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Chapter Two
Ryan
Adjusting the tie around my neck, I walk through the door of the fancy restaurant, my eyes instantly sweeping the room.
For her.
Jaime.
I spy our daughter, Amelia, first, and smile the moment I see her big toothy grin, as she plays with her cousins. Brielle is there, the oldest of the Summer cousins, and has taken a liking to both Amelia and Stella. I’m glad she has a big family here that she can spend so much time with. My own family is still in New York, but will come down for a visit once or twice a year. We’ve even made the trip north to see them every Thanksgiving since our daughter was born.
When I see my angel is fine, playing with her cousins, my eyes continue their trek. The room is full of family, but it doesn’t take me long to spy my wife. She’s standing over by herself, a drink in her hand and those intoxicating green eyes on me. A smile plays on her lips, even though I know she’s probably pissed as hell at me.
She told me to work on the trellis many times, but I opted to spend my evenings and weekends with my family. I had set aside yesterday and today to finish up the ornate, handmade trellis that her sister Meghan and fiancé Nick will stand under tomorrow to say ‘I do.’ Then, work happened. A roofing emergency that required a young family to vacate their home and stay in a hotel, while I had to rip off the entire thing, clear down to the studs in several spots, to repair years worth of dry rot and decay. It was a bitch of a job, keeping me away late last night until after Amelia had fallen sleep, and most of the day today.
Which is why I had to bust ass tonight to make the damn trellis for tomorrow’s wedding.
And which is also why I won’t complain one bit when my beautiful wife starts her “I told you so’s.”
She follows my movement as I make my way through the crowd toward her. A few people offer me greetings, but I don’t stop to chat. I’m a man on a mission: to kiss my wife.
When she’s standing directly in front of me, a smirk on her face that’s a cross between I told you so and happy to see me, I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my embrace. She goes willingly, the soft, pale blue dress fluttering against my body, and already making me hard. My wife is a fucking knockout, whether she’s dressed up or wearing an old t-shirt and shorts around the house.
“So nice of you to show up,” she fakes annoyance, though I can see more elation in her eyes than aggravation.
“Well, I had nothing else to do tonight,” I reply. “Besides…you.”
She blushes in my arms, gripping the back of my dress shirt with one hand. “Did you get it finished?”
“The last coat of paint is drying now,” I reply, taking her glass in my hand and bringing it to my lips. When the cool champagne hits my throat, I grimace. “That’s not beer.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“That’s okay,” I reply, setting the glass down on the table beside us. “I don’t mind the taste of it…when it’s on your lips.”
Then I move, kissing my wife for the first time since I left for work very early this morning. She tastes sweet, like champagne and fruit, and like Jaime, a flavor I could never get enough of. My tongue teases her lips, begging for entrance, which she obliges immediately. I don’t even care that I’m probably smearing some sort of lip shit all over my face. I’ll wear that shade of pink proudly.
“How was our angel tonight?” I ask, nipping at her bottom lip and threading my hands into her hair.
“She was perfect,” she replies, breathlessly.
“Let’s have another one.” The statement doesn’t surprise me as it rolls off my tongue. It’s not something we’ve discussed much, but definitely something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I want Amelia to have siblings. Lots of them.
“Usually that doesn’t happen right away. They have to cook for, say, nine months,” she quips with a smile against my lips.
“I know, but I’m ready for another. Amelia needs a baby brother or sister,” I tell her honestly.
“She does,” Jaime agrees, hugging me tighter. “She’ll make a great big sister.”
“The best.”
“The closet’s available, if you’re looking to get a jump start on this plan,” I hear in a frail voice just over my shoulder. I can’t help but laugh when our private little moment is broken by her grandparents.
“And you know this how?” I ask. The words are out of my mouth before I can reel them back in.
“Weddings make me horny,” Emma says with a casual shoulder shrug, while Orval just grins.
“TMI, Grandma,” Jaime mumbles, reaching for her champagne glass and finding it empty.
