Page 22 of Baby Makes 3

“How about soup and salad for dinner?” he asks. “I’m not very hungry. What about you?”

“That sounds good, especially if you add garlic bread into the mix.”

“I think I can manage that.” He continues rubbing the soles of my feet.

Suddenly, I’m not hungry at all, at least not for food. I pull my feet off his lap and straddle him.

He threads his fingers through my hair.

I lean close, pressing my chest to his. Then I kiss him. He doesn’t need any encouragement to deepen the kiss as he slides his hands down my sides to my waist, then around to cup the cheeks of my ass.

“New plan. How about we postpone dinner?” He presses his growing erection against me. “Suddenly I’m hungry for something else entirely.”

Feeling the heat and strength of him between my legs instantly creates a pulsing ache deep inside me.

He’s a real-life hero.It’s such a turn-on.

I slide to the floor and kneel between his legs. “I’m hungry for something else, too,” I say as I reach for the fastener of his jeans. Carefully, I slide the zipper down and give him something entirely different to think about.

Chapter 10 – Jamie

“I, James Edward McIntyre, take thee, Molly Ann Ferguson, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

My brothers and dad are standing with me at the front of the great room at Shane’s Kenilworth estate. Molly’s standing in front of me, and I’ve got a death grip on both of her hands. Daniel Cooper is officiating.

Molly looks stunning in an ivory silk wedding dress. I know this because everyone in this room has told me so. Her long dark hair is twisted up into a fancy topknot, with loose, curling tendrils hanging down. There are sprigs of tiny white flowers tucked into her hair.

I would give anything to be able to see her for myself. Over the years, I’ve come to terms with my blindness. I’ve accepted it, and I don’t ever let it hold me back. But right now—not being able to see my bride at our own wedding—it’s hard. I’m trying to shove the sorrow away, the feeling of loss, but it’s difficult to ignore when it lodges in my throat like a rock.

Molly squeezes my hands, a signal that she knows I’m struggling.

“I, Molly Ann Ferguson, take thee, James Edward McIntyre, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

After we recite our vows, Cooper’s deep voice rings out clearly. “By the powers invested in me by the great state of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, that’s your cue. You can kiss her now.”

Our family and friends seated in rows of folding chairs chuckle as I pull Molly into my arms and kiss the daylights out of her. I’ve waited a long time for this day. It took some doing to get her to this point.She had reservations.Not reservations aboutus as a couple, but reservations stemming from her history of breast cancer and her mastectomies. And then the infertility issues arose, which didn’t help the situation in her mind. But I was patient as I eliminated her concerns, one by one.

And now, we’re husband and wife.

Molly is the first one to pull away from our grand public kiss. I don’t let her go far, though. I keep hold of her hand as we’re bombarded by the wedding party. My brothers and dad are my groomsmen. My sisters and Molly’s friend Chloe make up the bridal party.

“Oh, honey,” my mom says as she steps up to hug me. Her voice is shaky. I can tell she’s been crying. “I’m so happy for you, Jamie. You, too, Molly.” Mom lets me go, and I hear her hugging Molly. “You’re officially part of the family now,” Mom tells her. “You’re one of my girls.”

Molly’s parents come to congratulate us, and then friends and the rest of the family all stop to give us their best wishes.

Next comes the cake. Molly describes the cake to me right before we cut into it. We feed each other small bites, neatly, mind you. No face slamming of cake. Then we sit down at the assembled tables to eat proper slices while the catering staff serve our guests.

Gina Capelli is the one responsible for the delicious wedding cake, as well as for the hot appetizers. My dad, Jake, and Cooper man the bar, serving beer, wine, and cocktails. Pretty much everyone is spending the night here, so the alcohol is flowing freely.

Our photographer has been making her rounds through the great room, snapping candid photos of our family and friends. While our guests are eating, the photographer takes pictures of the wedding party and our families.

After everyone’s had cake, Sophie instructs Molly to stand at the front of the room for the bouquet toss. I’m standing on thesidelines with Shane and the guys as Molly tosses the flowers to the waiting ladies.

There’s an audible cheer as someone catches the bouquet, followed by lots of excited voices.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Shane says.

“Who caught it?” I ask.

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