Maybe I can matter to him now.
My gaze drifts down to the ring he slipped on my finger, and I can’t help but smile. It’s a beautiful ring. It looks vintage in a way that makes me wonder if it’s a family heirloom. Is this the same ring his grandmother wore?
Just as the judge pronounces us husband and wife, my eyes find Rook’s again. He doesn’t let the judge tell him to kiss me; he’s moving before the words can fill the room. His hands grip my hips, and he pulls me flush against his chest.
One of his hands glides up my spine until his hand fits into place gripping the nape of my neck. He leans me back slightly and then his mouth is on mine. I gasp against his lips, the jolt that rolls through my body reminding me exactly how it feels to have his skin against mine.
“You’re my wife now,” there’s possession wrapped up in his words as he murmurs them against my lips.
“And you’re my husband.” My lips curve into a grin as he rights me while desire flashes in his eyes as he looks down at me.
We turn together to where my girls are standing as our witnesses, as our support, as my family. Even though my parents will be at the party; I wanted this to just be us.
My best friends cheer for us, their exuberance making me laugh with my head tipped back. When I glance up at Rook, he’s looking at me like he’s never going to let me go.
I can only hope.
“Let’s go party,” Greylin chirps as Rook starts to lead me out of the judge’s chambers.
His hand is warm and firm as he laces our fingers together. I bring the other one up to look down at my ring. It’s beautiful and perfect for me—it’s not too big, but the diamond still catches the light just right.
“Where’d you get the ring?” I can’t help but ask the question.
Rook pauses long enough for me to glance up at him. The tops of his ears turn pink and it’s adorable. “It was my grandmother’s ring,” his voice is thick with emotion as he answers me.
I suck in a sharp breath and then let it out slowly. Even though I suspected it was true, hearing it is a whole other thing.
“I can’t wear your grandmother’s ring,” I hiss at him, fear hitting the middle of my chest. I’m going to lose it, ruin it, or have some other horrible thing befall the ring.
The ring his grandmother wore as a symbol of her marriage to his grandfather.
Somehow the ring now feels heavier on my finger.
The moment we step outside the courthouse, Rook turns toward me which makes me stop at the top of the steps. My friends scurry past us and wave while saying something about making sure everything is perfect for our entrance.
I’m barely listening to them because Rook’s brown eyes are looking down at me with an intensity that makes me feel like prey. I can’t say I dislike the feeling.
“You can wear her ring,” his voice is firm. “She would have wanted you to wear it, Wildflower,” his voice softens around the edges as if the memories of her cause him both joy and pain.
Grief is funny like that.
His eyes go unfocused as he looks over my shoulder. “She would have loved you,” he confesses. “She would have been right there with your girls cheering us on.” When his gaze focuses again, he looks down at me with a small smile playing on his lips. “You are the rightful owner of that ring. If she were still with us, she would have pressed it into my hand and toldme to slip on your finger a while ago.” His eyes slide closed and vulnerability fills his words, “For a moment, when I was sliding it into place, I swear I felt her standing right next to me. I could feel her pride.”
“Then I’ll wear it in honor of her and her strength. I have a feeling it takes a lot of both to deal with a Sherman man,” I tease him and pretend I’m not uncertain even though I am.
His head tips back on his shoulders as he lets out a hearty laugh. “I’m pretty sure she’d agree with you on that one.”
Even though the sadness remains in his eyes, which I think is going to be there for a while, the smile he flashes me is pure sunlight. Knowing that I’m the one who put it there does something to my heart. I want to make him smile every day.
Rook pulls me against his chest and my hands land on his shoulders. “We should get going. I want you to enjoy this party; you deserve it.”
“We should get going,” I echo his words while nodding slowly.
Neither one of us move.
When he leans down, my hands slide up around his neck, and I tip up to close the rest of the distance between us. This kiss, our second as a married couple, is different from the ones before. It’s so much better, layered with a hope I know only exists because we’re going to try to make this marriage real.
As he deepens the kiss, his tongue slips into my mouth and twirls with my own. I groan while his chest rumbles with something like delight.
