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“Ivory,” my grandmother chimes in as we both whip our heads around to give her a look. Her bony fingers turn upward. “I’m just old-fashioned. She’s wearing ivory and the flowers are ivory.”
“Oh, Jesus, Mom.” My mother throws her hands up with an exasperated scoff.
Gran points at her daughter, eyes narrow, brow cinched. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Okay!” I throw my hat in the ring. “This is my wedding and I wore what I wanted and got the flowers I wanted, and I do not give forty winks that I’m knocked up before I signed some paper and had some old man in a robe pronounce that Chance and I are man and wife. Husband and wife, he should have said, but I digress.” Heat boils up from my center, bleeding in splotches over my chest. “Can we just drop it and have fun? There is food and wine, and I shut down my restaurant for this, so let’s go have fun.”
They both stare at me, lips in tight frowns, but their matching eyes sparkle with humor.
A knock at the door thankfully breaks the tense silence. “Come in, whoever you are, please,” I shout, pinching the front of my dress and spinning on my white chef’s clogs, making my gran roll her eyes yet again.
“It’s the rest of the family!” Natalie leads the way, her belly looking ready to pop, with Chance, Tor and Cyrus trailing behind looking like the three grumpy musketeers. “Oh, you are so beautiful, my sister!”
She starts sobbing again, like she did through the entire morning, helping me get ready and then get through the ceremony. I thought Tor was going to tear down the church. He would pay any price and kill anyone to keep his wife from crying, but on this occasion he had to gut it out.
“Baby,” he says, shoving his way past my new husband and Cyrus to get to Natalie. “Stop fucking crying. I can’t take any more.”
He gives her a soft smack on her rear, making her gasp, but it has the intended effect, and her sobs soften to sniffles as he tugs her next to him, securing her with his arm around her shoulders.
“No one cared when I cried,” Chance says, giving Cyrus a shove on his shoulder. “Your brother stood right there next to me, my best man, ignoring my tears.”
Cyrus raises a glass of champagne to his mouth and drains it, setting the empty glass on the edge of my desk, reminding me of the day I walked in to see my oldest brother on his knees in front of his future wife.
I shake the thought away as Chance gathers me in a hug and I slip my arms around his waist, breathing in his spicy scent.
He puts his lips next to my ear as the rest of the group is jabbering away around us, fighting about the color of air or whatever other ridiculous thing they can disagree on.
His voice is a low growl. “My dick is crying too. Cum tears are dripping out, soaking in my boxers. Such a waste. I want you to lick away my tears, wife.”
I swat his shoulder, peeking out from where he has my face against his chest to see my gran shaking her head.
“Behave.”
Cyrus is staring at his phone. More distracted than usual, but after our honeymoon, Mom, Gran and I will put our detectives hats on and come up with what’s been going on with him. He says nothing, but we know better.
“Let’s eat,” Tor says, leading Natalie toward the door. “My wife is hungry. My baby needs nourishment.”
Just as I open my mouth, one of the kitchen staff knocks, poking her head through the door. “We are five minutes from service.” Her eyes dart around the room, then lock on me as she bites her lip.
“Sounds like it’s time,” I say, and Chance lowers his hand to the small of my back as I smile, looking at the biggest of the men in the room, my husband, wearing a black tuxedo jacket with a white shirt, the collar two buttons open now.
We made a deal. He would wear the bow tie for the service, then he could take it off. He’s not a suit and tie guy, and never will be, and that is not a problem for me. I want us to be us. Unique, ourselves. No lies. No hiding things.
He presses his other hand to my belly, eyes closing as the others file out of the office toward the dining room, leaving us alone for a precious moment.
“How do you feel, wife?” Chance has been all over me like white on rice since we found out I was pregnant.
“I feel lucky.”
His lips press warm on the top of my head, his hands holding me from the front and back, and I get that overwhelming sense again of being completely enveloped by this enormous man.
“I’m the lucky one, baby. But I’d be luckier if—” He spins me around as I yelp, walking over to kick the door shut, flipping the deadbolt with a clunk. “If my dick was ten inches inside that sweet honey pot of yours.”
He’s working his cock free as he steps back my way, turning me toward my desk, placing my hands on the surface and bending me into position as I feel the cool air of the room hit the heat between my legs. He shoves my feet apart, and the pressure from his cock finds my ready opening.
“Say, I do,” he grunts as the first thrust takes my breath away.
“I do,” I manage as the air is expelled from my lungs, my husband drawing back then driving the entirety of his length into me in one painful, lovely thrust.
