Page 42 of Not His Bride

Erik accepts Phillip’s revised statement. “Thank you.”

Our daughter appears at his side next. “Up.”

He lasts maybe two seconds before bending and lifting her. She adamantly tries to stick something to the front of his shirt.

He catches her wrist. “What is that?”

“Sticker.”

His expression tightens before he sighs and lets her press a glittery purple star directly onto his shirt.

I grin. There was a time I would’ve paid good money to see Phillip Jovi carrying a three-year-old with a glitter sticker stuck to his chest. Now it happens often enough that nobody even reaches for a camera.

Since it’s Saturday, the Jovis are taking the kids to the park, giving Lilith and me much-needed alone time.

Getting three children out of the house takes another twenty minutes.

Erik can’t find one of his shoes. Raven changes her mind twice about which jacket she wants, despite it being warm enough that she probably doesn’t need one at all. Denali screams when Tammy tries to put her into the stroller, then screams harder when Tammy takes her back out.

Eventually, though, Phillip has Erik by the hand, while Erik and Raven argue about whether ducks can eat chocolate chip cookies, and Tammy gets Denali settled against her hip.

“Two hours,” Lilith tells her mother from the doorway.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Erik waves at us from the sidewalk. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!”

I close the door. Lilith and I stand there for a second.

“Holy shit,” I say.

She laughs. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I can hear the refrigerator.”

“Enjoy it while you can.”

“Gumby, buddy, it’s safe!” I teasingly yell.

She turns toward the kitchen, but I catch her around the waist before she gets more than two steps.

Lilith lets out a surprised laugh when I pull her backward to me. I lower my mouth to the side of her neck.

Our marriage has taught me exactly where to kiss her when I want her to forget about whatever it is she’s overthinking. Right below her ear works almost every time. Today is no exception.

Her head tilts slightly, giving me more room, and I smile against her skin before kissing her there again.

“You’re obnoxious,” she murmurs.

“Yet you still married me twice.”

“Hmm.”

I turn her around in my arms. Lilith places both hands on my chest. I know every version of this woman now. Like what she looks like half asleep with her face buried in my pillow. How when she’s furious enough, she stops using contractions. I’ve seen what she looks like holding one of our babies for the first time, and what she looks like after three hours of sleep when that baby refuses to stop crying. I’ve watched her walk into rooms full of people who once overlooked her and make every one of them pay attention.

I slide one hand into her hair and kiss her. Lilith kisses me back without hesitation. There’s nothing gentle about it. Her arms loop around my neck, and I tighten mine around her waist until there isn’t any space between us. She rises onto her toes and presses closer, and suddenly I’m very grateful her parents decided the children needed fresh air.

I back her toward the kitchen island. She bumps into it and laughs. “Smooth.”