Light in Mourning (Mourning, #2) (29 page)

“Up and at ’em, wife,” I teased in the hollow of her throat. My warm breath spread across her skin, causing goose bumps to form. She sighed and stretched, a lazy grin spreading across her face before her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed back at me.
 

“Starting with that already?” One hand cupped my jaw and her thumb swept across my stubbled cheek.

“I like the way it sounds.” I shrugged sheepishly.
 

“Me too,” she said, all teasing gone from her voice. I dipped my head and placed a soft kiss on her lips, relishing the feel of them beneath mine.
 

“I need to take you on a honeymoon.” I tugged her bottom lip between my teeth and pulled. Her eyes shut with desire as she wrapped both her legs around my naked hips, the sheets tangled between our bodies.
 

“Honeymoon?” she murmured as she nibbled on my earlobe.
 

“We’re going for a sail.”

“Won’t it be cold?” She wrapped her locked ankles around my waist and pulled me tighter against her body. My dick pressed between us, throbbing with need for her as her hips ground circles against mine.
 

“Forecast looks great the next few days. I’ll take you somewhere warm and tropical as soon as we can swing it, but I want to run away with you right now.”

“What about everyone else?” Her brow furrowed as she referred to our best friends camped out in the house down the beach.
 

“They’re leaving today anyway. They can lock up the house.” I captured her lips with my own again and swirled my tongue inside her mouth, convincing her with my kiss to say yes.
 

“Okay,” she murmured before I proceeded to worship my wife with my lips.
 

“So where we headed, Captain?” She curled up on the bench next to the captain’s chair on the boat.
 

We’d gotten a little behind schedule—first our glorious lovemaking and then Drew had insisted on brunch before we all left. She’d promised they’d lock the house behind them before they left to go back to Jacksonville. Georgia had hugged her tightly, tears in her eyes. I made a vow to insist that Gavin and Drew and little Bennett come up more often and that we would visit Jacksonville whenever we could.
 

“North.” I winked at her.
 

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I got that much. Any particular destination in mind?”
 

“Nope. We’re just sailing. We’ve only got a few days, though. I thought we’d drop anchor when we’re done for the day, sleep on the boat, then do it all over again the next day.”

“Sounds cold and uncomfortable.” She frowned as she picked at a thread on her sweater.
 

“I promise you, it will be neither of those things.” I glanced over at her, taking her in. My mind remembered the first day I’d taken her on the boat over a year ago. The day that I’d let her steer and she’d fallen into me. She’d taken me by surprise, and I'd been willing to do anything to be in her presence.
 

She didn’t know it, didn’t get it—hell,
I
didn’t get it—but I was happy as fuck she’d let me have her.
 

Chosen me.
 

That’s what she’d done.
 

She’d finally chosen me and I now felt at peace with us. No more worrying that she would run, that I wasn’t worthy. I’d made myself worthy of her, done everything I could to get us here. Waited for her, stopped fucking around, settled myself. Pushed her, but never too far. She was here and I was here and we’d chosen each other and it was the most comforting feeling on Earth.

We returned Wednesday afternoon. I'd dropped Georgia off at the grocery store to buy some food for dinner and ran to the post office. I grabbed the large stack of mail that’d accumulated after days away and crawled back into the Jeep. I sifted through the stack: bills, junk mail, something from
Greater North Carolina Testing Services.
 

My heart shuddered to a halt.
 

My palms prickled and turned white as I clutched the innocent-looking white envelope in my hands. I couldn’t catch my breath.

I shouldn’t open this here. Not without her. I didn’t want to shatter the blissful bubble we’d been in the first few days of our marriage. I didn’t know what these test results said, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted them to say, but either way, it would affect us somehow.
 

I tossed the remaining mail on the console between the seats and turned the key. I drove in a semi-daze to the grocery store to get my girl. I sat in the parking lot, fingering the letter while Charlie panted obnoxiously in the back seat. I flipped it between my hands, my fingers worrying the edges. I pulled my lips between my teeth and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. Charlie stood in the back, placed his two big paws on the console, and panted hot, heavy breaths in my face.
 

“Fuck, come on, Charlie.” I ducked my head away and rolled down the window for fresh air. “Should I wait for her?” I tapped the letter against the steering wheel. Just then, the back door opened and Georgia shoved a multitude of bags into the back seat.
 

“Thanks for the help. What the hell are husbands good for if they can’t carry the groceries?” she mumbled before settling herself in the front seat and locking her seatbelt.
 

“Sorry.” I turned to her. Taking in her face, the chocolate waves of her hair. Her beautiful full lips curved in a pout, melted chocolate eyes watching me, the delicate eyebrows arched in surprise.

“What? Is something on my face?” She swiped at her mouth before pulling down the mirror.

“No,” I muttered before leaning into her. “Thank you for marrying me.” I kissed her lips chastely.
 

“Oh.” Her mouth formed that adorable O and I couldn’t help but smile at her surprise and innocence.
 

“I picked up the mail.” I pulled my lips between my teeth again and averted my eyes.
 

‘“Yeah?” I could feel her eyes still watching me.
 

“This came.” I thrust the offending letter at her. The one that had my stomach in knots.
 

She flipped it over and read the return address. “Oh.” Her face fell with understanding. “You didn’t open it yet?”
 

“No, I was waiting . . . I guess . . .” I trailed off.
 

“Okay. Do you want me to . . . ?” she offered.
 

I shook my head feverishly. “No, let’s just have dinner first. Get settled.” I started the Jeep and pulled out of the parking lot, steering us toward home.
 

“This is driving me nuts. I can’t watch you like this. It’s like pulling off a band aid—just open it.” She stood from the kitchen table an hour later, taking both of our plates to the sink. She swiped the envelope off the island and thrust it at me. I chewed on my bottom lip, ran a hand through my hair, and shuffled my feet. My heart felt like it was lodged in my fucking throat. This was the moment where I’d find out if Trevor were mine. If I had a son. If I’d had a baby with someone else, and my new wife was here watching me, supporting me, loving me, regardless of the results. It meant the entire fucking world to me that she'd married me without even knowing the results. She'd proven it didn't matter, she loved me anyway. Loved me enough to stay, regardless. That single act had proven to me I was enough in her eyes.
 

“Can you do it?” I looked up at her, my eyes round as saucers, pleading with her to take some of my anguish away.
 

“Yeah, baby.” She pulled herself into my lap and threaded her hands in my hair, scratching my scalp, placing a soft kiss along my neck, calming me. “No matter what it says, things are going to work out exactly as they were meant to, okay?” Her soft brown eyes held mine and I nodded. “Okay.” She pulled the envelope from the table as I tapped my fingers against her lower back nervously.
 

She tugged the end open, ripping the stark white paper before sliding out the small stack of results. She looked the papers over and I watched her eyes dance across the first few sentences. She sucked in a sharp breath and read a few more, moisture filling her eyes before she laid the papers in her lap and looked over to me.
 

Her eyes bore into mine. Searching for answers, my eyes widened, waiting for what she would tell me about my future.
 

If I were Trevor’s dad.
 

I loved the kid; had gotten the chance to know him these last few months. I wanted to give kids to Georgia, share that with her, just us, but I also knew there was a small piece of my heart that was attached to the four-year-old boy who'd shown up on my porch this summer.
 

“He’s not . . . the results are negative. You’re not his dad.” Tears trickled down her cheeks as she wrapped me in her arms. I sat frozen for a minute, my heart pounding in my chest. It ran so fucking fast, I thought it would burst out of my ribcage and gallop off.
 

I wasn’t Trevor’s dad.
 

Trevor wasn’t mine.