by Sheila Kell
Jesse leaned off the door and strode to him. He reached up and straightened Blake’s tie. “We’re happy for you. You’ve been alone too long.”
Around his son, he saw nods throughout the group sprawled on the bed or leaning against the walls, all dressed in the best they’d brought for the trip. All seven of them—Jake and Trent included—would stand up for him today, and he didn’t care that they didn’t match or that they all weren’t wearing sports coats. They were his sons, and they were here with him at one of the most monumental times of his life—their births being first.
A knock sounded at the door. “Pastor Gary is here.”
True nerves skittered along his spine. While there was nothing to be nervous about, it didn’t stop the feeling. Maybe he’d misinterpreted and it was anxiety. He liked that better, because he couldn’t marry her fast enough.
Thank goodness the church had agreed to marry them without the prolonged counseling they generally required. Elizabeth wanted to be married by the church and he wanted to be married as quickly as possible, so they’d passed the test and were able to expedite their wedding.
The flower garden on the grounds of the Oxford home had been their choice. Elizabeth had made sure to ask Emily’s permission to use it. She’d also offered to move them out of the master bedroom, but his daughter had stated that bedroom belonged to her father and his wife.
How had he gotten so lucky with her too? Especially when his boys were such hellions growing up and she’d tried to follow them everywhere. Thank goodness for Trent as he’d kept her out of trouble.
Outside, he ran his finger between his collar and neck, feeling constricted. He’d brought and worn his favorite gray suit—the one he’d worn when he met her—and a gray and burgundy tie to wear in case she’d said yes and they could marry right away. In preparing for the trip, he’d told her to bring a dressy outfit or he’d feared she’d have had to have a shopping trip before they tied the knot.
It’d been bad enough he’d had to wait for her best friend, Crystal, to fly in as her maid of honor. It’d touched his heart when she’d asked his daughter and daughters-in-law to also stand up with her. After a brief discussion about the children, Amber and Reagan were selected as flower girls. Megan and Kelly thanked Elizabeth for the offer but volunteered to sit and take care of Ashley, Alexander, and the girls during the ceremony because, at this point, their only attendees were Jason, Mary, and Henry. Everyone else was in the ceremony.
He shook his head at the absurdity of it. Yet he wouldn’t have picked one of his sons over the other for the honor of being best man. They did play rock-paper-scissors—several times actually—to see who would sign the marriage license as a witness though. AJ won, which wasn’t a surprise since he always won when they boys competed against each other. Had they rigged this too? Not that it mattered.
The pastor motioned to Megan who doubled as their music coordinator. She pressed a button and music played through two speakers they’d set up near the arbor the men and the pastor awaited Elizabeth.
First Kate walked toward him, smiling brightly, although he wasn’t sure if the smile was for him or Jesse who stood right beside him. Next Rylee strode toward him, her hands wrapped around the stems of fresh picks from the flower garden. When his little girl started her trek toward him, his gaze misted at her happiness for him. Yeah, she looked straight at him, not her husband.
Crystal came next, and while Blake had never really warmed to her, he didn’t dislike her except she’d tried to convince Elizabeth she needed a shopping day and a separate spa day before this could happen. That was after it’d taken her two days to arrive.
Reagan and Amber came toward him in cute little dresses and baskets Mary had found that she’d filled with rose petals. His heart almost burst with love. Reagan was meticulous in dropping them in a line while Amber dropped handfuls at a time wherever they landed.
When the girls approached them, he knelt—knees cracking and all—and kissed each on the cheek before sending them over to Megan.
Not that he didn’t love seeing everyone else, but he wanted to see his future wife. He could hardly wait until he dropped the term future from it.
Megan made an adjustment with the music and everyone refocused their gaze to the back of the house. His breath caught at the vision gliding toward them. In a light blue dress and wearing her hair pulled up with flowers woven into the tresses, this woman knocked his socks off all over again with her beauty and grace. His love for her knew no bounds.
Walking toward her, to the gasps of the women and chuckles of the men, he met her halfway down their makeshift aisle and stopped. They stared at each other for a moment. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed.
Her smile lit her face. “Thank you.”
As if suddenly realizing himself, he stepped beside her, turned around toward the laughing crowd and offered his arm. “How about we get married?”
Sheila Kell writes smokin’ hot romance and intrigue. She secretly laughs when her mother, in that stern voice, calls it, “nasty.” As a self-proclaimed caffeine addict nestled in north Mississippi with three cats, she wears her pajamas most of the day and writes about the romantic men who leave women’s hearts pounding with a happily ever after built on a memorable, adrenaline-pumping story. When she isn’t writing, she can be found visiting her family, dreaming of an editor who agrees her work is perfect, or watching cartoons.
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