“We’re going to be so happy, Taryn,” he says before pulling out of me slowly. I stifle the sob that’s threatening to break free. Damn pregnancy has me feeling shit and I don’t like it.
He may think we’ll be happy now, but will he still feel that once he knows the real me?
Chapter Eight
Kyle
She’s quiet. Too quiet after we are dressed again.
“I had a purse,” she says looking around frantically for it.
“It’s out in the office. I’ll get it.” I rush out and grab the purse. Peggy still isn’t back from lunch, but man did that seem like she should be. I glance at the clock. The forty-five minutes I spent inside of her wasn’t long enough.
“We need to talk, Beck. Now, before it’s too late,” she says forlornly. I don’t like the way that sounds at all.
“Talk about what?” I say, helping her into a chair in front of my desk. I take the one next to it so I can constantly touch her, assuring myself that she’s real.
“Two things really, two things that may change how you feel about me,” she says looking down at her clasped hands. She’s squeezing them so hard, they are turning red. I put my larger hand over both of hers and pry them apart, taking one of them and holding in my own hand.
“Tell whichever one is easier for you first, though nothing you can say will make me not love you,” I say, trying to assure her of that fact. Nothing, not even murder, would make me change my mind or my heart.
“Five months ago, I was found guilty of check fraud. I didn’t do it, but I was there. That’s why I’m here today. I’m making my fourth payment on the restitution.” While that’s not ideal and could be seen as a conflict of interest, I am not hearing anything too terrible.
“So, we’ll have Cora take your payments. No harm no foul there. What’s the hard part?”
“What?”
“Was that the easy one?”
“Oh, yeah. I have a debilitating disorder that seems to be better when I’m with you,” she says.
“Which disorder?” I ask.
“Social Anxiety, but I also have a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder where I have no compulsions.”
“Pure-O?” I say, letting her know I understand what she’s talking about.
“How’d you know that?”
“My mom is a psychologist. It was in a coffee table book I read when I was bored.”
“Wow. That’s lucky, I guess.”
“Not luck, but fate. None of that stuff matters, Taryn. You were made for me.” There is no other man on the planet who could love her the way I do, the way she needs to be.
“What happens when I obsess over stupid things like being judged in public, which just makes my anxiety so much worse, and I can’t get out of bed?”
“Then, I’ll get into bed with you. Nothing you could say or do would ever make me stop loving you. In fact, let’s get married right now. Let’s start our lives together,” I tell her.
“What?” she asks. Everything is moving in fast forward, but can you blame me? It’s been paused for five months.
“All I want to do is be your husband. I feel the need to take care of you, love you, all the rest of my days. Can you do that? Can you leap without thinking too much about it?”
“Yes,” she says jumping up from her chair. “I’m only impulsive around you, you know?”
“As it should be,” I tell her before kissing her.
Ten short minutes later we are standing in Judge Allenson’s chambers after we ran across the street to purchase some rings.
“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you in front of me again, Ms. Roberts”
“Oh, your honor. I’m not in trouble this time, I swear,” Taryn says. She looks like she’s holding back a smile, unsure if he’s joking or not.
“Very well,” he says smiling. “My clerk says you two want to get married?” We nod. “Alright, how do you want me to do this?”
“We don’t have a preference, Dale.” I figure since he cleans up at our weekly poker game, I can call him by his name.
“Alright. Mavis and Candy will be your witness. Let’s begin.”
“I’m nervous,” Taryn says squeezing my hand.
“I’m right here, baby,” I tell her.
“Do you Taryn Roberts, take Kyle Beckner to be your lawfully wedded husband, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” she answers.
“Do you Kyle Beckner, take Taryn Roberts to be your lawfully wedded wife, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” I echo.
“Very well. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may exchange rings and kiss your bride.”