Page 95 of Inevitable Inheritance

“Taylor, repeat after me: ‘I, Taylor Preston, take you, Derrick Fletcher, to be my lawfully wedded husband.’”

Taylor repeated the words and made the promises and looked at Derrick. She felt slightly lighter as she made the vows. She hoped it meant that what she was doing was not a horrible mistake. Derrick looked very unsure as she repeated the words to him, and when it was his turn to say the vows, she nodded and kept her eyes on him as he repeated them to her.

He claimed to have wanted this, claimed she was all he had wanted, but somehow it didn’t look like that was the case now, and that made Taylor very nervous.

“I know you two are without rings, but that portion can be revisited, so I will get to it. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Derrick, you may kiss your bride,” Judge Thompson concluded.

Derrick put his hands gently on Taylor’s face and pulled her in to him, stopping with his lips against hers. “I love you, Taylor,” he said and then gentle pushed his mouth against hers.

His lips were soft, and Taylor absorbed the sensation, losing herself in it like she did every time Derrick kissed her. Because it was easier than realizing she was now a married woman.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Simon diedforty-seven minutes after Derrick and Taylor made their wedding official.

Marty turned into an absolute puddle when Simon heaved out one last sigh and did not take another in.

“Daddy. Daddy! No, Daddy!”

Derrick and Taylor let her cry and hold her father until she just about collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.

“We have to get her home,” Derrick said, grabbing her under her arms and pulling her up. “Rog, can you take her back home?”

“I will take her home, Mr. Fletcher,” Henry said, coming forward. He took Marty from Derrick’s arms. Derrick said nothing, but Taylor couldn’t help thinking it was odd. “Roger, will you accompany Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher home?”

“Absolutely,” Rog replied.

Taylor couldn’t stop wondering if she was the only one who thought it was weird that Henry was taking charge of Marty and leaving someone else with her and Derrick. Whatever. Taylor was just glad Derrick was too preoccupied to notice. It seemed whatever Henry did rubbed him the wrong way.

“Derrick, do you want some time alone with him?” Taylor asked. Marty hadn’t wanted to be alone with him once he had passed. She had made that clear to Taylor earlier, but Derrick hadn’t had the chance.

“Yes,” he said. His voice was flat, and his face matched his tone.

“Okay, let me give you some time—”

His arm struck out like a snake and grabbed onto Taylor’s wrist. “Please stay with me,” he said, his voice low, and shifted his eyes to the security detail they had been left with.

“You want me to have them go?” Taylor asked him, and Derrick nodded, sliding his hand to her hand and squeezing it.

Taylor walked over to Rog. “Hey, Rog,” she said and noticed sadness masking his face. “Would you like a moment with Mr. Fletcher?” she asked him.

The large man hesitated. “I, uh, I don’t want to interfere with young Mr. Fletcher’s time.”

“It’s okay, Rog, take your time,” Derrick said, crossing the room and coming to stand next to Taylor.

Rog nodded and crossed the room to the peacefully resting Simon. “Thank you, Si. You are the best. Rest well, my friend.” Rog reached down and squeezed Simon’s lax hand and then turned to Taylor and Derrick. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. I will wait for you both outside.”

A wave of something shook Taylor every time someone called her Mrs. Fletcher, and she couldn’t place the feeling. Nerves? Guilt? Impending doom? She really couldn’t say for sure.

Taylor and Derrick remained rooted in the same spot across the room when Rog went out and latched the door shut.

“Derrick,” Taylor said. She was looking at him, and he was just looking out the window, but the shade was drawn, so essentially he was looking at nothing. He didn’t respond.

“Derrick, come on,” she said. She didn’t want to force him or pull him, but she wanted to make sure he heard her and that it was okay for him to move.

Finally he nodded and walked over to his father’s bedside, his hand glued to Taylor’s. He grabbed a chair and offered it to Taylor. “No, I’m good. You sit,” she said, he looked like he could use it more.

Derrick let go of her hand, sat, and just looked at his father for a while. “Oh God, Dad,” he said and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and then he rubbed them down his face. He sat with his arms crossed and resting on his knees for a long time, just looking over Simon. Suddenly Derrick got up with a growl and kicked the chair, sending it flying across the room, crashing into the radiator, and splintering into pieces.

---