Page 92 of The Commander
“I wanted this for us. I want you to have everything.”
“I do,” Quinn says. “I have you.”
“Then say it again, sweetheart. Agree to be my wife and spend the rest of your life with me.”
“A thousand times, yes,” she replies without hesitation.
My heart swells as I glide the sparkling ring over her knuckle and press it in place where it will stay for eternity. Then I close the small gap and kiss her in a way we haven’t before.
A kiss that feels as if it takes place inside our souls.
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THREE DAYS LATER, we’re sitting at my father’s table having lunch. He’s grumbling about everything, but Quinn is charming the pants off him.
Not literally.
“This is delicious cornbread, Mr. Jenkins.”
“Call me Dad,” he grumbles, but I see the sparkle in his eyes.
He adores her.
“Are you sure?”
“You call me Dad, girl, and we will get along just fine.”
“You will need a suit for the wedding. Do you have one? I can go shopping with you?” Quinn offers.
“Thought you two would elope?” He glances at me in question, and I shrug.
“I’ll do whatever Quinn wants.”
“Good boy.” He nods.
When we leave later that afternoon, I’m standing at the door waiting for Quinn to gather her things when he places a hand on my arm.
I turn to him, and he doesn’t say anything. Not a word. But I know everything he’s not saying. When he nods, I nod, too, and my heart tightens inside my chest.
He’s happy for me.
He’s proud.
He’s happy for himself, also, which he should be. We have life back in our family. Life and a sparkle that Quinn is responsible for.
“Her father won’t be happy,” I share vulnerably.
“He will in time. You’re a good man, son.” He pats my arm as Quinn arrives.
She throws her arms around him as if she is part of the family and has been forever.
Dad and I share another glance, and it’s not until we climb onto the bike that I realize he was sober all day. He had one drink and didn’t open another bottle.
He did that for me.
He did that for Quinn.
Shaking my head, I start the bike and silently thank those motherfucking cartels.
