Chapter 20
Goldie
I clutch my stomach and limp into the house ahead of Davis when he holds the backdoor open for me, which leads directly into the kitchen, shedding more leaves and dirt with each step. I stop short at seeing the group seated around the kitchen table staring at me. Davis nearly knocks me over, and he catches me around the waist so I don’t fall, making me suck in a sharp breath.
Ms. Judy cries out and stands up so fast that she knocks her chair back on the tile. Her hand flies to her mouth before she rushes around the table to yank me away from Davis. For a woman no taller than me, she has enough strength to shove Davis back against the door after getting between us.
“You bastard! You promised!” She slaps him across the face, and I gasp.
Davis doesn’t try to defend himself—simply presses his arms to his sides and accepts another one of her cracking slaps. Dolly rises from her seat, but no one tries to intervene. When Ms. Judy accuses Davis of abusing me, though, and his brows dip with hurt as she pulls back her hand to slap him again, I snap out of my shocked stupor.
I push between them, press my back to Davis’s chest, and raise my hands in a stop gesture. “He didn’t hurt me!”
Ms. Judy stumbles away, eyes brimming with furious tears that slip down her cheeks. Looking from me to him and back again, she cups my face with shaky, cold hands.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I repeat, sliding my hands over hers and looking directly into her watery blue eyes. “I’m ok, I promise.”
“But your stomach…He didn’t”—Ms. Judy drops a hand to clutch her own like she can’t breathe—“hit you?”
“No, no. Davis has never hit me.” Only if you don’t count kinky spanking as hitting , I add silently.
Davis wraps his arm around my waist. He palms my lower stomach and tells her, “It’s my fault, but, uh, not for the reasons you might think.” The heat of his hand and the subtle pressure ease some of the ache.
Ms. Judy’s brows crease in the middle, not understanding his meaning—that he basically rearranged my guts.
My face flames. “We, um, we—”
“Had filthy hot makeup sex in the woods?” Wyatt lets loose a startling, booming laugh that, thankfully, cuts into the tense atmosphere. “Been there, done that.”
Dolly smacks his chest with the back of her hand and says, “You have to stop saying stuff like that when our moms can hear you!” Though she’s sucking in her cheeks, trying not to laugh, her eyes are pinched with worry for her mom.
Color blooms high in Ms. Judy’s pale cheeks. She slowly drops her hands, which continue to tremble, and steps back toward Dolly. She asks me, “You’re sure you’re ok?”
“Yes. I promise I’m ok.” Better than ok .
When I think she finally believes me, she turns and tugs Dolly into a rib-crushing hug, crying harder than before. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” I only catch snippets of her apologizing for…not stepping in when she should have?
I’m not entirely sure what that’s about, but Dolly has tears in her eyes now, too, having wrapped her arms low around her mom’s back, saying, “I know,” and, “It’s in the past.” I’m hit with a heavy wave of my own sad understanding when Dolly says, “He can’t hurt us anymore.”
Ms. Ellie joins their sides, hugging the both of them. Once they all pull apart, Ms. Ellie smiles faintly and says, “I think it’s time we call it a night now that we know Goldie is ok.” She darts her eyes to my left hand that I’ve placed on top of Davis’s to press it harder against my belly so I can absorb more of his heat. She steps forward and pats my cheek, then Davis’s, offering her congratulations.
Ms. Judy is next, tearfully apologizing to Davis for thinking the worst and slapping him. She seems embarrassed when Davis softly tells her that he understands why she did it and that she has nothing to apologize for. She asks if she can hug me, rubbing her hand up and down my back when I allow it. Then she kisses Davis’s red cheeks, apologizes once more, and leaves with Ms. Ellie after they say goodnight to Dolly and Wyatt.
Dolly beams at me when she lifts my hand and gazes at the gold band and marquise-cut diamond with a halo of smaller diamonds. I had thought Davis’s proposal was spur of the moment, but he’d come prepared with his mother’s gorgeous engagement ring. It’s the prettiest piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen, and I almost don’t feel worthy enough to wear it. When I started crying big, uncontrollable sobs after he slipped it onto my finger, he rushed to tell me he’d replace it if I wanted something more modern. He thought I was crying because I didn’t like it, but no other ring could ever be more special than this one.
