“I’ll never let you go that long without sex again,” she teased.
I rolled my eyes.
Royal had been scared when I’d been hurt, and she’d made me stick to the two weeks of mandatory rest that I’d been given by the doctor.
Which. Had. Sucked.
Royally.
I pulled her into my arms and walked her into the bathroom, turning the shower on the moment we arrived.
“Shower with me,” I whispered.
And she did, her smile soft as we both worked quickly to wash each other off.
But when we got out and she tried to cop a feel, I stopped her by going down onto one knee.
At first she thought that I was just helping her dry off.
But then I pulled the ring off of the back of the toilet and held it up for her to see.
“Royal,” I said, making her breath hitch. “I know that we’ve been together for a very short time. I also know that you’re scared.” I paused. “And I know that you love me.”
She started to cry.
“Royal St. James,” I said. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife…and dropping that fucking awful last name and becoming a Rector?”
She beamed a beautiful smile.
Then said two words that I would cherish for the rest of my life.
“I will.”
I got my first official ‘I love you’ on our wedding day as the preacher pronounced us husband and wife.
I got my second the day she realized, a year into our relationship, that I wasn’t letting her go—no matter what.
I got my 5737th when she delivered our first-born child.
The 8588th when she delivered our second.
And yes, I kept counting.
Because every ‘I love you’ that came from Royal’s mouth was special.
Every. Single. One of them.Epilogue
I wish girls who wanted boobs and girls who didn’t want as much boob could do a transfer like we can do with Venmo.
-Text from Royal to Justice
Justice
“Swing me, Daddy!” my son ordered loudly.
I swung him around and around in my arms, putting him down after a shit ton of rotations only to laugh when he tried to take a step and fall straight onto his ass.
“My turn!” came my baby girl’s order.
She was much harder to do, seeing as she was twice the size of my son. She may be older, but she was still my baby girl.
But I managed to make it work.
She wasn’t nearly as gangly as my son, but she still wobbled a bit.
“Your children are wild,” my father said to me, coming to a stop with a beer in his hand and pointing at my kids.
I looked over at him and grinned. “They’re wild because you let them run wild.”
Dad shrugged. “It’s good to be a kid. Great, actually. You won’t raise one of those little pussies that…”
A smacking sound came from my father’s side.
“Don’t finish that sentence,” my mother interjected. “It’s okay for a child not to be wild. They still grow up to be okay.”
Dad nodded his head in Royal’s direction.
Royal who was riding a skateboard down the long length of my parents’ driveway.
She was pretty good at the skateboarding thing now. I’d gotten her one for her birthday that first year we’d met.
When she’d told me that she’d never gotten to do the things that normal kids got to do, I’d felt bad for her and had tried to change that.
Her father was still an asshole.
And had yet to meet either of his grandkids.
Not that I was complaining.
I was giving Royal everything out of life that parents usually got the gift of giving.
I’d taken her to the movies. I bought her a skateboard. I bought her a bike. We hiked, hunted, and fished. Hell, if we could do it and get back to work in time the next day, we did it.
Even now, our family was rambunctious and fun, and there was never a dull moment.
“What’s a pussy?”
Before I could say anything to her question, though, she was there.
Luckily, she hadn’t heard our daughter’s question.
Royal came up to me, cheeks flushed, and threw her arms around my neck.
“I’m going to get ready to go eat,” she said. “I have to take a shower, blow dry my hair, and then put some makeup on. Then we can go.”
I grinned and planted my mouth onto hers, tasting the unique taste that was Royal.
“What about clothes?” I asked. “Because those aren’t really optional. And you didn’t mention them.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I’ll make sure to fit that part in, since you mentioned it,” she teased.
I nipped her lip and set her back. “See you in a bit.”
“Daddy!” my girl, Jane, called. “Come look at this big spider!”
***
Royal
My baby girl was just like her daddy. Where I couldn’t stand the sight of bugs—they were gross, what could I say?—she loved to point them out and play with them. Justice, however, could handle just about everything—even spiders.
Leaving my eight-year-old in the capable hands of my husband and his parents, I headed inside.