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She claws at my chest to get space and inhales sharply to get air. I move back an inch and try to catch my own breath at the expression on her face. She’s beaming. Even through tears, she’s glowing so bright, I swallow hard to control the emotions spreading through me.
“You like,” I say more as a statement.
She tries to regain her composure, nodding until the tears stop flowing. “It’s incredible.”
“You’re incredible.”
“You have to stop this from happening to me. I can’t be this soft, squishy, weepy girl. Make it stop.”
“Never.” I move my lips over hers.
“You know you’re still inside me right? I can cut you off if you don’t agree to fix me.”
“I’m well aware I’m inside you.”
“Fix me.”
“Why would I fix perfection?”
This brings a fresh round of sniffles, and she nuzzles into my neck. “You’re going to have a hell of a time topping this,” she teases, her voice hoarse and thick with emotion.
“Dare accepted.”
Chapter 17
Claire
“I’m going to kill you both if you don’t stop!” I throw a wad of paper napkins at Grace.
“I can’t help it! It’s huge, and gorgeous, and taking every prism of light from this patio to blind people.” She falls back dramatically, her now huge belly bobbing.
Bizzy doesn’t notice, keeping her gaze on my hand in front of her. “He did well.”
“Meh, it’ll do for my first husband,” I joke, trying to take the awe out of the air. “Grandpa Roy texted that he’s seen better.”
Grace bursts out laughing, Bizzy joining in at my joke as I take a few more seconds to enjoy looking at my ring. Brilliant, incredible—astounding, it’s all of it. But to me, it’s more than I can describe. My girlfriends know this.
“So, we’re all set? You picked your styles in the same shade of teal?”
They nod, still giggling.
“Champagne shoes?”
They nod again.
“Brinley and Brayden will be okay?”
They nod before I finish the question, and I know I’ve been beaten.
“My mom already called you.” I surmise.
“Of course, she did!” Bizzy squeals, doubling over. “And Maria, and Sharon… And get this—Grandpa Roy has someone close to the Christleys making him a specialized tux!”
It’s my turn to fall back in my chair, the last hour wasted on these two. Apparently, after my call to my mom Sunday evening, at Mathis’s insistence, she was already busy talking to people. She was pissed we got ‘officially engaged’ on Saturday morning, and I didn’t inform her right away. Then she took it upon herself to herd the crowd.
“Neither of you wanted to tell me, while I went through this spiel,” I motion to the wedding notebook Mom created for me, “that you already knew everything?”
“Hell no, you needed to tell us yourself.” Bizzy straightens, her eyes dancing. “We’d never take that away from you.”
