Page 38 of Hold On


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“Of course, I do.”

He leans over and pulls open the drawer on the nightstand, then rolls back to me with a small wooden box in his hand.

“I was going to wait until tonight and drop down to one knee in front of the fountain out front, so the world could see how much I love you, but I don’t want to wait. I want you to say yes, right now. I need you to marry me, Emmy. I need you to be my wife. I need this ring on your finger right this second.”

He opens the box, and I draw a sharp breath. Inside is a massive ruby and diamond ring that looks like it should belong to an actress or heiress, not the poor farm girl who never had anything. I’m frozen solid, unable to reach out and take it, but Marshall knows what to do. He pulls the ring from the box, reaches down for my left hand and gently pulls it up between us.

“Does that hurt?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Good. Then say yes. Yes, you will marry me. Yes, you will be my wife. Say yes to our forever, my little one. Say yes and make me the happiest man in the world.”

I nod up and down as he slips the ring onto my finger. “Yes. Always and forever, yes.”

MARSHALL

There is no possibility there is a happier man in this world at this moment.

I took her here to Lake Tahoe for a specific reason. It’s one of the places where you can get your marriage license and get married the same day.

That was my plan all along, but I gotta be honest before I asked her to be my wife I was so fucking nervous.

There was no deal I’d ever made that came close to being as important as closing the one with Emmy and getting my last name attached to her.

It’s four a.m. now, and the prospect of sleep is a cosmic joke. The suite is filled wall to wall with ruby red roses, and it looks like there was an earthquake from the way the furniture is toppled over.

I fucked Emmy on every square inch of the suite after we spent the day yesterday getting her a dress and anything and everything she wanted for the little wedding at the chapel I’d already picked out on the bluff overlooking the lake.

We got married in front of a judge, the roses surrounding us and candles flickering everywhere as the sun set over the water. It was perfect. I offered Emmy whatever sort of wedding she wanted, but she wanted just us with no fanfare. Emmy looked more beautiful than ever, her red hair loose around her face and the little gauzy bohemian dress she picked out draping around her curves, making me salivate as I did my best to recite my vows without passing out.

When we get home from our honeymoon, we plan to have a party to celebrate but as far as the actual wedding, we just hope everyone will understand.

Tomorrow we leave for Paris, and from there I’ll take her anywhere she wants to go for a honeymoon that she will remember for the rest of her life. I’ve put all my business deals on hold for a month, much to Connor’s dismay, but Christ, how much more money do I need?

What I need is Emmy’s smile. It’s the most valuable asset in my world.

Emmy lies on my chest, her hand making tiny circles between my pectorals as my heart beats for her. “Promise me,” she whispers, looking up at me with those sweet, green eyes that melt me like butter in a hot pan.

“Promise you what, little one? You know I’ll give you everything, just ask.”

“Promise me we will always be this happy. Promise me we will never take each other for granted.”

“I promise all of that. But you know there will be bad days. There will be hard times. It’s just life. But know this…” I kiss the top of her head as she runs her hand down my body, then gently begins stroking my still hard cock under the covers. “The hard times will make the good times so much sweeter. Nothing will tear us apart, baby. If we have a problem, it’s you and me against the problem, never you and me against each other. Just remember that, and we will be fine. You just have to remember to hold on to us. Hold on to our love and what we have. As long as we hold on to each other, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

Sixteen

Emmy

EPILOGUE

Two years later

“Wife!” I hear Marshall calling from the front porch. “What are you doing? We have to go.”

“Hold on.” I run the brush through my hair as I hear his footsteps coming down the hall.

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