Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Gone is the forbidding man who refused to acknowledge my existence.
In his place, there’s a man who’s grown into someone warm and wonderful.
Someone who used to hide his kindness and now wears it openly for all to see and love just as much as I do.
That intensity almost makes it hard to hold his eyes as Gran escorts me up the aisle to his side, but I can’t look away.
As Grandma guides me to my place, I feel so right.
No more nerves.
But I have to stifle a giggle as Grandma Jackie pats his arm, leans in, and whispers to him.
“Don’t you dare fuck this up, young man.”
I choke back a sound. I don’t think she’s ever said fuck before in her life.
August’s eyes widen, and he stares after her as she struts over to the rest of the bridal party and takes her place with a smug look.
“You heard her,” I whisper, grinning. “Don’t screw it up.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he whispers back, his lips twitching. “Also, when I agreed to the punk theme,” he says through his teeth, “I didn’t think you’d make me wear a pink cummerbund.”
I reach up to flick that unruly strand of hair. “The bride and groom should match.”
“Everybody ready?” the priest whispers.
We both nod so quickly we look like those little dashboard dolls, only to catch each other’s eyes and realize what we’re doing.
We grin while the priest begins.
Before, we’d talked about writing custom vows. But in the end, we agreed not to because the letters we write to each other are for us alone.
Not to share with the world.
It started with the letter where he confessed his feelings.
Then it turned into me missing him at the office one day and leaving him a little letter written on a bit of sketch paper with a smile and a heart from Kiki, waiting in his office.
Him reminding me he had to go in early for an investor meeting and couldn’t stay in bed with me, so I found a note on my pillow reminding me not to burn the kitchen down while I was warming up the breakfast he’d made—and he loved me, don’t burn the kitchen down (again), don’t slip off the deck and drown; oh, and be naked when he came home.
Horny grump.
Over and over, we traded little love notes.
Some silly. Some sweet. Some downright filthy, and it’s kind of our thing now.
I’ve kept every single one.
Even if they’re for my eyes only.
And even if we’ve both bloomed with each other’s love, there are some parts of us that are just for us.
But this, here and now, it’s for us and everybody else.
Everything we’re proud to show and prouder to say.
“I do.”
Eyes never leaving each other, hearts beating as one.
You may now kiss the bride.
Screw that.
I’m kissing my groom.
As the crowd bursts into wild applause and cheers so wildly they send my heart soaring, I fling myself into August’s arms, drag him down, and kiss him like the plane is going down.
The Mr. Marshall to my Mrs. Marshall.
I’ve never felt more perfect, more wonderful, more bright.
His mouth claims mine, and this kiss becomes the dawn breaking on my first day as his wife.
The very first day of the rest of our lives.
Together forever.
And as we’ve written our story, so it must be.
Epilogue
(AUGUST)
Years later
“And when she went home,” I read, slowly and softly, careful not to raise my voice too high, “Kiki’s grandmother was there with a nice cup of eucalyptus tea to relax her after a long day. And Kiki was proud and happy, because she’d helped the Platypus Twins be friends with Gruffykins the Owl once again.”
The only answer is a burbling sigh.
My newborn daughter—our newborn daughter—squirms in her swaddling, smacking her lips adorably in her sleep as she turns her face into the crook of her arm.
I carefully close the cover of Kiki the Koala: Mending Fences and set the book aside, lightly flexing my ankles to make the rocking chair sway a little. Giselle settles quietly at the swaying, out like a light, with one fist half in her mouth.
My sweet, perfect little goober.
My darling baby daughter, with her tiny fingers and her button nose and her little fluff of wild strawberry blonde hair, just like her mother’s.
She’s already as amazing as her mother too.
As I look down at our little girl sleeping so soundly, so trustingly in my arms, my heart runs the fuck over.
I’m filled with so much love I almost find myself choking back tears.
Yeah, this daddy thing does that, turning even the toughest guys into great big saps.
When I first took over Little Key, I didn’t have the slightest clue what to do with children. They didn’t matter to me at all beyond being a distant target demographic. Little Key was Aunt Clara’s legacy, and I was just there to handle the money and legal matters.