Communion (On My Knees Duet 3)

He looks all heart-eyed. I have to work to keep from grinning at him like an idiot.

I hold her head up with my hand, looking into her brown eyes. "Hi, baby. What do you want to be named?" I look at V as we reach the couch. "You think we're allowed to name her?"

"I think we can't call her nothing." He looks thoughtful. "And we probably shouldn’t call her Maybe Baby. You want something from your book?" he asks me—I guess referencing the Bible.

"Not necessarily."

"What about Eden?” Rayne asks. “I know it's the so-called origin of sin or whatever. But it's also the origin of free thought. Maybe it’s about stepping out of line...but also just how life works?" He shrugs, and now I really am beaming at him. "My theologian."

"Don't make fun of me." He's still smiling, but it's just a little strained.

"That did sound patronizing. Sorry. I actually love it. I'm not sure I disagree completely. Most people see the Fall as...well, a fall from grace. And maybe it was. But I think falling from grace is what allows us to seek that same grace again, in more intentional, active way."

"So it's part of the journey. That's what you mean?" Rayne asks.

"Yeah. You have to take the bad with the good. Nothing real is ever going to be perfect."

"I don't even think I want it to be,” he says. “Pretty boring."

"What about Eden Helena?"

His face lights up despite his tiredness. "Really? My mom?"

"Yeah, man. Of course. I'd love to do that."

"You're just gonna let me first-name her?" He snaps his fingers. "Just like that?"

The baby blinks at him, and I grin. "Just like that. I'm also gonna let you hold her. I think she needs to be fed. I'll go mix it."

I kiss his cheek and then I pass her to him.

"Eden," I can hear him murmur as I walk off with the diaper bag.

"The start of everything."

Vance

Okay, so the stories are true. These critters are loud as fuck, and they are not so good at sleeping.

"It's okay," I whisper-sing. We're sitting on one of the living room couches in front of a fire. The grandfather clock on the mantle shows it’s 9:20 a.m. We got her to sleep around 6:45, after feeding her a bottle and a half, and she slept between us in the bed, inside a laundry basket lined with one of those mattress-topper squishy things, before she woke up with a cat-like screech.

I figured I should let Sky sleep. God knows what his day will be like. I hope it’s not too bad. I check my phone as Eden sucks the baby milk out of the bottle. Even though I’m not surprised to find the news of our big night has hit the interwebs, I get a little jolt from seeing our pictures on TMZ and Page Six, and all the other tabloid sites that I’ve started hating.

At least TMZ’s headline is somewhat positive—or neutral, I guess: America’s Most Famous Pastor Ties the Knot in Vegas Elopement. Page Six has: Recently Outed ‘Pastor Luke’ Has Wild Vegas Night, and the Daily Mail—fucking Brits—has Pastor McDowell Marries Lover in Vegas with a smaller headline that says: Luke McDowell and his Chelsea artist fiancé were said to have partied until dawn with pack of bros.

Pack of bros. I roll my eyes even as I’m trying not to smile—because it was a good night. Maybe we were a pack of bros, but Luke had a blast. Like a kid at Christmas. Like a neglected orphan who never had Christmas. There were times when he seemed shy or embarrassed, but then these other times when his eyes went all wide and he looked so damn happy.

The Daily Mail has got a picture of us dancing with some of the other guys around us. One of them—I’m pretty sure his name was Carlos—is grabbing Sky’s bicep…so I guess the Daily Mail wants to make it look slutty. But Sky and I are looking into each other’s eyes, and Sky’s face is slack, because he’s drunk, but also because he’s got his whole attention focused on me. It’s so damn romantic, I want to frame the thing.

Fuck, I want to wake him up and taste that hot mouth of his. Instead, I smile down at Little Miss Baby, and she’s blinking up at me.

“Hey there, curious kitten. You need some attention too, huh?”

She is pretty. Who knew babies could be pretty?

“You’re a perfect little baby, aren’t you? That’s right…”

Her eyes close, and damn, it’s good to hold her little body up against mine. Like holding a puppy or something.

I rock her back and forth, moving just my torso, till her eyelids sag, but she won’t fully shut them.

“Someone’s stubborn, huh?”

She blinks. I check my text box as her eyes shut again, finding some congratulations texts from a few friends and then a text from Pearl.