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I nod and stare into her eyes. “It’s all about the kid with you, huh?”
“Yep.” She lets her lips pop on the p. “You loved your late wife. Really loved her.”
I freeze. “I did.” I can’t lie about that.
“Does what we have feel the same?”
I shake my head. “Completely different.”
“How?” She stares into my eyes, and I see genuine curiosity there.
“I can’t explain it. I just know that I worry about you when you’re not with me. I think about you all the time. I can’t wait to go to bed with you every night. And when I wake up in the morning with you next to me, everything feels right. So please don’t make it feel wrong by comparing my love for her and my love for you. There is no comparison.”
“I want to put up some pictures of her. For Mitchell.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“And I want to take him to her grave, if he ever has a desire to do so.”
“Okay.”
“And I desperately want to get on top so I can ride you the moment you get home.”
I grin and press my lips against the side of her neck. “I think I can accommodate all your wants.”
“That’s all a woman can ask for. To get all of her needs met, and most of her wants.” She sucks in a breath. “I fell in like with you so fast. I thought it must be wrong, the way it happened.”
“And now what do you think?”
“I think it’s supposed to happen the way it happens, and if I try to apply a timetable to it, I’ll just be left unsatisfied and confused.”
She leans over and kisses me. I speak against her lips. “Can we circle back to you being on top as soon as we get home?”
She kisses me, shushing me effectively. But one thing is certain. She’s the one who is meant for me. Because being in like with her was great, but being in love with her…well, that’s perfect.
40
Abigail
Nine months after Ethan came home from the hospital, I started to find copies of bridal magazines in the little free library box at the lake. Then I found some brochures about choosing the perfect wedding cake. And another about flowers. Ethan made it very clear that he wanted to marry me.
And today, as I sit with Mitchell in the front row of the little church in the middle of Macon Hills, the same church that Ethan went to as a child, I can’t help but think that I’m going to be ready to marry him really soon.
Ethan opens the doors at the back of the church, and his eyes find mine where I’m seated in the front row. He reaches back and guides his mother through the door. She falters, and he reaches out to steady her. Her eyes find Shawn’s where he stands at the front of the church next to the preacher.
Sheila, Ethan’s mom, chose a very simple ceremony. Shawn is wearing a suit instead of a tux, and she’s wearing a simple gown in a blush color. Ethan winks at me as he walks past us, his mother’s arm tucked into his. He delivers her to the front of the church, to Shawn. The man is beaming, and she’s teary-eyed, and I get all misty-eyed too.
When Ethan first met Shawn, I wasn’t sure if Ethan liked him, but he knew his mother had put her life on hold for a very long time, mainly because of him, and he knew he had to support her. So he’d set aside his fears and trusted that his mom knew her own heart. He’s supported her through it all.
Now, he kisses her on the cheek, shakes Shawn’s hand, steps back, and comes to sit next to me. I take his hand as he sits down and find it shaking. “Are you okay?” I whisper, suddenly worried for him.
“My dad would be really happy today,” he whispers as emotion clogs his throat. “So happy.”
I wipe my eyes as the ceremony continues, and Mitchell leans on me throughout the service.
Afterward, all the people come back to the lake, where Mr. Jacobson has prepared a post-wedding barbecue. Tables and chairs are set up, and we put up decorations last night.
The bride and groom arrive right after us, and Shawn holds up Sheila’s hand as they get out of the car. Then he picks her up and swings her around.
