I already did.
I’d loved her since the second I laid eyes on her.
Chapter Eleven
PATIENCE
I’m married.
There was no big shebang, fancy dress, cake, pretty words, or even a kiss at the end.
No, once Jett and I ironed out the details, we stood together in the condo he was staying in and let Gyth marry us. Other than the three of us, only Ruby and Lyric were there as witnesses.
It sounded awful, I know. Landon had told me that I didn’t have to go through with it. He said he would make sure Chaz and his family didn’t get their hands on my son.
But I couldn’t risk it.
I was stacking everything in my favor because there were no guarantees.
The thing was, I may not be getting the fairytale wedding, but I was getting the husband of my dreams. He just didn’t believe he could be that yet.
I was hellbent on showing him that he was wrong.
His expression days before we said, “I do,” when I told him that I was going to love him until he loved himself,flashed in my mind. Those blue eyes of his were so full of anguish, but for just a second, I’d seen a flash of hope.
It was all I needed to fuel me forward.
I’d do things the way he needed me to for now—one being he insisted we couldn’t live together because of his struggles, even though he wouldn’t elaborate on what those were exactly. I, however, refused to live so far away from him—not only because we were married, but because I believed he needed Griffin and me.
I wasn't sure if it had been wrong not to have Griffin there with us, but the situation was a bit off the wall, and I needed to nurture it with care.
So there I stood, a married woman in my soon-to-be old room, bags packed, sitting on the bed trying to explain to my son that Jett and I were married, along with the fact that we were moving to be closer to Jett.
God only knew what the days ahead would bring.
Griffin hadn’t seen Jett yet, nor had Gramps, Autumn, Tristan, or anyone else in the group besides Gyth, Lyric, and Ruby. I knew everyone was trying to be patient, but my kid was chomping at the bit.
Waving my hand in the air to get his attention, I asked, “Hey, do you understand what I'm telling you?”
Griffin looked at me, eyes filled with excitement as he bounced up and down on the bed. He nodded but then stopped suddenly, his gaze turning thoughtful.
“Why can’t we live with Daddy?”
I blew out a breath that sent my hair fluttering around my face. I’d known my little man was going to push that subject, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped he’d let it slide. Griffin rarely let anything fly past him, especially if it was important to him, so I wasn’t surprised.
“Honey, you know Jett got hurt?—”
“Daddy,” he corrected as he flopped onto his bottom.
Oh boy.
I’d kept saying Jett since I didn’t have a clue how the man himself felt about Griffin calling him Daddy, but my son was relentless.
“So you know how he got hurt,” I started again, but that wasn’t good enough.
My child blew out an exaggerated breath. “Daddy, say Daddy,” he demanded.
I dug deep for composure. This was so hard, but I caved.
