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We looked like we were stepping out for a ball game. Not a wedding.
But it worked for us, I guessed.
“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the judge asked.
“I do,” I confirmed.
I more than do.
“And do you, Dutch Panchek, take Wake to be your…”
I zoned out a bit when Dutch’s wide, scared eyes met mine. She looked terrified as if she was making the biggest decision of her life.
I reached for her hand and brought it to my lips, interrupting the judge when I said quietly, “I’ll always take care of you.”
As in, I’ll take care of you, even at the peril of my own freedom.
Her shoulders slumped as if she read the sincerity in my words and the underlying meaning behind them.
“I do,” Dutch replied softly.
“Then, by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss…”
I was kissing her before he told me I could. Because, like all things in life, I did what I wanted, and paid the consequences later.
Though, there were no consequences here.
“Damn, boss,” I heard Bain say. “There are children present.”
He was right. Bowie was making ‘ewww’ sounds, while my daughter giggled.
God, she was damn cute.
I hadn’t heard or seen that giggle in a very long time.
It made my heart even happier.
“Where to now?” I asked as I tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.
She bit her lip.
Then I heard her stomach growl.
I pulled away while laughing. “Let’s go find something to eat.”
I glared down the table at Dayden—call me Dayd, sir—and wondered if he thought I was born yesterday.
“Dude, chill,” I heard my sister say under her breath. “They’re just holding hands.”
“He’s holding her hand while his is in his lap. Next to his dick,” I corrected her. “I’m not stupid. I know where this is going.”
“This is going in a naturally healthy direction,” I heard Dutch, my wife—holy fuckin’ shit—say. “Imagine this. If they both weren’t supremely comfortable, and felt safe in their environment, if they hadn’t grown and matured into healthy child-adults, then they wouldn’t be able to do this, right here, right now. Just think, could you imagine even a year after it happened?”
Well fuck. She took the wind right out of my sails.
“No,” Danyetta and I said at the same time. “She was catatonic at first,” I said. “I’m talking, she barely would even look me in the eye. God forbid any other man come close to her. Not that I can blame her, but no. I couldn’t imagine this when it was just a year later. She’s done a lot of growing.”
“You did that.” She leaned forward and looked me in the eye for a long moment before reaching for a chip that was in the middle of the table in a fancy little basket. “You made it safe for her. When she knew she was safe, she healed. Same for Dayden. I know that you don’t like it based solely on the fact that you love your daughter, and want what’s best for her, and think that a teenage boy won’t be it… but she’s healthy, Dad. Be happy that she’s making this step at all.”
Well, when she put it like that, she made me feel stupid for being upset about something innocent like hand-holding.
She bumped my shoulder, then shoved three chips in her mouth smothered in queso, salsa, and guacamole.
“I’m fairly sure that you’re supposed to dip those individually.” Bowie looked at Dutch with a horrified expression.
“Says who?” she asked as she did the multi-dipping thing again. “I have my own jar of salsa, queso, and guac. I’m not hurting anybody. And, just sayin’, but live outside the box, Bowie. Look at you with your boring salsa and your boring tortilla rolled up to dip in that queso. There’s no excitement there. All…” She pointed her finger at him and circled it. “Boringness.”
My lips quirked up into a small smile as Danyetta choked on her salsa.
“Damn, Bow.” Aodhan chuckled. “I think she just pulled your card. You gonna let her call you boring like that?”
“I’m not boring,” Bowie declared. “I play baseball.”
“Baseball is boring. Do you know how long baseball games take? Forever. Now football? That’s exciting. Soccer? Even more exciting. Baseball is just a boring game with boring people walking up to hit a boring ball. There’s no blood or fuss. Have you ever watched a rugby match? Those guys go out there and dance the freakin’ Haka. Then pound into each other. It’s not uncommon for them to get head injuries, and cuts that require stitches. Do you know they just go to the sideline, get some glue smeared on their gaping wounds, and then go on about the game as if they didn’t receive an injury that could/would require six stitches? What can you say about baseball that has any excitement in it?”
