Page 112 of Light

At once, all the tension in his face transforms into a different texture. Oh, the guy is still terrified, all right—but even with that trepidation crawling through his veins, he maintains his proud stance and determined gaze. “I am in love with her, Reece. I am not ashamed of it or sorry about it. She is an amazing woman.”

I clench my jaw. “I’m well aware of that fact.”

“I will treat her like my queen for the rest of our days.”

I let him squirm beneath the electric storm of my stare for a few seconds longer. But at last, I drop a quick but approving nod. “Keep it that way and we have no issues, man.”

“Yes, sir!”

I turn and walk back through the crowd, not exactly stress-free about the encounter but damn euphoric that Mom has found the happiness she deserves. I believe every word Fershan just said. He’s an upright guy who’s never let me down. And who the hell am I to be throwing rocks at glass houses when it comes to normalcy? One look back at my son, who’s pushing the limits by jumping way higher than a “two-year-old” should, pounds in that one with solid meaning.

I keep walking.

Seeking out the one person who’ll restore the calm to my bloodstream. Who’ll re-center my careening thoughts as no one else can.

But Emma’s not at the head table, at the bar, or in the ladies’ room. I know this because Lydia’s returned to Foley’s side, but my wife hasn’t reappeared with her.

I keep looking.

The wedding venue is filled with lots of patios, breezeways, and alcoves fit for chatting. She’s not in any of those either—though at last I route her out, lingering on a little porch on the back side of the kitchen. Her light sweater is draped over her shoulders. There’s a thoughtful, faraway look in her eyes…and an entrancing, ethereal beauty in her profile.

And just like that, all my air is gone again.

Along with every thought or care or concern in my head. Yeah, even the upheaval over imagining my mother and Fershan Bennett in ways I never anticipated.

In this quiet twilight moment, there’s only the perfect force of her. The one who’s given magic to my world, pure light to my existence.

Holy God, how I love this person.

I walk up quietly, though the little shiver down her form is a damn good indication that she’s already aware of me. This knowledge we have of each other…this surreal awareness…it’s only gotten stronger during our months of freedom from Faline and the Consortium, and I couldn’t be happier.

It’s so good. It’s so perfect. It’s so us.

As destiny has dictated.

As my soul newly promises.

“Wow,” I finally deadpan. “Killer view you got here.” Which is basically…a parking lot. Then a small strip of the lavender and aqua marina waters. Then…another parking lot.

“Right?” she snarks in return. “But it’s quiet, at least.”

“And you’re feeling the need for quiet?” My gentle prompt is hardly necessary. No matter what we’ve been through together, secrets have never worked well for us. Even surprise birthday gifts, like the sex swing she bought me last month, have a tendency to do shit like take out half the ceiling when put into motion. That was the night we both almost ended up in traction…

I almost laugh out loud about that now but instead jump on the excuse to again suckle her nape. Filling my senses with the vanilla smoke from the tea lights along the rail, as well as my wife’s honeysuckle sweetness, is the boost I need to utter my chunk of truth.

“So…I just told Fershan he could court my mom.”

At once, Emma bursts into a long giggle. I put up with her mirth, simply happy I’ve given her a reason to be laughing so hard.

Okay, really hard.

At last, she settles enough to say, “Well, first of all, it’s about freaking time. And secondly, dude…you said he could court her?”

I clear my throat. “Fine. I probably sounded like some crusty old king about it.”

She laughs again—not as long or as loud, thank fuck—before leaning back to cuddle our bodies closer. “Well, you’re my crusty old king, so that’s all right.”

I unfurl a savoring growl into her hair. “Crusty old kings are also known for protecting their own. With swords and guns and even lightning bolts.”