That was before Brennan.
Today is our wedding day, and it’s the best one of my life. Aside from the night I met her; who knew things could start off with such a … connection? Yeah, we’ll call it that. I’m sure one of the guys will allude to the fact that we had sex eight seconds into knowing each other in their best man speech. Yes, they insisted on doing a combined speech, and I have a feeling it will be more of a roast of me, but a good-natured one.
Not that I care. The only thing I care about today, and most days, is the gorgeous woman currently twirling around the dance floor in her stepfather’s arms. Brennan is covered in white lace, the dress she chose both sexy and classic, just like her. When I saw her walk down the aisle this afternoon, I could barely breathe. She’s so goddamn stunning, I found myself staring at her when the officiant was trying to feed me the lines of my vows. The crowd chuckled as I shook my head to clear the daze.
When she slid the ring onto my finger, my bones finally settled. For a long time, I’ve felt alone, adrift. I had no one in my life to count on, and nothing to keep me from floating away. Brennan does that. She keeps me grounded, watches my back, loves me even if I’m being a dick, and I do the same for her.
The father-daughter dance ends, and I walk right for her, wasting no time at getting her back in my arms.
“May I?” I ask her stepfather, trying to cut in.
He nods and pats me on the back. Surprisingly, Brennan’s stepfather is a fan of words even less than I am. But, her whole extended brood is nice, and they’ve been great to have around while planning the wedding.
We decided on the yacht club close to our house, just over the state line in New Jersey. As I take her in my arms, we’re dancing under a ceiling of twinkling Christmas lights while the Philly skyline glitters across the river.
“Hi, Mrs. Avery,” I whisper in her ear as I twirl her to the music.
“Hi, Mr. Avery. Oh, now I know how sexy it is to hear our last name. And that tux … it’s really doing things for me.” She giggles.
“In that case, should we get out of here and start the honeymoon early?” I’ve been dying to get her alone all day.
Brennan snuggles in, putting her cheek against my chest. “No, I want to savor this night. We’ll only get it once. We have a lifetime of foreplay.”
That makes me snort, because I’m not sure who is hornier at any given time, her or me.
She’s right. This night has that incandescently perfect sheen, one I don’t want to ruin. We’ve had some hard days, and should milk this one for all it’s worth.
Two weeks ago, I found out that Philly may not offer me a new contract. I’m thirty-two now, so it’s not surprising since my baseball career is becoming more and more finite. There is a chance I could be traded, or could just retire myself and pull out of the game. I’m not sure what I’ll do yet, but I’ve been lucky to play as long as I have, and am not stressing about it. After all, I have something to come home to now. Something that is more important than any sport, job, or activity out there.
And then there is Brennan’s ex. About four months after Brennan went in and testified to the parole board, they upheld Jacob’s sentence. She had to go in again about a year ago, where they upheld it again. He’s in for another three years before he’s eligible again, and I know that it’s something she thinks about from time to time. It’s always something that hangs above her head, but together, we’ve learned to cope with it. The last go round, she was so strong and collected about it, I was in awe of her.
I’m always in awe of her.
And we’ll always get through the tough times together.
As a Cyndi Lauper song comes on, and the Grover girls flood the dance floor to hop around with Brennan, I find the guys at the bar again.
“Do you think you’ll have kids?” Clint wastes no time asking me the question he’s posed for probably the fiftieth time in the last five years.
My friends, all father’s two or three, or four in some of their cases, times over, want Brennan and I to add to this massive brood of “cousins” they’re creating. He and Kelsey had another daughter, Miles and Chloe had two boys and a girl in five years, and Minka just gave birth to her and Owen’s twins about six months ago, making their total four.
“Can I just enjoy my wedding day?” I roll my eyes.
“No. We’re always going to be here to nag you. That’s what friends are for,” Owen says, a cheery grin on his face.
Little do they know, Brennan and I have been having this discussion for a while. Neither of us is sure we want children, but the more time we spend around our friend’s kids, the more I can see the heart eyes my wife has for them.
We decided we’ll start with one and see how it goes. Although we’re scared about the scars of our past influencing us as parents, we both agree we’d be even more remiss if we didn’t create a family.
And I can’t wait to start trying.
As I watch her across the dance floor, her hair blowing in the wind and the words of a famous female empowerment song bursting from her lips, I smile. That, in and of itself, is a miracle. Before Brennan, I’m not sure I remembered how to smile.
She is my miracle. My sassy, opinionated, pushy, wonderful, incredible miracle.
With her, I’ll be smiling for the rest of my life.
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Also by Carrie Aarons
All of my books are currently enrolled in Kindle Unlimited.
Standalones:
The Tenth Girl
You’re the One I Don’t Want
Privileged
Elite
Red Card
Down We’ll Come, Baby
As Long As You Hate Me
All the Frogs in Manhattan
Save the Date
Melt
When Stars Burn Out
Ghost in His Eyes
On Thin Ice
Kissed by Reality
The Rogue Academy Series:
The Second Coming
The Lion Heart
The Nash Brothers Series:
Fleeting
Forgiven
Flutter
Falter
The Flipped Series:
Blind Landing
Grasping Air
The Captive Heart Duet:
Lost
Found
The Over the Fence Series:
Pitching to Win
Hitting to Win
Catching to Win
About the Author
Author of romance novels such as Red Card and Privileged, Carrie Aarons writes books that are just as swoon-worthy as they are sarcastic. A former journalist, she prefers the stories she dreams up, and the yoga pants dress code, much better.
When she isn’t writing, Carrie is busy binging reality TV, having a love/hate relationship with cardio, and trying not to burn dinner. She lives in the suburbs of New Jersey with her husband, daughter and dog.
Please join her readers group, Carrie’s Charmers, to get the latest on new books, as well as talk about reality TV, wine and home decor.
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Over the Fence Box Set Page 68