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Taking me and everyone by surprise, Koen leans forward and kisses me.
The minister clears his throat.
Koen returns to his space, rubbing the lip gloss from his mouth. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait.”
Our family laughs.
It’s a short and sweet ceremony. I remember my vows. And Price gets Scrot to bring us the rings on cue in a velvet box attached to his collar.
I fight the tears as Koen slides the ring onto my hand. And I lose the fight when I slide the ring onto his finger, and the minister pronounces us husband and wife.
“Now… you may kiss your bride.”
“Forever, I will kiss my bride,” Koen whispers before we kiss.
His hands gently cup my face, and mine grab his jacket, making a lifelong claim.
He’s mine.
There’s clapping. Kaleb whistles. Both moms wipe their tears. And Scrot barks.
It’s perfect.
Koen interlaces our fingers and walks me to the house and up the stairs to the bedroom.
“We have guests.” I giggle before he kisses me.
“I think there’s something,” he kisses his way down my neck, “in Texas law,” he kisses my shoulder, “that says for a marriage to be legal, it must be consummated within thirty minutes of vows being exchanged.” He drags his mouth back up my neck, grinning the whole way.
I laugh, fingers playing with his wavy hair. “My nieces will be looking for us in a matter of minutes because they know we have to cut the cake before they can have any.”
“Let’s wait several years before having kids.” He laughs. “I want you to myself for a while.”
I … well, I try to laugh, but I can’t.
“Why the look?” He narrows his eyes, fingers teasing the back of my neck.
Pressing my lips together, I shake my head.
His eyes narrow a little more. “Scottie Sikes.”
I fight my grin, loving the sound of my new name. My nose scrunches. “I stopped my birth control the day you proposed to me.”
Koen’s eyebrows climb up his forehead.
“And it’s been a while since I’ve had my period. So, I bought a test and planned on taking it tonight. But now you want to wait, and?—”
“Where’s the test?”
“In the bathroom.”
He pulls me into the bathroom, opening drawers until he finds the box of pregnancy tests. Ripping open the package to one of the sticks, he hands it to me. “Pee.”
I laugh. “Later.”
“Now.” He lifts the toilet lid.
“My dress.”
