I bring my eyes back to a crying Spence. Real tears in his eyes, real boogers on his top lip. His hands shake as they cup my cheek, and his breath comes in hitching inhales that make it hard for me to breathe.
I step up onto my tiptoes in confirmation, and he takes that as permission to pull me closer and wrap an arm around my waist. He lifts me off my toes just an inch or so. He holds me tight, but he’s careful not to crush my chest against his.
In silence, he stares into my eyes; his, watery and sparkling. Mine, blind. I can’t stop my tears, and seeing he has his own make mine worse. I don’t want him to be sad. I don’t want him to hurt because of my stupid body.
Slowly, he lowers his head until our lips touch, then what I thought would be a sweet goodbye, turns to inconsolable sobs and an inability to breathe. I can’t let him go, but I can’t hold him hostage either. I can’t say goodbye, but I can’t force him into a relationship he had no intention of entering.
His tongue slides along my lip in a sweet caress. The sweetest, kindest caress that assures me that he still sees me as a woman, and not a sickly damsel. I don’t stop crying, but that doesn’t stop his lips consuming mine, his tongue tangling with mine, or his strong hand coming down to squeeze my butt until I gasp.
Someone in the room growls, but it doesn’t stop Spencer from showing me that my body is womanly even without touching my boobs. His hand molds my butt cheek. Slides over my hip. Tickles the small of my back. And then comes up to knot into the back of my hair and gently tugs.
I gasp from our broken kiss. I struggle to find my breath, but Spencer doesn’t have the same trouble. Instead, he gets angry.
“You are so seriously stupid if you think I’m leaving you because of a set of tits, Priss. I always knew you were high-maintenance. You seem to get off on making mountains out of molehills. I always knew you’d be prickly and rarely see logic. But you might wanna ask them to reinsert your brain tomorrow while they’re going in, because I think you lost it somewhere during the time I’ve been gone.”
“Spencer?” I look between his eyes, then scream when he picks me up and cradles me in his arms. “Spencer! Let me go.”
“Absolutely not. I will never let you go.” He leans in and kisses me again. He turns so my brothers get a front row seat to his tongue making use of every inch of my mouth, then he comes up for air and stares as though in dare. “Anyone got a problem with me and Abigail marrying?”
Beckett’s eyes nearly pop out of his face. Corey looks similar. But Nixon doesn’t seem quite as opposed. Mitchell, on the other hand, must hear Spencer’s question, because he comes sprinting back into the room like a bull charging for a red target.
“I have a problem! I oppose! I’m speaking now, motherfucker!”
“No, wait.” Troy steps forward and pulls Mitch back. “I’m listening.”
“Are you serious right now?” I swear, I fear Mitchell is going to literally explode any moment. “Are you fucking serious right now, Troy? You meet a guy two minutes ago, and you think you get a say?”
“I met this guyeight yearsago. He saved my life.” He fists Mitch’s collar and tugs him around to face him. “He literally saved my life and allowed me to come back to you punks.”
“What?” Stunned, I study Troy’s face, and then Spence’s. Though he doesn’t watch me. I only see the underside of his jaw while he watches my brothers. “Spencer?”
“It’s true,” Troy presses. “He saved my life and made it so I could come home. I’ve spent the last two months with him. Day in, day out. I didn’t know he was into my sister, so we’re gonna need to talk about that. But you know what he did every day that we were together? He was texting his girl, calling her, smiling about her. I offered him women like they were a tasty smorgasbord of treats.”
There he is, with another smorgasbord.
“But he said no every time. He wanted to talk to his good girl. He wanted to know how her day was going, and walked away from the shit I was doing in my spare time. And I’m just saying, the buffet was tasty as hell.”
“Troy!”
He waves me off, then meets Spencer’s eyes. “You have my blessing. Marry her, make her happy. Because I’ve never seen a man make her cry happy tears before you did just now.”
“Deal.” Spencer looks over the crowd, and lifts his chin toward Jay. “You’re up.”
“Yes!” Jay thrusts his fist into the air. “I knew my time was coming! Yes, motherfucker!” He pushes his way into the room without a single care for the angry men he shoves out of the way. “Do you, Abigail whatever-your-middle-name-is Rosa, take him to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, insickness,” he emphasizes, “and health? When you’re broke as fuck and have to eat ramen for dinner, or when the caviar is flying, and we bring you dinner anyway. Do you promise to make him happy and stop fretting about your boobs?”
“Um…”
“Awesome! Spencer Clarence Serrano. It sucks that’s your middle name, and now everyone knows it. Do you take Abigail gonna-be-Serrano-in-a-second to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health? Do you promise to take care of her when she can’t do it herself, knowing that she would do the same for you?” Jay takes my hand in his, and when Spencer lowers me to my feet, keeping his arm around my hips and offers the other, he takes that and encloses our circle. “Do you promise to love her forever, no matter what bullshit life throws at you? We know the shit is coming, so we prepare now, we work as a team, and we win this war like we’ve won every war before it.”
“I do.”
I choke. I feel the kiss pressed to my temple. The strong arm around my hips. The insane beat of my heart in my chest. But I choke, because he just said ‘I do’ directly after being askedthatquestion.
“Alrighty! By the power vested in me by this great state and my beautiful girlfriend that still hasn’t said yes to my many, and much better than Spence’s, proposals, I now pronounce you husband and wife. This is legit, so kiss your bride, man. Seal this shit up, because women are apt to run.”
“Umm…” I lean away to catch sight of Spencer.
This must be a joke. It has to be an insane joke, and I’m the idiot being punked. But when our eyes meet, he’s not laughing. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so serious in my life, and that includes when he was demanding answers from me not ten minutes ago.