Mercy seems to be a bit shy, but she’s not unfriendly. Not at all. And Corina offers up her help with decorations for the simple wedding we’re planning. Mitchell cuts up with his boys, their low, masculine laughter a soothing sound while Isaiah piggybacks Leila around the yard.
As I lean back into Connor’s arms and chime in on some of the conversations, I feel...comfortable. Accepted.
“Hold me,” a little voice says. Looking down, I see Leila, arms outstretched and halfway swaying on her feet. Is she talking to...me? When she frowns at me and wiggles her sticky, marshmallow-coated fingers in an impatient demand, I realize she is. Cautiously picking her up, I place her in my lap, but she quickly scrambles around so she can rest her head on my chest.
With a little sigh, she closes her eyes and, within the next thirty seconds—no joke—she’s out like a light. The small, warm weight of her unexpectedly sends a rush of motherly hormones flooding through me, and I comb her messy curls away from her forehead as she sleeps.
A weight of another kind rests on me, and I look up to see Connor staring at the two of us with a smoldering heat in his eyes, a heat that burns hotter than the crackling fire in front of us. He runs his eyes over the sleeping bundle on my chest before leaning over to kiss me, and then I only have one thought running through my head.
Family.
This is what family should be like.
Chapter sixteen
Connor
Atlonglast,ourwedding day arrives. It’s a cold one, but tall heaters radiate their warmth into the small wedding tent. And with the string lights hung in loops around the perimeter, it’s downright fucking cozy in here. Just big enough for our loved ones to watch us get married. Rosanna told me about her family—goddamn pricks, all of them—and I’m fucking glad she doesn’t talk to them anymore. They don’t deserve her.
I sneak up behind Mom as she fusses with a strand of fairy lights on the wedding arch—the one I made for Amos and Mercy—muttering to herself until it finally cooperates. “There we go.” Straightening, she laughs when she catches sight of my hidden grin. “I swear I’m not getting senile. I was just talking to the lights.”
My lips twist into a smirk at that, and she lightly slaps my chest. “Don’t even say it, Connor. Don’t even start with me.” Ever a mother, her fingers straighten my tie and smooth the collar of my white shirt beneath my champagne-colored vest that matches my pants. There was no way I could have fit my shoulders in a monkey suit without getting it altered, and there just wasn’t enough time for that.
Mom’s eyes get a little watery as she looks up at me. “My baby boy. Tell me, Connor—do you love her?”
“More than anything in the world.” That came out rougher than I intended. “All three of them.”
“What about the father?” She slowly forms the words. “He’s not going to...”
My family knows that I’ve claimed the twins, but I can’t blame her for wanting reassurance. “I’m the only dad they’re going to know. But the sperm donor won’t be a problem.” Resolve hardens my voice and squares my shoulders. He’d better not be a fucking problem if he wants to keep his pitiful little acorns.
“And does she love you?” An innocent question, yet astoundingly heavy for its mere five syllables.
“She will.” That sounds ominous. Better lighten it up, because it’s my wedding day, after all. A joyous occasion. “Because what woman in her right mind could resist my charm?” I shoot Mom a look that says I’m up to no good as I take a step closer.
“Connor Mackenzie Shay...what are you doing?” My mother narrows her eyes at me just before I pounce. Too late.A shriek leaves her mouth as I twirl with her to the soft, romantic music playing from the speakers. “Don’t you wrinkle my dress!”
“See?” My grin stretches wide. “Even my own mother can’t help but to love me.”
“Put me down!” Her laughter makes Amos shake his head in amusement from a few chairs away. “I’ve got to check on Rosanna and make sure Leila has her rose petals.”
I put my short little mother down and kiss her cheek. “Love you, Momma. Now, go get my bride. I’m getting impatient.”
Amos pounds my back in congratulations as we watch Mom through the clear sides of the tent. “Baby brother. Look at you with hair on your head and getting married. Never thought the day would come.”
“Me, either,” I wryly admit, running a hand over my dark hair that’s just sprouting out. Not as long as I want it, but there’s just enough for my kitten to run her fingers through when we make love. “But it’s here, and she’s mine. All mine.” Thoughts of our wedding night stir my cock, and I have to fight my reaction. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to be pointing due north as I say my vows to her, now would it?
The legal ones, that is. Not the Shay vow. “She doesn’t know our tradition yet. And she can’t. Not until after she has the babies, because I can’t have anything jeopardizing her pregnancy. So keep your mouth closed, yeah? And make sure Isaiah doesn’t say anything now that he’s been...enlightened.”
And then I don’t hear anything else he says. Nothing at all, because at that very moment, I see her. My woman. My bride. Everyone else fades away into nothingness as I watch Rosanna make her way across the yard.
It’s time. Amos moves back to his seat, placing his hand in the small of Mercy’s back. The music swells, signaling the start of the wedding. Toto is first to enter the tent, looking dapper with his bowtie collar as he carries our rings in a basket with his teeth. Then comes Leila, a frown scrunching up her face as she throws out the rose petals. “I’m trew?” she asks, hugging the flower basket to herself.
“No, baby. Keep going until the flowers are gone,” my mother gently instructs.
“Again?” Leila pouts.
At her grandmother’s nod, Leila scowls and begrudgingly tosses out more. “Okaaay. But I’m keepin’ fwee of ’em since I’m fwee.” When she’s done, she runs to Mercy with petals—more than three—in clenched fists, begging to be picked up.