Wyatt slaps Davis’s back, and unexpectedly, Dolly starts to cry all over again when we hug. When she pulls away, she fans her face and says, “Dang hormones. I cry at everything these days.” She breaks into another brilliant smile as she picks a few twigs from my wild hair. “I’m just so happy for y’all. Are you happy?”
I tell her honestly, “My body isn’t, but my heart is.”
She snorts. “I know how that goes. Always a fun time in the moment, but the aftermath can be brutal.” She drops her hand to mine, then leans in and whispers in a way that isn’t actually a whisper by most people’s standards, “Just be careful. Giant men lead to giant, vagina-breaking babies. Ask me how I know.”
Wyatt laughs so long and loud that William comes toddling into the kitchen in blue long-sleeve Hot Wheels pajamas, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He doesn’t seem too happy about being woken up by all the noise, and he gives his Pops the kind of look that’ll make grown men shrink back when he’s older and as big as Wyatt.
I laugh, too, which is a bad idea since it makes my stomach and core spasm.
Davis pulls me back into his hold to rub circles over my belly and kisses my temple. “Think it’s about time we grabbed Lily and got you home and into the bath.”
Once Davis has transferred a sleeping Lily from the crib to the car seat in the Ford, he wraps an arm around my back and faces Wyatt, who has Dolly curled under his arm, and a hush falls. “I don’t want to drop more on your plate than you already have, Dolly, but I was hoping you could—”
Dolly interrupts. “Get the girls together and help plan the wedding?”
Davis chuckles. “Yeah. And maybe—”
“Take Goldie wedding dress shopping?” She grins when he nods. “When’s the wedding?”
He drops a bomb on me when he answers, “Thursday.”
My jaw goes slack. “Thursday?”
“Gotta wait three days after getting a marriage license in Texas to get married,” Davis says with another nod. He clicks his tongue. “Wish we didn’t have to wait so long.”
“So long?” I mutter under my breath, “Jesus, you really are crazy.”
He tips my chin up, and we lock eyes, his swimming with sincerity. “Three minutes is too long without you wearing my last name, honey, let alone three days.”
Shocked to the tips of my toes at how much has changed in the space of a few hours, I can’t do much more than blink up at Dolly after we exchange phone numbers and she informs me she’ll introduce me to Granny’s Girls tomorrow to get started on planning the wedding.
Dolly pulls me in for yet another hug. I’ve missed this kind of feminine affection since Aunt Lydia passed, and Dolly, Ms. Judy, and Ms. Ellie have given me so much in such a short amount of time that my heart is bursting with it.
She leans back and says, “You’ll get used to it.”
“Used to what?”
“The whirlwind,” she says, giving me a wink that reminds me of her husband. “Speaking from experience, fate moves fast.”
“Fate.” I whisper the word.
She nods and rests her palm on her belly. Wyatt hugs her from behind, and they wave to us as Davis turns the truck around and takes the long gravel drive toward the road. I watch in the side mirror as Wyatt scoops Dolly into his arms and carries her like a bride onto the porch. He kisses her as they step across the threshold into their house just before they’re out of sight.
Davis
I dragged Goldie out of bed just after dawn with the promise of hot coffee and breakfast tacos on the way to the county courthouse so that we’d be the first in line when the doors opened. Although it wasn’t necessary for Sheriff Gibson to appear when we met with the judge to review our petition, his presence was appreciated, and we left with some semblance of relief that a temporary restraining order had been approved. With any hope, Mrs. Fitzroy will be scared enough by the temporary order and won’t come after us again between now and her trial when, hopefully, she’ll be convicted and out of our lives for good.
I shake hands with Sheriff Gibson as soon as we step out of the courtroom, our relief palpable. “Thanks for coming.”
