Page 62 of Patch's Bride
Patch swallows hard, and I can tell he’s struggling with his own emotions. He clears his throat and speaks.
“I knew from the second you came to my family for help that my life was never going to be the same. Granted, when we first got together it was to keep you safe. I’ll even admit that I alwayssaw you as too young. But after getting to know you, I realized that you were strong, intelligent, resourceful, and my equal in every way. The way you came up with comebacks on the spot when I tried to tease you blew my mind. The truth is, you never needed saving. You just needed someone to level the playing field for you, the same way every brother here has needed the club to back him up at one time or another. To say that I fell hard for you would be an understatement. You’re the only woman who’s ever really understood me and fit seamlessly into my life. I’m glad you chose me, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret that decision. I want you to know that I’ll never stop choosing you.”
Rigs nods slowly. “Well then. I’d say we’ve got unfinished business to settle.” He lifts his brow. “Do you, again, Patch, take Beth to be your wife?”
“I do.”
“And do you, again, Beth, take Patch to be your husband?”
“I do.”
“Then it’s my honor to say what we’ve all been waiting to hear. I now pronounce you husband and wife again. You may kiss your bride.”
Patch pulls me in and kisses me like he can seal our vows with his lips. My hands curl into his lapels. Just when I think maybe we should ease up on the public display of affection, his arms slide around my back, and he presses me closer. When the kiss deepens, everything else fades away.
Patch pulls back just enough to press his forehead to mine.
“Wife,” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I like the sound of that.”
The sound of clapping and cheering eventually breaks through the haze.
***
The morning slips into afternoon as the band starts another set. The long tables are loaded down with rented plates, glassware, and flatware, with fresh floral centerpieces and the wooden dance floor built just for today. A gigantic five-tiered cake takes up most of the dessert table. Our wedding is more than I ever dreamed possible, much less expected.
And Patch has barely left my side during the whole day. Anytime someone pulls him away, his eyes still drift back to me. It happens enough to make me blush.
We’ve already had our first dance. When the music started, he just reached for me. His hand found my waist, mine slid into his, and I found myself swept away in the moment.
Now it’s time to cut the cake. I can tell because Caroline motions us over to the cake table. I almost hate to cut it for two reasons. First, it was one of the most expensive parts of our wedding. And secondly, because it’s absolutely gorgeous. Five tiers of snow-white icing trimmed in pale yellow. It’s perfect for the lemon cake hidden within. We ordered a handmade topper of a bride and groom on either side of a little motorcycle. It’s simple but fits perfectly with our biker aesthetic.
The guests crowd around, as Caroline works around the photographer to get her own pictures on her cell phone. Siege nods to us from the front row with a crooked smile. Rider holds up his beer like he’s making a toast.
When I start to press down with the knife, his hand is still on mine.
“Wait,” he says quietly.
I freeze and glance over at him, confused. He steps in behind me and wraps both arms around my waist. One hand settles over the soft stretch of fabric just below my ribs, covering our unborn child. This is him telling everyone who doesn’t already know that we’re expecting. Quiet murmurs of approval can be heard around us.
His other hand covers mine, and he begins pressing down to cut the cake. He glances up at the photographer. “Get a picture of this. It’s going to go right into my wallet.”
I like the light, teasing tone of his voice. The crowd laughs at him being all possessive. Caroline shoots him a disapproving look, but we both know she’s secretly thrilled that now all her church friends know we have a baby on the way.
Patch leans close to my ear. “Do you know why I wanted this picture?”
“It’ll be the first one of the three of us,” I whisper back.
“That’s right. It’s a moment I want to remember.”
Together, we cut through the bottom tier, making slow, even pieces. The guests cheer. Someone whistles. Roxy yells for someone to save her a piece without frosting.
Patch helps me plate the first slice, then lifts the fork to feed me the first bite. And I let him because I know this is a respect thing for him. He wants to show me that I will always come first in his world. Then I pick the piece up and let him nibbleoff a bite. Cake smashing doesn’t really enter our minds because we’re not like that.
He kisses the side of my head. His hand stays over my belly, and we don’t rush the moment. We don’t move to the next thing. We just stand there, the two of us pressed together, as the caterers cut the rest of the cake and make sure everyone gets a generous piece, because what’s a wedding without cake?
***
