Shayla       

         “Oh sweetie, you look stunning.”

         My mother’s eyes misted over with tears as she covered her mouth with her hand to hide the way her chin trembled. She wasn’t sad. Those little drops of salt water were happy tears.

         My nose stung and my eyes burned at the look of pure joy on her face. I reached for her and she took my hands, gripping them tightly in hers. She beamed at me, her watery smile never faltering as she told me how proud she was of me.

         My mother and I hadn’t always been this close, and at one time, our relationship was strained to the point we barely spoke. But when my sister passed unexpectedly, I was forced to take a long, hard look at my life. It was the wake up call I needed to finally leave the man who’d done nothing but hold me back. 

         Since moving back home, our bond had only grown stronger. She never pushed for me to settle down or have kids, but as I neared thirty, I was painfully aware that she feared I’d never find true love or start a family of my own. 

         Now I’d done both, and she finally seemed at peace. She wanted to make sure I was happy, fulfilled, and taken care of. I was the only child she had left, and she worried about me, especially when I came home to lick my wounds after a horrible break up with a man who never deserved me in the first place. But the moment Donovan claimed me as his, something in her settled. It was like she knew I’d never face heartache again. She’d never have to wonder if I was safe with him or if he was treating me right. That man practically worshipped the ground I walked on. And today, he would vow to do so for the rest of our lives.

         “It’s almost time. Let’s get your veil on,” my mother said, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes. I nodded, blinking back tears so I didn’t ruin my makeup. I was marrying my best friend and the love of my life today. I had no idea when I decided to seduce my brother-in-law’s much older best friend a couple years ago that we would end up here. All I was looking for was a night of fun and unbridled passion. Instead, I got more than I ever dared to hope for; the man of my dreams and a child I loved more than life itself.

         My mother secured the Irish lace veil to my hair, and I turned to take one final look in the mirror. The corseted bodice of my satin gown accentuated my new, curvier physique. Since giving birth, my hips and breasts were fuller, and my belly was softer. But I didn’t mind. I’d embraced my postpartum body.

         Donovan though… he hadn’t just embraced it. He was obsessed with it. He’d always been quick to offer words of admiration and praise, but since bringing our child into the world, he found me even more irresistible. Every day he told me how beautiful I was, and the hunger in his gaze when I was laid bare before him was incomparable. It was a miracle I hadn’t ended up pregnant again with as insatiable as he was.

         Smoothing my hands over my hips, I smiled to myself, imagining Donovan’s reaction. He would lose his mind when he saw me rocking this white gown as I walked toward him down the aisle ready to pledge my love to him for eternity. Hopefully he behaved himself and kept it PG in front of our friends and family. 

         “Are you ready?” Mom asked, looping her arm through mine.

         “Yes,” I replied without hesitation. I was more than ready to become Donovan’s wife.

         She led me down the hall toward the sanctuary where I found my father pacing in front of the closed wooden doors.

         “Dad,” I said and he halted in his tracks before turning to face me. 

         “Emmie,” he said, using my childhood nickname, his voice thick with emotion, and suddenly I was a little girl again. I stepped into his open arms and breathed in the familiar scent of pine and tobacco as he pulled me into his embrace. “You look beautiful, my girl.”

         “Thank you, Daddy.” He sniffled and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. When I pulled back, he cleared his throat and quickly swiped at his eyes. 

         “Are you sure you want to do this? There’s still time to change your mind. I’ve got my Chevy gassed up and parked just around the corner,” he said, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb, a sly grin tugging up one corner of his lips.

         I shook my head as I fought back a smile. “Uh uh. I’m not going anywhere before I say, ‘I do’.”

         “I didn’t think so,” Dad replied with a chuckle. “But as your father, I’m required to offer you an exit strategy. I’m glad you didn’t take it though. Donovan will do right by you. He adores you and Conor.”

         “Where is the little rascal?” I asked, peering past my father to look for my son. 

         “Right here.” I turned to find Delilah leading my little man by the hand. At just over a year old, he still toddled clumsily like a drunk elephant, stomping and swinging his arms.

         “Mama!” he squealed and released his hold on Delilah. He reached for me, making grabby hands as he stumbled his way toward me. My heart melted at the sight of him in his tiny tuxedo, his soft brown curls slicked back when they were usually a wild mass atop his head.

         “Hi, baby,” I cooed and bent to scoop him up. His little hands framed my face, and he gave me a slobbery kiss. I giggled and tickled his belly before pressing my lips to his plump cheek. “Are you ready to go see Dada?”

         Conor’s eyes lit up and he clapped excitedly. “Dada!” he repeated, his big toothy grin turning my insides to mush. 

         “Can you let Papaw hold you?” I asked. It was time to line up for the processional, and everyone needed to get into position.

         “Papaw,” he repeated, reaching for his favorite person. I endured thirteen hours of labor and at least a dozen stitches to bring him into this world, and all my dad had to do was take him for a ride on his tractor, and suddenly I was no longer number one in my baby boy’s heart.

         My dad propped my son on one hip and looped his other arm through mine just as the music started. Conor wasn’t ready for the role of ring bearer yet, but I still wanted him to be part of the ceremony so he would walk me down the aisle along with my father. 

         Two by two, the wedding party disappeared through the doors. When it was just the three of us, my father leaned over and kissed my cheek.

         “Donovan is a good man. He’ll make you happy,” he said, his eyes shining with hope and sincerity.

         “He already does,” I assured him, just as the wedding march began to play. The doors opened once more, and my gaze immediately landed on my groom. My breath caught and my heart stuttered in my chest at the sight of Donovan in a tux, his hands clasped in front of him, waiting for me at the altar.

         Our gazes locked, and suddenly he was all I could see. It felt like I was floating as I made my way toward him. His eyes never left mine, the emotion swirling in the chocolate depths enough to make chest constrict. He swallowed hard when my father and I reached the steps leading up to the altar. After giving me away, Dad and Conor took their seats next to my mom, and Donovan helped me up the steps. He lifted one hand to my face and cupped my cheek.

         “You look beautiful,” he said, low enough only the officiant and I could hear. “I want to kiss you right now,” he confessed and heat bloomed across my cheeks.

The officiant cleared his throat. “We’re not quite for that part yet,” he said with a chuckle. Donovan’s responding smile was infectious, and I grinned up at him, anticipation fluttering in my belly.

         The ceremony passed by in a blur. We recited our vows and exchanged rings, both our eyes filled with happy tears. Finally, the officiant instructed Donovan to kiss his bride, and he wasted no time stepping into my space and cradling my face in both his hands. He held me like I was a rare and precious jewel. Leaning in, he hesitated for just a moment, his gaze drifting down my face as though he was cataloguing my every feature. When he finally pressed his lips gently to mine, our guests began to clap.

         Then he dropped one arm to my waist, tipping me backward in a classic wedding dip and deepened the kiss. Exuberant cheers erupted around us and hoots and hollers sounded from the groomsmen. Donovan smiled against my lips before standing me upright.

         “I love you, Mrs. Hughes,” he said, punctuating his declaration with another kiss.

         “I love you, too,” I replied, snaking my arms around his neck and reveling in the feel of his body pressed against mine. 

         “I love you more,” he said, brushing a rogue curl from my face.

         “Prove it,” I challenged, unable to resist.

         A genuine smile overtook his handsome face, and contentment filled those dark, soulful eyes before he replied.

         “I plan to spend the rest of my life doing just that.”