“Of course. I—”
Cradling Lily in one arm, Goldie damn near throws herself at the man, clinging to his neck in a way that makes me want to peel her off him—I don’t like her touching any man that way other than me. Surprisingly, it brings a tear to the bulldozer’s eyes.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” she cries into the shoulder of his uniform. “I’m naming my next baby after you.”
Of course, hearing her say my next baby makes my dick swell in my jeans and picture my son growing in her belly.
“Well, ain’t that something.” Sheriff clears his throat. “You’re welcome, Marigold.” He pats her back, then darts his eyes to mine with a raised brow, signaling me to pull Goldie away and let her cling to me instead.
Swaying with Goldie, Lily between us, I ask him, “What’s your first name? I don’t think I know it.” He’s been in his position for almost as long as I’ve been alive, and most people simply refer to him as Sheriff . I’m sure that’s how he’ll still be referred to long after he retires.
He chuckles. “Ronald.”
I groan and tip Goldie’s head back with a finger under her chin. “You’re gonna make me name my son Ronald or Ronnie?” She winces. To Sheriff, now laughing at our reactions, I say, “Maybe we’ll stick to using it for his middle name.”
He snorts. “Good idea.” With that, he tips his head toward the hall that leads to the opposite side of the building, where we can apply for our marriage license. He waves us off, and I take a deep breath, my heart thumping harder than when we were in front of the judge.
This is it. Just one more step toward binding Goldie and Lily to me for the rest of our lives.
Right before we step into the office, Goldie turns to me, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Are you one hundred percent certain this is what you want, Davis?”
I back her up against the wall beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights. I lift both hands to cup her face and kiss her for so long that I leave her breathless and all but begging for more. “Do I need to take you out into the woods again to prove it? I’m sure Dolly would be willing to babysit. Just say the word, baby, and I’ll be happy to f—”
Goldie flashes me her wide eyes and whisper-hisses, “Davis! Not in front of Lily or…” She darts her attention to the side at a couple approaching the office, hand in hand, on their way to binding the rest of their lives to each other as well.
I kiss her again. Whispering against her lips after pressing her hand to my chest over my heart, I say, “Marigold Lewis, I don’t want to wait a single second more to tie you to me for eternity. We may not have known each other for long, but the second I saw you, touched you, I knew deep down inside that we were fated to be together.”
“Fate. There’s that word again.”
“Fate,” I confirm. “I never believed in fate until you, and there’s no other word to describe the immediate need to bring you home and take care of you. You and Lily are mine as much as I’m yours. There will never be another Mrs. Freeman for me. Never.”
“Davis.” She breathes out my name in such a way that my heart pounds even harder in my chest.
Struck by insecurity, I say, “Tell me you feel the same way, baby.”
She does. Not with words, yet, but with the soft expression in her eyes and the way she goes up on her tiptoes after sliding her hand up to palm the back of my neck and pulling me down to meet her lips. She’s the one who leaves me breathless when we finally break apart.
“I love you,” she says with a whisper. Then louder. And louder again until we’re both grinning like fools.
Holding her hand, we step into the office and are directed to the left, where there are two empty seats pulled up to a partitioned counter across from a woman who looks like she’d be more at home in the middle of a mosh pit, dressed head to toe in black with various sized chain necklaces draped around her neck. Throughout our application, tears build in her eyes until they slip down her cheeks onto the paperwork.
When the woman— Carolina —slides the signed license across the counter, Goldie lays her hand on top of hers. “Are you ok?”
Carolina’s lower lip trembles. “I’m sorry. My husband. Three months ago. He…” She dabs at her cheeks with a tissue in her free hand, then thumbs through her necklaces to hold one up. Two black wedding bands are looped on a more delicate chain, and understanding dawns.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Goldie whispers, squeezing her hand.
Fear at the thought of Goldie being ripped away from me too soon when we’re still so young makes me lightheaded. Just one day spent on earth without my future wife by my side would be one day too long.
Goldie’s eyes drift to mine afterward, and yeah, I know without a shred of doubt that she feels the same way.