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The first trip back, I brought her to a chapel and married her. I couldn’t bear my woman, carrying my wee-one, and not wearing my ring one more day. I refused to call her my girlfriend. The power of the words my wife tasted too sweet on my tongue to delay the savory threat it holds to anyone messing with her.
And oh, she fought me on the quickie wedding, my hellcat. In the end, I promised if she agreed to marry me now, we’d have a big party in a couple of months. This way, she can wear her dream wedding gown from Kleinfeld’s and ogle me in an obscenely expensive suit.
But last week, in regular clothes, and in front of Elvis, Jillian cried during her vows. I cried, too. Her friend Trista showed up with a sign that read:
Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. J. Goode!
“Does this mean you’ve officially forgiven me for hacking your app, Mrs. O’Rourke?” I asked Jillian.
“Yes, Johnny.” A name she loves to tease me with.
The ring on my finger felt odd at first, since I’d never worn one. Not even my prestigious Harvard Law class ring.
My signet ring sits in a box, buried somewhere among my belongings.
But this ring means everything.
“I had to have you,” Jillian groans, digging her cherry-red nails into my back. “This pregnancy is making me insane.”
“My cock makes you insane.” One taste of me and she couldn’t get enough.
And I’ll never get enough of her. We’re rarely not fucking.
I drive deep inside her again until she’s squealing my name, and I make her come.
“Christ, sparkles. You’re gonna kill me.” I unload into her and kiss her sweaty forehead.
“Well, we know you can kill for me,” she jokes.
“For you. Always.” I roll over but pull her against my chest, getting my breathing back.
“Have you ever had sex with anyone on this plane?” She tugs at my nipple, forcing my eyes on her.
“No, sparkles.” I peck her nose before sweeping my tongue down her neck. Stopping at her breasts, which I briefly lick, I smile against her soft belly. There, I plant a kiss to my future wee-one. “I hope you’re a boy in there.”
Our family’s got three girls with one on the way, and two boys.
“Damn right,” Jillian says with a smile, knowing it’s basically a pissing contest now between my brothers. “We’ve got to even things out.”
“That’s why I love you, you get me. You get us, my family.”
As we’re lying together, a text comes in from Lachlan.
Lachlan: Trace and Rhys Quinlan have swept the villa. All clear. Decide how much you want them around when you’re there.
Me: Aye, thank you.
Despite the promises from Nico Scava, we’re not taking chances. If anything, the visibility of our bodyguards shows him we’re always protected.
The plane hits some turbulence, knocking me out of my thoughts. Spooning Jillian from behind, I hold her hand, the gold of my wedding ring clicking against hers.
She tapped our rings together the first time in the elevator after our ceremony. “You and me, forever.”
I find myself often reaching out to connect our ringed fingers, to tap mine against hers, almost like a nervous tick. It’s just to remind myself, she’s right here with me. I haven’t lost her.
Jillian stretches and reaches for her phone after a few buzzes. “Mom says there’re several offers on her house.”
Elena is moving to Astoria, into a house I bought for her. I couldn’t expect Jillian to only have my family around. And with my ma in Ireland, Elena spoils me. I’m her only son-in-law. I come first. And I fucking love that.
