“Good, because I’ll be doing it until I take my last breath.” He stands and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear.
“I want to take care of you too.” I wrap my arms around his neck, plastering myself to him. Since he found me, I haven’t let him get more than a few feet away. I bet if someone asked him he’d say he’s the one that hasn’t let me more than a few feet away.
With everything that happened, I was a bit surprised they hadn’t made Curt go down to the police station or something, but they let him go with me. He and his friends must know a lot of people in high places. I also think Gracie’s husband had a big hand in all of it. Even after everything that went down, she still had a smile on her face—one that worked wonders on her husband. He’d been ready to end all the Shapoval men, but she’d calmed him with a mere touch. I’m noticing I have that same ability with Curt.
“You take care of me by being with me.” He leans down, taking my lips in a long kiss. I moan into his mouth, trying to climb his giant body until a throat clears, breaking us from the moment.
“Judge Prescott is here,” Boone says.
My stomach tightens with worry. I know Curt shot that man while saving us, but still. They don’t know if he’s going to make it, but the FBI agents told us it didn’t matter either way. Curt was cleared of any wrongdoing.
“No one is going to separate us. I think I’ve proven that to you,” Curt tells me, sensing my worry. He’s right, and I need to let that go.
“Okay.” I rest my head on his chest, believing him.
“Did you get the paperwork done?” Curt asks his brother.
“This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve got you covered.” Boone holds up a little box, and it takes me a second to realize it’s a ring box. He tosses it towards Curt, who catches it easily.
“Thanks, we’ll be right out.” Boone nods, stepping back and letting the door fall closed.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re getting married. We can plan a better wedding later, but I need this now.” He opens the box and pulls out the ring. He doesn't wait for me to hold my hand up for him as he grabs it in his own and pushes the giant rock onto my finger.
“This might weigh more than me,” I laugh, even as tears are forming in my eyes.
“Give me some time and I’ll change that.”
“Curt!” I giggle. “You’re not asking?”
“I told you that—”
“I know what you told me. I remember everything you say and do, Curt. I can’t help it because I’m a bit obsessed with you and madly in love. I think I’d agree to do anything for you. Except to share you.”
“I only want you. It’s you or no one for me, angel. You’ll be the only woman I’ll ever love.”
“Curt.” Tears slip down my cheeks as I look into his eyes. “I don’t need a big wedding. I just want to get married to you and call you my husband.”
“Say it again. Tell me you love me,” he demands.
“I love you, Curt.”
“Love you too, Demi.” He leans down to kiss me, but the door swings open again.
“Save it for the vows! The judge is waiting in the chapel,” Phoebe shouts.
“We’ve got a wedding to get to,” Val says from behind her with a white dress in her hands. Gracie is with her too, and I can see their husbands are looming in the background.
No, I don’t think I’ll ever need another wedding. This one is going to be perfect.
Epilogue
CURT
Thirteen Years Later…
“Stop being dramatic,” Demi says as she comes up behind me. I feel her small hands go around my waist and rest on my stomach.
“I don’t like it.” I scowl outside the window at the group of kids sitting around the firepit.
“It’s an innocent bonfire and s’mores night. Don’t go all crazy dad mode on her.”
“That’s not what I do.” I keep on scowling, and Demi’s silence is telling. “It’s not.” I try to defend myself but it’s no use. Letting out a long sigh, I turn away from the window. “Fine, I won’t stare at them, but I’ll still be dramatic.”
Our oldest daughter is outside with some of her friends having a bonfire and hanging out. When she asked, I said yes without even thinking about who she might be inviting. When I saw Donovan pull up and drop off the boys, I started to get suspicious.
“I thought they were all friends.” I glance over my shoulder, but Demi pats me on my chest to pull my attention away from it.
“They are.” She looks up at me like she’s talking to a five-year-old. “But she’s at that age where boys are finally cute and not gross.” Demi shrugs and takes me by the hand. “And why wouldn’t she fall in love with one of the Combs kids? They’re our best friends, and they’ve been inseparable since diapers.”