Bring It Home (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 3)

“Great, so you’re going to get married before me and wear Mom’s dress. I feel this is an attack.”

Boon groans behind me, and I squeeze my fists together.

Meanwhile, my dad asks once more, “Wait, what?”

“Dad, follow. We want to get married. Now. We don’t want to wait. Shelli, news flash, I don’t give a flying poo about your wedding or beating you or anything like that. I just want to marry the man I love. Tina, I promise I have my life together, and I’m really sorry my family is crazy. It’s mostly my siblings—my parents are wonderful. I knew this would be how everyone handled this, and I’m sorry, but we just thought it would be a fun surprise and exciting since we wanted to wait to tell everyone about the baby—”

What is wrong with me?

More hysteria.

“You’re pregnant!”

“This is not fair! First to get married and have a baby!”

“Dude, you knocked her up before you married her…again.”

“Our dad is going to murder you.”

“Because the first time our dad tried to kill you wasn’t enough?”

“This is a shitshow,” Aiden says, and I can’t help but agree.

“What the hell. And then you’ll be pregnant at my wedding. Did you and Amelia plan this?”

“Is this why you didn’t wear white?”

“Wait, what?”

“Wow,” is all Boon says as he falls into his chair. I feel the same way and want to do the same. But instead, I throw my hands up, tears running down my face.

But before either of us can say anything, my dad yells, “You were just pregnant four months ago!”

I let my shoulders fall. “I know, and we waited the time they said. But I guess I’m supposed to be pregnant, because here I am!” I say, giving everyone jazz hands to lighten the mood, but no one is smiling. “We feel it’s a miracle.”

“Well, of course, all babies are miracles,” Mom says, trying to calm everyone down. But it’s my family. They’re fucking crazy.

Dad whips a glare at my future husband. “And you can’t wrap it up? Can’t afford condoms?”

Boon holds up his hands in defense. “We do. I can.”

“They’re only like 98% effective. He could have seriously strong sperm,” Quinn supplies.

Of course, Boon flicks up his collar, grinning at me. “Hear that? I have strong sperm.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“How do you know you have strong sperm? Dad, do we have strong sperm?” Owen asks. Meanwhile, my mom is beet red, and I wish…I wish we could have a wedding without all this crazy.

“I knocked up your mom with two babies, one shot,” he says proudly. Boon grins over at him, but Dad glares. “We aren’t bonding over strong sperm, buddy.”

I throw up my hands again. “For the love of God. Stop! All of you!”

I look down at Boon for some help, and he just smiles. “Wow.”

“Help?”

He nods. “Of course.”

He stands, taking my hand in his and kissing the back before looking at my family. “Yes, we want to get married. And yes, we are pregnant. She’s nine weeks. She didn’t tell me until last night when I proposed, and yeah, I was surprised too. I don’t want to marry her because of the baby, I want to marry her because I love her more than life itself. We would really love some support here. If not, you don’t have to cross the road with us.”

Oh. Oh my. I have never been so turned on in my life. I take a deep breath as I wipe my face. “We wanted to do it now, because why not? Why wait? Before remembering Mom’s dress and my aunts and my grandparents—shit, I forgot my grandparents. But really, there was no real reason holding us back—”

“Wait? That’s holding you back?”

Boon’s question runs up my spine. I bite my lip and look over at him. “No, not at all,” I say quickly, pressing my hand to his chest. “See, I knew if I asked my aunt Grace, then Ryan and Amelia would be pissed they weren’t there. I knew inviting Harper would have pissed Grace off more, so I left her out. And I totally ignored calling my grandparents because they’re in Boston. And then I forgot about my mom’s dress. I love her dress,” I say, and when the tears start to gather again, I feel like an idiot. I knew this was a crazy idea, and I made it worse by letting the baby news slip. Well, not slip—I threw that out there like a ref dropping a puck.

Damn it, I want a redo.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

I can’t look at him. “I got caught up in it all. I was so excited.”

“I am too, but that’s a lot you held back.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m ready. Let’s go,” I say, trying to pull him up, but he doesn’t move.

“I want this to be right. I want it to be everything you want.”