Page 62 of Theirs to Treasure
Where it will remain forever if it’s up to him.
Because I’d been unable to compose my own vows, Zev wrote them for me. When it’s my turn to speak, I hand off my flowers to Amelia, and he slips a small piece of paper into my hand.
Thankfully, mine read much the same as Forrest’s. My promises are about obligation, not genuine affection.
Because our ceremony is a little unconventional, Amelia offers me the first of two rings.
That one, I slip onto Zev’s finger, and I raise on my tiptoes to kiss his mouth. If it wasn’t for him, I’m not sure I could have gone through with this.
Then I slide the second band onto the finger of the man who is now legally my husband.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Hungrily, deeply, as if we were alone, Forrest kisses me, leaving me weak with the promise of what will happen later that evening.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” The minister addresses the sparse congregation, “May I present Mr. And Mrs. Donnelly?”
The words almost make me swoon.
“Mrs. Donnelly,” Forrest repeats, for my ears only.
I swallow, looking into his dark, unreadable eyes.
Slowly he leans toward me. “I will never let you go.”
I’m unsure if that is a promise or a threat. But have no doubt I’m about to find out…
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Harper
After a small receiving line,my husbands take me to a reception that they’ve arranged at the Braes, their exclusive country club. The gorgeous setting, in the heart of Houston is so exclusive that I’d never heard of it. That seems a little odd since my family had supposedly moved in the same social circles as the Donnelly brothers.
Which again tells me how little I know about my own parents, and maybe how much of my mother’s narratives I’d bought into about our wealth.
In a private room, there’s an enormous buffet and an open bar, along with a string quartet.
A large cake sits off to one side with a silver knife near it. It smells of sugar and heaven, and I’m tempted to bypass my meal in favor of an enormous slice.
I wrinkle my nose.
Both of my men would put a stop to that before I took my first bite.
They take my health and well-being seriously. Which I appreciate. Except when I don’t. Which makes sense to me, somewhere in my pregnancy-addled brain.
The party is fancy for such a limited number of guests.
I’m tired and overwhelmed by the wedding and the changes in my life, so I’d have been happy to have just gone home to take a nap.
But this seems to matter to my grooms.
So I do what I’ve done my entire life: fulfill my social obligations, meeting and greeting the attendees.
With his hand on my back, Forrest guides me to a new arrival. “Altair Montgomery,” he says.
Mesmerized, I shake the man’s hand.
There’s something old-fashioned about him, with his cape and nearby cane, and I’m almost overcome by a need to curtsy to him.