Communion (On My Knees Duet 3)

Tell me that we’re gonna work out. Please, Sky.

He sits up and wraps both arms around me, guiding my forehead to his shoulder. “We’re gonna work out, Rayne babe. You’ll be lucky if you get by without me making you Mr. McDowell.”

I can’t help a grin as I lean back to look up at him. “You want me to take your name?”

He cups the back of my head. “I want you to take my everything, Rayne. And the house is not insurance.” Something flickers through his features, and when he speaks again, his voice has dropped an octave. “It’s if something happens to me.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

He bites on the inside of his cheek, pressing his lips together. He doesn’t have to say it out loud. After blowing out a long breath, though, he does.

“When my dad died, Mom had some trouble getting to their money. Because it was all in his name. Even when she went to sell stuff, it was hard because a lot of it was in his name."

Now it's my turn to reassure him. I frame his face with my hands, and I bring his cheek against mine, closing my eyes to the ray of sunshine seeping through the boat’s small, round window. "You're not gonna die, Sky. If you did, though? The last thing I fucking want is a house. At least one that's not in the clouds."

When he draws away so he can look at my face, I'm surprised to see his eyes welling. "It's messed up," he laughs, "how that makes me a little happy."

"Sadist," I tease, smoothing back his soft hair.

"I guess I didn't really think you would get to be mine." He sounds hoarse; I’m surprised when a single tear spills down his cheek. Then he hugs me hard against him. "Do you remember that time after you got out of the hospital, and I said you might end up a widower or something like that?"

"How could I forget?" I brush my lips over his stubbly jaw. "I remember I said hell yeah, preacher. I would love to be your widower. And I still would. You know that, yeah McD? I would want to be your husband even if the world was ending next week."

His head comes down to my shoulder. I can feel him breathing deeply, and it makes my chest ache for him. "I want to be married.” It’s a whisper. “I want to be wearing my ring,” he says.

He sounds so torn up about it. I give his nape a light squeeze. "I know you do."

"I'm not gonna keep this in the closet, Vance, I swear I'm not."

My hand rubs his back—an automatic motion—and I feel him relax against me. "I know you're not, Luke. I’m not worried." Liar.

"I'm still afraid that you won't want this. When you...see what it's like." He sucks back a big breath.

"You know how much I care if someone calls me the f-word or any other bigot shit?"

He kisses my jaw, and I cup his face with my palm. "Zero. I care fucking zero. Actually that's not true. I care for you. I don't want you to hear that. I'm from Brooklyn, Sky babe. I don't give a shit what anybody says."

"If this turns out to be the wrong thing—"

I cut in, because I know exactly where he’s going. "If it's the wrong thing for us, we'll decide when we know. But I don't think it's gonna be. I think all this stuff with the church is going to be just fine. It'll take some time to settle out, that's all."

He nods, and I can tell there's more he wants to tell me.

"C'mon, dude." I squeeze his shoulder, and then shift so I can pull him into my arms. "Spill the tea. Gimme the goods. What went down? What was your day like? You know I can't stand the too-close-to-your-vest shit. Let me share the burden, buddy."

He laughs softly. "I still love it when you call me that."

"Yeah?" I rub his arm and pull him closer.

"I thought it was kind of weird at first. But it's so Vance. I fucking love it."

"Maybe I should switch to hubby."

"Can you change to that now?" His red-rimmed eyes look so damn happy.

I kiss his lips. "Of course I can."

"Would you wear your ring tomorrow?" he asks.

"Sure will. Only if you're positive you’re ready, though."

"I’ll wear mine, too. It won't make the news yet, not till we go by the courthouse. But I can't go in there another day without it. It feels...wrong. Dishonest.” His eyes widen. “Let's go to the courthouse tomorrow.”

"I'm not in a hurry, McD. I've got for-fucking-ever. Also, you never did answer my question. About your day."

He shuts his eyes. "I know."

He tucks up against me, and I hold him while I wait for him to unwind. Finally, when he's resting heavy against me and I'm stroking his back, he says, "It was kind of awful."