed to meet the seamstress for my last fitting.” As soon as the words are out, her body stiffens. I can see the wheels in her head turning.
“If you even think for one f*cking minute that we’re not getting married next week, you’re out of your damn mind,” I growl, a little more anger leaking into my words than I wanted, but f*ck that; we’re getting married.
“Are you sure?”
“Fuck yes.” I watch as she chews her lower lip, her eyes coming to mine. “I told you before that one way or another, we’re getting married. Even if I have to drag you down the damn aisle, you will have my last name in a week.”
“Then I need to go have my last fitting.”
“What time?” She looks at the dash, then back to me.
“Six.”
“Alright, we have a few hours. We can go home and relax till then.” I put the truck in drive, flipping a U-turn onto the main road. Once on the road, I pull her under my arm; her head lays against my chest, and the silence of the cab allows me to concentrate on her even breathing, the sound so soothing that my body relaxes, and I just enjoy the feel of her next to me. The entire way home, I think for the first time how easily this could be lost, and how lost I would be without it.
*~*~*
It’s been five days since Liz broke down about having a baby. Five days of wedding planning, lots of laughter, and tons of family. Tomorrow, I marry the woman I will be spending the rest of my life with. This last week has been good for Liz—for the both of us, really. For the first time ever, Liz spoke to her mom about her father’s death. Her mom surprised Liz by telling her that shortly after she and Liz started to rebuild their relationship, she started seeing a counselor to help her work through the grief she was feeling. I was pissed when Liz told me this, mad that she never thought to have her children talk to someone about their own feelings and what they were going through. I wanted to rage about the situation, but logically knew it would do no one any good to have me flip the f*ck out about something that happened years ago.
After Liz talked with her mom, she agreed that it was time to talk to someone about how she’s been feeling, and the fear she lives with every day, thinking that something bad is going to happen to her or someone she loves. I never knew how much she had been holding in until the day of her first session, two days after her breakdown in the cemetery. She called me, asking if I could come get her from the building where her doctor’s practice was. I could hear the tears in her voice when I answered; she sounded so lost. When we got home, she opened up about the conversation she had with her doctor. She said he explained that she had a form of anxiety, and a mild case of PTSD, brought on by the loss of her father and the lack of acceptance from her mother after his death. The doctor explained that with sessions and medication, she would be able to learn how to process what she is feeling in a positive manner, instead of trying to bury it the way she always has. I know that it’s going to be a lot of work for her, but I also know my woman is strong and can handle anything; and if there is ever a point when she thinks she won’t be able to make it, I will pick her up and carry her.
“Baby, seriously, hurry the f*ck up. We’re already late!” I yell down the hall towards the bedroom.
“Hold your damn horses, Trevor!” she yells back, making me smile.
“You really going to make us late to our own rehearsal dinner?”
“If you would stop bugging me, I would be ready already,” she yells back, making me laugh. I walk to the fridge, pull out a beer, pop the top, and look down at Lolly, who is watching me, waiting for the treat she knows I’m going to give her. I lean over the counter, lift the lid on the treat jar, listening to Lolly’s tail as she beats a hole in the floor. “You should at least give her a command when you give her a treat, so she knows why she’s getting it,” Liz says. My head comes up, and my dick becomes instantly hard. My mouth falls open, and my gut clenches at the sight of her. The navy blue all-lace dress is completely form–fitting; the neck is square-cut right above her cleavage, under her collarbones. Her long blonde hair flows over her shoulders and breasts. The sleeves are long, to her wrists, and the hem reaches mid–thigh, drawing attention to her long legs.