He will be there to meet Evan officially.
As my fiancé.
Because after Friday night and all of Saturday and Saturday night, after the conversations and the decisions and the way he looked at me like I was something precious—we’re doing this.
Marriage.
The word still makes my pulse jump.
“I only intend to get married once, Kelly,” J.T.told me, voice steady, certain.“And I’ve waited this long.I want to do it right.”
So that means we are doing everything.
Bride.Groom.Officiant.Vows.Guests.Reception.
He pulled strings.Made calls.
Three weeks from now I’ll be walking down the aisle again, but this time I’ll be Mrs.Leonard J.T.Lawrence.
No McCrae hyphen.
“One more thing.You’re taking my name, Kelly McCrae.Understand?No half-stepping.No hyphens.You will have my name.”
I can still hear his voice, and the fact he was holding my orgasm hostage at the time might have led me to agree to his caveman demand—but I gave my word, so three weeks from now I will become Mrs.Lawrence.
And me?I’m stunned.
Nervous.
Excited.
Terrified.
Hopeful.
All of it at once.
“So,” I try again lightly, “what did you and Grams and Gramps get up to?You only called me once.I didn’t even get the full report.”
Evan keeps his eyes on the road ahead.
“Nothin’.We went grocery shopping.Watched the game.Grams made snickerdoodles.”
“Ooooh,” I grin.“I bet they were amazing.”
He shrugs again.
The shrug worries me more than anything else.
I pull into Thatcher’s driveway, and before I can even cut the engine, Evan’s door is open.
He bolts across the yard.
Thatcher’s already waiting with two gloves and a baseball in hand.
“Hey, Buddy!Wanna throw it around a bit?”
“Yeah, Uncle Thatch!”
