All Things Pretty, Part Two (Pretty #3.5)(20)
Author: M. Leighton

“You ready?”  Reese asks.

Dumb ass.  You can see that he is.

“Are you kidding?  I’m finally getting to make the girl of my dreams mine forever.  I’ve waited my whole life for this day.”

“That’s all fine and good, but just remember that if you make her cry, you’ll be running for the rest of that life,” I add.  Not that I think Hemi would hurt my sister. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love.  But still, she’s my sister.  The only one I’ve got.  I’ll gladly hunt him down if he hurt her.

Hemi claps me on the shoulder, his expression sincere.  “I’d rather cut off my own damn arm than to see her sad for even a day.  I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she’s the happiest woman in the world.”

We nod at each other, both understanding how important Sloane is to the other, and we turn to line up at the door.  As we stand waiting, there are smiles all around, slaps on the back, playful remarks about wedding nights and how Hemi got the bride knocked up too soon.  It puts me at ease, reminds me of how rich and full life can be when you’re surrounded by people you love.  And when you find the right person to share it all with.  I found that.  Even though I wasn’t looking for it, I found it.  I found her.

I shake off my thoughts and focus as the door swings open.  Quietly, we step out in order.  Me, Leif, Reese and then Hemi.  As soon as we are in place, the minister nods to the small string orchestra that sits off to one side of the front of the church.  They play a pretty song. I’m not familiar with it, of course. I’m a dude. I have balls.  It’s not like I’ve been to many weddings. But whatever it is, it seems to suit a day like this.

I watch the back of the room, my eyes trained on the door.  My heart is hammering in my chest like it’s me who’s getting married. I probably won’t ever get used to the feeling. But then again, that’s probably a good thing.

At the back of the church, the two ushers left pull open the doors and there, standing like a gorgeous, golden angel, is Tommi.  Tia, I correct.

Tia is her name, but in my mind, I still often think of her as Tommi.  That’s the name I had for the girl I fell in love with, right up until I learned who she really is.  The only thing that changed was her name. Now it’s Tia.  I just have to get used to it. But she’s still my Tommi.  The love of my life.  And the main thing, the most important thing, is that I can call her mine.  I don’t give a damn about the rest.

Her hair is piled up on her head in that style that I love.  Her skin looks like cream silk against the dark rose-colored dress she’s wearing. And on her face, the beautiful smile that I never get tired of.  I used to wonder when I’d see it, the genuine smile. She didn’t use it much when we first met. But now, ever since she woke up in the hospital recovering from her accident with the razor, she’s hardly taken it off. And that’s fine by me.

I think back to how she explained her…happiness when she was finally discharged and I got to take her home.

We were lying in bed together, her head resting on my chest, one of her legs thrown over mine.  She was drawing circles around my nipple.  She had bet me that she could make me hard doing that. I had bet her that she couldn’t.  I lost.  But she cheated.

Anyway, she was telling me about how she felt.  “It’s like part of me died that night.”

My chest got tight then. Like it gets tight now.  Just the thought of her not being here, of living my life without her…I can’t even picture it. Hell, I don’t even want to try.

“After you picked me up, when I really realized what I’d done, I promised God that if He’d help me through it, give me yet another second chance, I’d live every day like it’s my last.  That I wouldn’t let the past tarnish one second of my future. Not one single second.  Even then, though, I wondered how I could ever let it go so completely.  But when I woke up in the hospital, saw you asleep with your head resting on your hand where it held mine, it was like everything that happened was just…gone.  Almost like it never was.  I think I bled out that night.  Bled out all the bad, all the shame and bitterness. All the hurt and darkness.  And the emptiness that should’ve been left behind wasn’t emptiness at all.  It was a fullness, a place that only had room for the good.  You.  Travis. Momma.”

She brought those big eyes up to mine that night, tears sparkling in them.  “I’d die all over again if it meant coming alive to you.  To us. To this.  I never thought I’d be this happy.  It makes all that we went through, all that we sacrificed worth it.”

“I’m glad, baby, but don’t even talk about dying.  I don’t think you know how hard it was for me to see you that way, for me to wait by the bed for those hours, praying that you’d wake up.”

“I can only imagine.  I’m so sorry, Sig,” she told me, burying her face against my chest.

“Don’t apologize. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.  And when the doctor explained that you were suffering from severe depression and post-traumatic stress after everything that happened, I realized that you weren’t trying to leave me. You were only trying to make the pain go away. I’m just glad that it went, but left you with me.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead and heard her soft reply. “I am, too.  I never want to be apart from you.  Ever.  Not for even a day.”

“Well, I have to work, you know.”

“Then I’ll come with you. What do you think they’d say about a criminal working at the police station?”

She said it jokingly, but I didn’t think it was funny.  I didn’t want her to feel that way, like a criminal.  Like she’s somehow less.

“You aren’t a criminal.  A court of law determined that what you did was an act of self-defense. You feared for your own life and that of your family. Period.  Anyone else would’ve done the same thing.”  I reached down to turn her face up to mine.  “Don’t you understand that I’d kill for you?  I’ll kill a hundred men. A thousand, if I had to.  I’d kill for you, die for you. I’d do anything for you.”

“Well, let’s hope it never comes to that,” she said lightly, which I knew would lead to a change in subject. She never likes talking about that stuff too long.  And I never try to make her.