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“I understand if you need some time,” he hedged. “Considerin’ you’ve been someone else’s wife since you were a teenager.”
His voice changed at the brief mention of Preston. Preston, who had seemingly been released from wherever they had been keeping him. Preston, who I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of since he was strangling me to death.
I assumed he’d made it back to our former home, and I wondered idly how he’d explained the injuries he no doubt left with. How he’d explained my absence.
But I didn’t wonder about that for long. He wasn’t my problem anymore.
I did have a pang in my heart thinking about his parents, who were the closest thing I had to a mother and father. Who I likely would never see again. Who very likely hated me because of whatever lies Preston no doubt spun about me in order to come out the hero in the story.
But I didn’t want a hero.
I certainly didn’t want to learn what my life would be without the villain who saved me from the man everyone thought was a hero.
“I don’t need time,” I declared suddenly. “I want to be your wife.”
He jerked. Literally jerked with emotion. Emotion so visceral it hit his body. Made impact.
“Thank fuck,” he murmured. “I’ve been waitin’ all my life for you, and although I would’ve survived waitin’ a little longer to marry you, I would’ve been an ornery bastard to everyone else. Someone would’ve definitely gotten stabbed.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” I grinned.
We were silent for a while, bathing in the happiness that was infusing the air.
“What do you want for a wedding?” Swiss asked eventually. “I imagine no one asked you that the first time around.”
I let out a chuckle. “No, they did not.”
I didn’t choose the location. The date. The guest list. Or even my dress. Everything was planned around the child growing inside me and the image that Preston’s parents wanted to portray.
It hadn’t bothered me much, people making decisions for me about the ‘most important day in my life’.
It hadn’t felt like that to me.I wasn’t one of those girls who dreamed of her wedding day. Who imagined the dress, the flowers, the groom.
I’d had enough weddings, grooms and marriages to last me a lifetime. My mother had ensured that. In fact, my dream had been to never get married. To never define my identity based on a man. Never have a man responsible for my security, for my happiness.
And look how that turned out.
“I don’t mind what the wedding is,” I answered honestly. “I want you there. The club. Violet, hopefully…” I trailed off, struck with worry about what my daughter would say to the news that I was not only divorced from her father but marrying an outlaw biker she’d never met.
My first instinct was to protect her from that at all costs. And in order to do that, I would either have to lie to her about the wedding, about Swiss, or I would have to delay it indefinitely.
Neither of those options were plausible. Neither were options I could live with.
I’d protected my daughter from enough, lied to her enough. I was no longer willing to sacrifice my happiness in order to do that. That was not a decision she would respect. That’s not the woman I wanted to be.
I hoped, prayed, that my wonderful little girl would be understanding. Would forgive me. I had to trust in that.
I blinked at Swiss who was watching me carefully, as if he were witnessing the wheels turning in my mind.
“The marriage,” I whispered. “That’s what’s most important to me.”
Swiss smiled then lifted himself up in order to lay a soft kiss on my lips. His eyes turned serious. “What about kids? Do you want more?”
I hadn’t been expecting that question nor the grave tone in which it was spoken. Neither of those things should’ve surprised me, though. It was a completely rational and necessary thing to talk about before committing to someone.
But I didn’t think of Swiss as a particularly rational person, or someone to tick off all of the necessary boxes needed before marrying someone.
Though it made sense.
