Page 8 of With You

“Sorry,” I say quickly.

He smiles and shrugs. “It’s your show, man, take all the time you need.”

Uncharacteristically, I find myself shaking my legs and arms out, like I’m warming up for a race. It has all our guests chuckling and Deacon smiling at me, unperturbed, taking me as I am, in any moment.

“Do we think I can say these without crying?” I ask jokingly, knowing it’ll be very much impossible.

Deacon offers me a smirk. “It’d be nice if I’m not the only one.”

Slipping my hand inside my jacket, I pull a folded post-it note from the inside pocket, open it, and scan the words scrawled on there in my messy handwriting.

Quickly, I fold it back up and then slip it inside Deacon’s suit jacket instead of mine. In a swift movement, he grabs my hand, brushing his lips across the back before pressing a kiss to my skin.

Even with the softest touch, electricity races through me, never tiring of the affection this man effortlessly showers me with.

He guides our hands between us and we interlace our fingers, my gaze getting caught on my wedding band sitting beautifully between us.

Staring at the sight a little too long, I eventually clear my throat and bring my gaze back to Deacon’s. My broody man is no longer broody, not today anyway. The lightness in his blue eyes unmissable, his smile soft, his expression at ease.

“Deacon,” I breathe out. “You were under my skin before I even knew it. You took care of me before either of us knew that’s what you were doing or what it even meant.”

My hands tighten in his as my eyes well with tears. “You say I’m the protector, but you always protect me. You aren’t a fighter by nature, but time and time again I have seen you fight for us.” The handle I have on my emotions slowly starts to slip, the shake in my voice evidence. “You have sacrificed for us,” I manage to breathe out. “You have lost because of us.”

Quickly, I raise my arm and slide my face against the material, trying to catch tears before they fall.

“And I know there have been times it’s been bittersweet and painful,” I continue. “But you make sure I know our life together is worth it.

“There aren’t enough words in the English language to convey just how grateful I am for you choosing me, for loving me and allowing me to love you.” I bring our interlaced hands to my lips and kiss his fingers. “You continue to be the steady rhythmof my heartbeat. You are worthy and you are special, and I’ve never been more grateful to call someone mine.”

In my peripheral I see Wade holding out Deacon’s ring, waiting for me to take it. When I have the circle-shaped jewelry in between my fingers, I stretch and straighten Deacon’s hand and then slide the ring down.

“I promise to love you always and unconditionally,” I tell him. “In the good times and the bad times. But I promise to love you the most when we’re knee deep, too busy, and messily wading through everything in between.

“I love you, Deacon. You own me,” I choke out. “My heart is yours till the day you say you don’t want it anymore.”

And just like all those years ago, Deacon shakes his head, face streaked with tears. Stepping closer to me, he raises his hands to cradle my face.

“Never,” he says hoarsely. “I will never not want you.”

Beyond impatient, my own hands mirror his and I bring him to my waiting mouth. Relief sweeps through me as his lips meld to mine, the kiss a sweet, relaxed exhale.

Somewhere in the background I hear Wade announce us as husbands, and all our friends and family cheering in unison, but all I can focus on is him.

All Iwantto focus on is him.

Settling into the kiss, I don’t care if it’s supposed to be a peck or if everyone gets tired of watching. I drop my hands from his face and wrap my arms around his neck. On instinct, Deacon’s arms circle my waist, our bodies now flush against one another.

The kiss picks up in pace, soft and gentle morphing into deep and determined. It’s our past and our present and our future. It’s the flutter of anticipation in my stomach, and the heat swimming in my veins. It’s every exchanged promise, every loud declaration, every hard earned moment of our love.

It’s him and me.

Julian and Deacon.

“Husbands,” he murmurs against my lips.

Smiling, I echo, “Husbands.”

DEACON

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