Page 80 of Old-Fashioned

She answered immediately, “Whatcha need, girlfriend?”

I implored my voice not to crack as I asked, “Go get Abel. Please. It’s important.”

“Okay. One sec.”

And by the time I counted to forty-nine, there was a light knock on the bathroom door, and then it opened.

He looked so handsome in his black-on-black pants, shirt, and vest with his tie tucked in, and then I felt tears hit my eyes.

Abel was on his knees in an instant at my feet his hands cupping my face, worry etched in his features, and he asked, “What’s wrong, Baby girl?”

I looked down between my feet at where the four tests were resting and then I looked back into his eyes.

He followed my movements, and his eyes were on the pregnancy tests, softly, he whispered, “Two pink lines?”

I nodded.

“Two. Pink. Lines.”

I nodded.

And then he had me wrapped in his arms, his face in my neck and that was when I felt the tears fall, “We’re pregnant.”

He pulled his face from my neck, locked eyes with mine, and grinned, widely, “Fucking A. We’re fucking pregnant.”

Just then there was a knock on the door and Priscilla’s voice sounded, “Don’t mean to rush the two of you, but she’s gotta get ready.”

“Thanks, Priscilla.” I called out.

Abel lifted a brow at me, “You going to tell them?”

I shook my head, “No. Everyone is always in our business. I want this to be about you and me. Is that okay?”

He nodded, “Okay, I love you. Always.”

“I love you too.” I smiled.

An hour and a half later my arm was linked with Rich’s and he was walking me down the aisle towards my forever, who, yes, had tears in his eyes at the sight of me.

Baker kept eyeing Priscilla, but she was studiously ignoring him.

Both of my girls looked awesome in their sweetheart, violet dresses.

And the men in their black-on-black suits. But the other two had nothing on my Abel. Nothing.

Once I reached Abel, and the priest asked who gives this woman’s hand in marriage, I looked up at Rich, who looked down at me, winked, and said, “Miss Maggie, and I do.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and just then, I kid you not, a soft breeze blew over my skin.

I grinned, no longer able to hold the tears back.

And I was a watery mess, until Abel smiled down at me, used his thumbs, and wiped the tears away, “Now, let’s get married so I can love the fuck out of you for the next sixty-plus years.”

Laughter sounded from our close-knit family.

You would think only having twenty people at your wedding was a small number, but for us, it was utterly perfect.

What made the whole day magnificent, was the black velvet box, Hilda had handed me.