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“Bye, Nora.”
“You three ready?” Marks asks.
“York, you have the rings, right?” I ask.
“Of course I have the rings.”
I let out a slow, deep breath, hand York my phone, and smooth my hand over my dress. “Let’s do this.”
Getting out of the car in front of the marriage license bureau with the printed application already filled out and all the documentation needed in an envelope, I can’t help but feel like I’m once again demanding something from John Paul that he’s not ready for.
“You’re not allowed to overthink this.” Marks hooks his arm through mine from one side.
Danny takes the other. “He’s waiting inside, Whit.”
I glance over my shoulder at York, and she mouths, Smile.
I can’t smile, not feeling this way. “We have time for a drink?”
“After you become Mrs. Pope,” Marks says, opening the door.
I see John Paul immediately. He looks amazing in his black suit, holding white lilies, the stems wrapped in thick white ribbon, as he walks toward me, looking me over.
Once he’s at my side, Marks and Danny release me, and Pope hooks his arm through mine.
“You’re stunning.”
“You look pretty good yourself.” He starts to say something, and I cut him off. “Pope, I’m not gonna stomp my foot and?—”
“Whitley Mae.” He smiles, and it’s the kind that makes my knees wobble. “You’re not making me do something I don’t want to do today any more than you did back then. And we’re not doing this back-and-forth thing anymore either. We’re two adults who know nearly everything about each other. We’ve been friends for decades, and we’re going to get married. Married.” He smiles. “We’ll be the best parents any kid could ever want.”
Unable to speak because I know I’ll cry, I nod.
“I get to kiss those lips today, Whit.” His tongue swipes across his own, wetting them. “And after I do that, after my lips and tongue enter the picture, the only thing you’ll ever wonder is when it’s gonna happen again.”
I open my mouth to remind him this marriage is for the purpose of our—my … well, for Nora.
“Number twenty-two,” comes over the speaker.
John Paul holds up a ticket, blue eyes so bright that they’re sparkling, “That’s us.”
Of course it is.
With our license in hand, we walk outside, and he holds up the envelope and chuckles.
“Two weeks home, and I’ve already got you walking to the altar.” He nods down the street. “Well, a gazebo. Based on that alone, it should only take a month or less to talk you into letting me plant baby number two inside your?—”
I smack him with the flowers. “We’re doing this for Nora.”
His lips twitch up. “Of course we are, and we’ll be doing each other so she can have the siblings we didn’t.”
“Um, not part of the deal.”
“Fine, then I’ll just speak for myself. I’ll be doing you. You can just lie there.”
When I go to whack him with the flowers again, he catches them and wraps his hand around mine gently.
“You know the significance in the flowers I chose?”
