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“Like matching rings or something?” she murmured, her brows lifting.
“Whatever you want,” I said with a nod.
“You have to wear a ring too,” she said, stabbing me in the chest with her index finger. “If I have to wear a ring, you do too so that all those thirsty bitches out there know you’re taken.”
“That’s right. Lay down the law, girl!” Mom cheered.
“Mom!”
“Sorry. Sorry.” I heard Dad chuckle, and I shook my head exasperatedly when Mila giggled.
“I think I like your mom,” she whispered.
“She likes me!”
Mila giggled again, and I decided it didn’t matter as long as she kept laughing so sweetly and her tears dried up. Kissing her belly again, I looked up at her beautiful face. “I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear. I’ll even tattoo your name around my finger.”
The smile on her lips turned down. “My dad isn’t going to let me marry you, Lyric.”
“Let me worry about your dad. All I need is a yes from you.” I cupped her ass, giving each firm globe a squeeze. “Say yes, my Mila. Tell me you’ll marry me and be mine forever.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “But…”
My heart stopped as I waited for her to finish.
“But…only if my dad says he will give me away.”
“Is that all?” I asked, confused. If that was all she wanted before she would marry me, I’d make it happen.
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip for a moment before she nodded. “Yes. If Dad says he will walk me down the aisle, I’ll marry you. But if he won’t…”
“He will,” I gritted out. “I promise. Your father will walk you down that aisle to me, or I’ll die trying.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she grumbled with a pout.
“Um, Lyric?” Aunt Emmie called through the door. “Who did you say Mila’s parents were?”
“I didn’t!” I yelled back and stood. Keeping one arm around Mila’s waist, I pulled the door open. But all eyes were on the driveway where a black Suburban was now parked.
The vehicle was turned off, and a woman who was slightly shorter than Mila with the same gray eyes stepped out of the passenger side. Moments later, Mila’s dad opened the driver’s door and slammed it shut behind him.
I felt Aunt Emmie tense, and Dad stepped in front of her and Mom protectively. My aunt’s green gaze went from Masterson to Mila before turning on me. “You didn’t tell me Mila was related to the MC, Ric.”
“Why does that matter?” I demanded.
“It matters,” she whispered, her face as pale as death.
“Everyone in the house,” Masterson commanded, his black eyes glaring at Dad and then Aunt Emmie. “Now.”
“James,” Mila’s mother admonished. “Cool it, or I’m going to take you home.” Putting on a smile, she held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Willa Masterson, Mila’s mom. You folks must be tired. Why don’t we go in and get some refreshments?”
Mom shook her hand after only a small hesitation. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Layla, Lyric’s mom.”
“I’ll make coffee,” Mila offered. Taking my hand, she tugged me out of the way, letting our parents and Aunt Emmie into the house. “You guys make yourself comfortable in the living room, and Lyric and I will get drinks for everyone.”
“No coffee for you,” I told her as we walked into the kitchen. “You want juice?”
“I want a shot,” she muttered, rubbing a hand across her
