"Up you go." Amos bends and wraps me around him as he carries me through the house and outside. He settles us in the swing chair and wraps a blanket around me, the comforting gesture soothing my body but not my heart. Not yet.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but my birthday makes me even more overwhelmed. I didn't think it would still affect me this way because this one is different with you here, but I was so wrong."
"Don't apologize, baby." He gives me the sweetest kiss ever and touches our foreheads together. "I'm not saying this to make you cry more, but if you want us to see a doctor for fertility treatments, we can do that. I don't care how much it costs. Whatever your decision, I'll support you, but know this—you're more than a womb, Mercy. Your worth isn't dependent on being a mother, regardless of how you become one. And you're right. Those kids are more than a picture on a page with their entire personalities reduced to a few descriptive words. But we need to go about this the right way, and that's standing together no matter what we choose."
Fertility treatments.Would I be setting myself up for heartbreak by reaching for the unreachable? I'm not sure which would make me more disappointed—trying and failing or not trying at all.
Arms tighten around me as asmall chuckle rumblesthrough his chest. "Huh. Just thought of something."
"What?" I sniff against him, breathing in his scent that still sends flutters through my stomach.
"It's a good thing you didn't call the police on me, because if you'd sent me tojail,I wouldn't pass the adoption background check."
The outrageousness of his statement breaks me out of my funk, forcing a reluctant peal of laughter from me. "Oh, Amos... Only a Shay. Only you."
Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed it if someone had told me how drastically my life would change in three short months. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Amos is my world now. Protector of my heart.
Chapter twenty-five
Mercy
Nervousjitterscausemynails to snag my elegantly simple wedding dress. Maybe lace isn't the best fabric to trace imaginary patterns on, but I need something to do with my hands.I don't know why I'm so anxious.
Actually, I do. Although I've become more confident in some things, it's only because Amos brings it out in me. Withdrawing into my inner shell when other people are around is still my instinctive reaction, and I don't think that's ever going to change. But with my protective husband at my side, I don't need to. Any minute now, he'll open the door and take me by the hand, leading us to the exquisite wedding arch Connor carved for us where we'll become one in the eyes of the law.
That's what makes me edgy. Not getting married, no, because I'm more than ready for that. I have no doubts, no second thoughts, no regrets. It's the walk there that's getting to me.SomehowI lose all ability to function correctly when thespotlight'son me. I can already see myself tripping on my own feet like a newborn giraffe in front of everyone, as if I haven't been walking for thirty-some-odd years.
"Mercy?" A tap on the door and then Mitchell's head appears. He and Corina have been such a mom and dad to me these past months and I love them like I would my own parents. "Can I come in?"
"Of course." I smooth my dress around my knees and self-consciously tame the nonexistentflyaways on my high bun. "Is...is Amos coming for me?"
Mitchell speaks, warmth infused in his kind, gray eyes. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, sweetheart. Would you allow me the honor of escorting you on my arm? I know I'm not your father, but it would mean the world to me to walk with you for such a momentous occasion."
Don't cry, Mercy. Don't cry.Furiously blinkingbackthe tears threatening to escape, I manage to get my words out past the knot in my throat. "There's nothing I'd like more."
His offer settles something deep within and brings me inner peace. Was I subconsciously mourning the absence of my father in this pivotal moment of my life? Perhaps. But as I place my hand around this man's strong arm and allow him to guide me from my bedroom, all I feel is a sense of rightness.
At the soft opening strains of music, Mitchell pats my hand with a comforting touch before pushing through the openfrenchdoors to the deck. Then with confident steps, we walk together to where the man who abducted me in the name of love impatiently waits for me underneath the arch.
He barely spares his dad a glance, having eyes only for me as his hands settle low on my hips, fingers brushing the curve of my ass. "Sweet Mercy...you take my breath away."
Butterflies running rampant in my stomach, I duck my head in bashfulness and take in his appearance in return from underneath my eyelashes. He looks sinfully amazing with his hunter green shirt and brown tweed waistcoat. Leather belt loop suspenders with decorative brass O rings run down his wide shoulders and attach to his dark jeans that encase his muscular legs.And to top it all off, he smells so...so...masculinelydecadent.
My nostrils flare as I discreetly inhale as much as I can without being obvious. God, it's like I'm breathing in his very essence and letting it seep through the walls of my lungs to become one with my body.
Amos doesn't let me look down for long, though. His thick finger tilts my chin up so our eyes meet. "Head high, baby, because your beauty is something to be proud of."
A smile slowly spreads his lips as my shoulders square up. "Good girl. Now let's get married."
Our captivated gazes fuse together, the words of the minister fading into white noise as the ceremony commences with his parents, brother, and photographer as witnesses. Time blurs, then the bonds of matrimony tighten even more securely around us with an invisible chain of sweet promise as the minister says, "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
"Mine. All mine," he growls before dominating my mouth, his tongue staking claim. My knees buckle in weakness from the force of his invasion and I grab onto his thick arms for balance. Breaking away, his hot breath heats my ear. "You and me, baby. Soon as everyone leaves, we've got a private appointment. In the bedroom," he adds with a hiked eyebrow.
My heart stutters its next few beats at the dark pledge in his words.I can't wait.He's my man—my husband—and I can't wait to give myself to him as his legally wedded wife. "Would it be rude of us to escape now?"
Before he can answer, his family surrounds us with a flurry of well wishes. "Little sister," comes Connor's carefully supervised hug and gentle kiss to my cheek.
