Page 76 of Stowaway Whirlwind
Amanda nods, her body trembling as she chokes on a cry. “That’s why I didn’t want children. I’m so scared…” She splays her palm on her belly. “What if I lose this one, too?”
Roman grabs her by the shoulders and smashes her to his chest, winding one hand behind her back and cradling her head with the other. “No. You can’t think that way, Mandy. And what happened in high school—I would have supported you, no matter what you wanted to do. I’ve always loved you. Would have stood by you if I’d known.” His voice cracks when he says, “I wish you would have told me.”
Amanda breaks down in his arms, and I figure it’s time I give them their privacy to work this out, which I know they will. They’re soulmates, just like Goldie and me. Like all the other wonderful couples we know, including…
I clap Russell on his shoulder when I spot him after exiting the hallway. He’s cleaned up nicer than I’ve ever seen, wearing a navy suit and actual dress shoes instead of boots. I lean in to bark, “Get your head out of your ass before you get any older, old man.”
“The fuck?” He rounds on me, yanking his hands out of his pockets and fisting them at his sides.
I nod to Layla, who is dancing with Goldie, Dolly, Violet, and Faye in the middle of the dance floor, passing Lily, William, and Weston around as they loudly singAny Man of Mineby Shania Twain, which is an interesting song to play at a wedding. Then I nod to the group of firefighters who are standing opposite, watching the women as well. Among the ladies dancing, there’s only one who is still single, so—if they’re smart and don’t want to die—that means there’s only one they’ve got their eyes on.
“Get to it before someone else gets there before you,” I tell him.
Russell clenches his jaw, and I leave him with a wink before I twirl my wife away in my arms, her dad’s envelope burning a hole in my back pocket that I’ll give to her later when we’re alone. It contains a printout of the payment plan he’s set up to pay off Goldie’s hospital bill, as well as a photocopy of acertificate of completion from rehab. There’s still a lot for him to make up for, but it’s an amazing start to possibly re-building their relationship…though there’s still only one man she’ll be allowed to callDaddy, and it’s not him.
“What’s that look for?” Goldie asks.
“Just thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you moan for Daddy tonight, Mrs. Freeman.”
Goldie steps back. “Tonight?”
I nod and discreetly readjust my dick.
My wife takes another step back and gives me a sly grin. “Why wait for tonight?” She spins and picks up the skirt of her dress. She tears across the venue, pushing between our guests on the dance floor and around the packed dining tables, everyone hooting and hollering as I give chase.
Chapter 27
Goldie
My stomach churns throughout the drivewithout Lily—who we’re paying Layla to babysit at our house for the three nights we’ll be away—to the hotel we booked just outside of Fort Worth for our honeymoon, and I don’t think it has anything to do with my pregnancy.
Davis squeezes my hand and keeps flicking his eyes toward me every few minutes before returning to the highway. “You ok over there?”
I nod and swallow. “I’m fine.” I give him a weak smile, my hair still a rat’s nest after Davis caught up to me and pushed me down on my back in the gazebo by the lake to eat my pussy.
“You’re sweating, honey.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I pull my hand away to wipe it on my wedding dress.
“Morning sickness?”
I part my lips, panting shallowly as I hold myself around my middle. A tear slips out as I shake my head, turning to stare out the dark window at the blur of trees and open fields, stars glittering in the clear sky.
We’re silent for a few minutes until Davis takes the next exit but doesn’t stop at the gas station on the corner, where I’dassumed he was heading to gas up the Ford. You’d never guess it had been through a high-speed chase or been rammed into by a deputy after Davis had it taken to a body shop and returned to its former glory. The same can’t be said for the Buick, which Davis replaced with the newer Ford Explorer I picked out and claimed for myself.
Two left turns, and we’re back on the highway, pointed home.
My breath hitches. “What are you doing?”
He clutches his chest. “I’m not feeling so great either.” He gives me a wink. “Heartburn.”
“Do you need an antacid? I think there’s some in the glove compartment.” I pick through it, producing the bottle of antacids and popping the top open to shake out two tablets.
He puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes. “Nope. Different kind of heartburn.”
And then I get it, my smile growing stronger as my nausea abates, the same as his heartburn, as Davis picks up speed.
Davis
