Hold On (Page 192)

He wrapped one around her and kissed her hair before he turned to the room, raised his glass, and finished.

“So toast with me, with my bride, to what real love means—care and safety and laughter and givin’ your baby shit when she’s bein’ a wiseass.”

Laughter and applause hit the room as Ethan lifted his glass.

Everyone lifted theirs.

Ethan shifted slightly, aiming his glass and his eyes at Garrett.

Garrett jerked up his chin.

His boy, now a man, now a husband, drank.

So did everyone else.

Then Ethan turned to his woman and kissed her.

Garrett did not drink.

Neither did Cher.

Because, while others were drinking, he was putting his hand to his woman’s jaw and turning her face his way.

Damn.

Pretty.

Even bawling.

His gaze roamed her wet cheeks before it caught hers.

“You’re such a girl,” he whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back.

He smiled at his wife.

Then he bent and took her mouth.