Mine to Have (Southern Wedding #1)(61)

"Your father called this," my mother says, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me out of the room and down toward another room. Bride is written in the middle of the door. "You." She points at Travis. "You can’t come in here."

"I have already seen everything," Travis admits and my mother glares at him.

"We told him not to," Clarabella says from behind me and now I turn. "He’s the worst. Like, the absolute worst." She looks at Travis. "The worst."

My mother opens the door and there in the middle of the room is a mannequin with my wedding dress on it. "We have five other dresses," my mother says. "But this one.”

I walk over to it and pick up the sheer sleeves, seeing that there are embroidered flowers all the way up to the shoulders. The embroidered flowers are all over the dress as it hugs the mannequin, and then kicks off at the knee with tulle and then the edge of the bottom has big embroidered flowers. My hand touches the fabric and the tears come to my eyes. "This is," I start to say. "It’s beautiful." My mother doesn’t say anything; instead, all she does is wipe away the tear that is coming out of the corner of her eye.

"We took a little piece of my dress," she tells me. "And then there is a little bit of Grandma’s." She picks up the sleeves and I see that some of the flowers are beige but you can’t even tell.

"But how did you?" I ask her and she tilts her head to the side like, are you even going to ask me that. "You probably had this done the day he asked you if he can marry me."

She laughs. "Just about."

"Okay," I declare, looking around the room at everyone. "Let’s get married."

"She’s serious," Shelby says, her eyes going big. "You’re serious."

"As serious as flies on shit," I confirm, and my mother groans as everyone laughs.

"Seriously, that’s the best you can do?"

"What do you say?" I look over at Travis. "Want to be my husband?" He walks to me, standing in front and looking down into my eyes.

This man who I fell in love with, who then broke my heart and then just like that, mended it back together again. The man who every fairy tale is made of. The man who makes my stomach flutter. The man who makes me smile and frown. The man who I know I will love for the rest of my life. The man who I want to have babies with and I want to sit on the front porch with, holding his hand forever. The man who is my everything. "There is nothing else I’d rather do than make you my wife." He kisses me softly.

"Then it’s settled," I say, looking at his sisters. "We’re getting married."





Epilogue One





Travis

Ten months later

"So, when the doctor said to slow down." I look over at Harlow, who has her back to me as she writes down something in the chart. "You thought that would mean spending twelve hours on your feet?"

I put my hands on my hips as she turns around, and I see the roundness of her stomach. "Well, one." She holds up her finger. "I was sitting most of the day." She rubs her stomach, and I can’t put into words what it feels like to be married to her. Every fucking day, I thank the universe for giving her back to me. And now that she’s carrying our baby, I couldn’t love her more. I mean, every day, I love her more and more. "And two." She glares, and all I want to do is sit on the couch with her and rub her feet. "I’m fine. Besides, I have two weeks left, and I’ll be on maternity leave for at least three months," she says, and I know that she’ll get itchy about coming back after two months.

"Okay, but I think that you are pushing it just a touch.” I try to reason with her, but I know, in the end, she’s going to do what she wants to do. Just like the so-called engagement party that turned into a wedding. It was the best night of my life, watching her walk down the aisle with her parents beside her. I have never felt calmer and surer about anything in my life.

"Did you come in here to argue with me, or did you bring me a snack?" She cocks her hip and then stands straight again, and I see her face trying to hide something.

"What just happened?" I ask her as she rubs her belly.

"What's wrong is the whole day if I moved too much, I would get this pain in my lower back. Your child"—she points at her belly—"is being difficult."

I walk to her and put my hands on her stomach and squat down, kissing her stomach. "Hey, love bug," I say to her stomach. "Can you go easy on Mom?"

"I’m telling you it’s a boy." She looks down at me. "It has to be."

"Or it could be a stubborn girl, just like her momma," I tease, getting up and kissing her lips.

When we found out we were pregnant, the doctor asked us if we wanted to know the sex, and Harlow was adamant about not knowing.

"Are there two arms and two legs? Does the baby look healthy? That’s all that matters."

"Ouch," she says and winces and then holds her stomach. "That was a sharp one. Kid must be on my nerve or something."

I put my hand on her stomach, and it's rock hard. "How long have you been having these pains, Harlow?"

She avoids my eyes. "I don’t know. It’s not like I was timing them," she huffs and then finally looks at me. "I might have maybe," she starts to say. "Perhaps." She rolls her eyes. "Probably did too much today." I’m about to say something when her eyes widen, and then I look down to see her scrubs wet. "Oh my God," she says and looks down also. "Oh my God."