Southern Devotion (Southern Heart 4)

My bride.

My wife.

I shift my feet, antsy to rush to her, to grab her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her. Instead, I hold strong, clasping my hands together, resting them in front of me. I have to wait, just a few more minutes, if that. A few minutes for a lifetime—it’s a deal I’ll take.

When they make it within reaching distance, I can’t help it. I hold my hand out for her, and she takes it. Her dad just laughs and shakes his head. He knows I love her, everyone does. I’ve never hid the fact from anyone. My eyes are locked on hers, which are bright and smiling. I don’t hear what Gramps says, nothing more than a mumble. Then I hear her dad speak up, but I don’t comprehend any of it. All I see, all I hear is her. It’s her sweet laughter that pulls me out of my trance.

“You ready to do this, handsome?” she asks me.

Looking around, I see her dad on the hay bale next to her mother and all eyes on us.

“Absolutely,” I say, placing my arm around her waist and pulling her close. I kiss her temple, because I can’t not. She’s fucking gorgeous, and my lips need to be against her skin. Just a sample of what the next sixty-plus years are going to hold for us.

I told Gramps to keep things simple. It was another detail she didn’t tell me about, but she did say simple yet elegant, so I thought simple worked in this case.

Traditional vows are said. I slide my ring on her finger, saying, “I do,” and she does the same.

It’s an odd feeling. I’m here, but I’m not. I feel as though we’re floating through time. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s mine. My wife, my future, all mine.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Kentucky, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

I hear the words and step forward slowly. I feel as though I missed most of it, that it’s a fog, but this part I’m not going to miss. Cradling her face, I lower my mouth to hers hovering just over her lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Harris,” I murmur before taking her lips with mine. I trace her lips with my tongue until she opens for me. It’s not until I hear hollering and whistling that I know I’ve taken it too far. Pulling back, I rest my forehead against hers. “We did it, baby.”

“We did it. I love you, husband.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Not that, the other thing.”

She laughs, her smile infectious. “I love you, husband.”

“Fuck, it feels good to hear you say that. I’ll never get tired of hearing it. Never.” I kiss her slowly and deeply. “I love you too, wife.”

I get it. Not that I didn’t before, but now I truly understand why Mike refers to Jamie as his wife every damn chance he gets. It’s liberating. One word shows the world that we’re in this together. That the love we share runs deep.

“Yeah? Sixty or so years?” she asks.

“More. There will never be enough time with you.” With one more quick kiss to her soft plump lips, we turn to face our families. Hands welded together, we hold them in the air as they cheer for our union.

Whitney and McKinley drag us away for pictures. Then our parents and Mike and Jamie join us. They even let Evan and Aaron run the cameras to take pictures of all of the girls together before taking back control and doing the same with the guys.

After photographs, my wife and I climb into the horse-drawn carriage and follow everyone on Gators and four-wheelers to the barn. We have tables set up and the pulled pork and sides, just as my wife suggested. I don’t leave her alone, not for a single second as we eat, dance, and cut the cake. Through all of it, I stay right by her side where I plan to always be.

“Good day?” I ask her as I spin her around the makeshift dance floor in the barn.

“The best day.”

“Everything you dreamed?”

“So much more. You, my husband, are so much more.”

“What’s our next step?”

Looking up at me, her eyes shine. “Babies?” she asks softly.