Auntie gave me away and when I took Ryder’s hand, his wet eyes told me everything I needed to know. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered before we stood at the altar and said our vows.
Ryder slipped a white gold band on my finger and I slipped a black-and-white gold band on his. The day was capped off with a party to end all parties at our new home, until Ryder took me to a hotel for the night before we flew to Maine, leaving our family to clean up.
Sex was, how do you say, mind-blowing? No, that’s really not a good enough description for me. I could not get enough. Bethany’s parents had suggested we put a quarter in a jar every time we had sex during our first year of marriage and we thought it would be fun, so we did. Ryder took it a step further and (in pure Ryder fashion) insisted we put a quarter in for every orgasm he gave me. Even without counting our premarital naughtiness, we quickly graduated to one of those humongous water jugs Ryder had at the bar (yes, he was that good). I guess the tradition is to take a quarter out every time you have sex in your second year of marriage, but we decided we’d just keep adding to it. “Our kid fund,” he called it.
So here we were, getting ready to buckle down for our annual love bubble trip, putting groceries away, and taking a break to get fully naked this time.
“I have an anniversary present for you,” he said as we lay in the bed.
“Really?” I grinned. “I have one for you too.”
“You first.”
“Huh-uh, you first.”
“Same time?” he suggested.
“Okay.” I sat up and slid off the bed, waiting for him to do the same. “Go!”
We made a rush for our bags and grabbed the gifts. I’d wrapped mine intricately with pretty paper and ribbon... he handed me a gift bag from a jewelry store. I didn’t care. It was jewelry, after all. We knelt, facing each other on the bed.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Go.”
We tore into our presents and I opened a leather box to find a diamond anniversary band that matched my engagement ring. I slid it onto my finger just above my other two rings and sighed in pleasure. It was perfect.
“Oh, honey, it’s amazing.” I glanced up at him when he said nothing and scooted toward him so our knees touched. “Are you okay?”
He held up the pregnancy test, his eyes damp. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “Yep. I took four this morning.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
I giggled. “Nope. I’ll call the doctor when we get back and schedule an appointment.”
“Holy shit, Sadie, we’re gonna have a baby!” He let out a hoot and jumped off the bed, pulling me with him and dancing me around the very tiny room.
“I know! I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” He pulled me closer, cupping my cheeks. “I love you, baby. More than anything in the world. Thank you.”
“I love you, too.” I grinned up at him, laying my hand on my still-flat belly. “And this little one’s going to worship the ground you walk on.”
“Nah, he and I’ll save that for you.”
“Girls tend to love their daddies more than their mommies.”
“But boys always love their mamas more.”
“We’ll make sure we have one of each then,” I said.
“Or four of each.”
I giggled. “Let’s start with two and go from there.”
“Sounds good.” He laid his hand over mine. “Are you feeling okay? Any nausea?”
“Not yet. Don’t worry, honey, it’s all good.”
“Okay. Well, we better take it easy this week.”
“Uh, no way, Jose! It’s love bubble time! We’re not taking anything easy... at least in the sex department.”
Ryder chuckled. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Darn tootin’,” I quipped. “I am determined to have enough college money in those darn water jugs for three kids by our fifth wedding anniversary.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yep. You’ve just added fifty cents to the pot.” I nodded to the bed. “Wanna go for a dollar?”
With a roar of laughter, he lifted me off my feet and lowered me onto the bed, our college fund guaranteed to flourish.
Eight-and-a-half months later, Tristan Ryder Carsen arrived with a feisty bellow and his daddy’s blue eyes. Our eight pound, twenty-one-inch miracle couldn’t have been more loved, and we wasted no time adding more to the college fund as we tried for a girl.
Life was weird, considering I was an ex-nun who found herself married to a badass kind of man, but I couldn’t have asked for anything better. I was right where I was supposed to be and I loved it.
Piper Davenport writes from a place of passion and intrigue. Combining elements of romance and suspense with strong modern day heroes and heroines. The Nun-Fiction novels are a spinoff of her celebrated Dogs of Fire Motorcycle Club Series.
Piper also writes as Tracey Jane Jackson, a New York Times bestselling author with over half a million books in print. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband and two boys.
I hope you’ve enjoyed A Nun Walks into a Bar
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A Nun Walks into a Bar (Nun-Fiction Series Book 1) Page 24
