The Tycoon's Temporary Baby(65)
“Oh.” She cringed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you with nothing—”
“Then don’t leave me with nothing,” he interjected. “Don’t you get it? If you leave at all, you leave me with nothing.”
The tightness in her chest loosened a little. “Go on,” she prodded.
“I don’t know, maybe your wacky theory about me leaving my family is right. Maybe I have never forgiven myself for walking away from my family. And maybe that’s why I haven’t married before now. But that’s not why I married you.”
She finally let herself meet his gaze. The naked emotion she saw there stripped her breath away. But just seeing it wasn’t enough. She needed to hear it. She needed him to say it aloud. “Okay, then. Why did you marry me?”
“Why do you think I married you?” he countered.
“If it was enough for me to just intuit how you feel about me, then we wouldn’t have a problem. But it’s not enough. I need to hear the words. From you. I need you to say it aloud.” Frustrated, she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Whatever you feel, it isn’t going to scare me off.”
“I love you, Wendy. I think I’ve always loved you.” His lips curved into a smile. “That may not scare you, but it scares the crap out of me. Because I don’t know what I’d do if you left me.”
She bit down on her lip, trying to hold back the tears of joy threatening to spill over. “Better,” she said finally. “Go on,” she coaxed.
“Okay.” He blew out a rough breath. “The way I see it, you can’t leave me without voiding the terms of the prenup.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Huh?”
“You were the one who said that when the marriage ends, we each walk away with everything we had when we started. But if you left now, you’d walk away with my heart.”
Someone behind them groaned. Then Thomas called out, “Dude, I hope that sounded cooler in your head. ’Cause that was lame.”
Jonathon’s eyes drifted closed for an instant and he gave a nod of chagrin. “It actually did sound cooler in my head.”
“I thought it sounded great!” Lacey called out.
Wendy threaded her fingers through Jonathon’s hair and pulled his mouth down to hers. Just before his lips touched hers, she admitted, “I thought it sounded pretty good too.”
His mouth was warm and moist over hers. The kiss sweet and gentle. Full of love. Full of potential.
When he lifted his head, she said, “I love you, Jonathon Bagdon. If this scares you, then you’re not alone. Because it terrifies me too. Everything about it. But I figured, at least we’re not alone in it.”
He flashed her one of those rare smiles that squeezed her heart and didn’t let go. “I love you, Gwendolyn Leland Morgan Bagdon. Will you marry me?” Then he grinned and added, “Again.”
She flung her arms around him and whispered a yes into his ear. Then added, “You know I prefer just the simple Wendy Bagdon.”
She glanced around Jonathon’s shoulder to see Lacey giving her a big thumbs-up. Thomas was still shaking his head, as though the uncle he barely knew had been a huge disappointment. Marie had leaned her back against her husband’s chest and he’d wrapped an arm around her. They were both grinning widely.
Wendy’s own family looked less exuberant. Uncle Hank was scowling. Hank Jr. had pulled out his BlackBerry and was checking his messages. Helen had her arms crossed over her chest, looking about ten seconds away from a meltdown. But her mother was smiling and as Wendy watched, her father gave her mother’s hand a squeeze. Even Mema seemed—almost—to be smiling.
Wendy nodded in her uncle’s direction and whispered to Jonathon. “What about the government contract?”
He scoffed. “Who cares? One decision isn’t going to change the course of FMJ’s future. One government contract won or lost isn’t going to make or break the company.”
“It’s a lot of money.”
“And we’re a diverse company. We’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, because she hated to think he might regret the decision down the road.
By way of answering, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back over to the table where her family still sat.
He draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her against his chest. “Henry,” he began formally. “If you’d like, we can negotiate visitation rights for you, but only if you back off.” He shifted his gaze to Helen. “If anyone in this family wants to fight for Peyton, then bring it on. Just know that we’re going to fight for her. We have every intention of winning. No matter how much it costs. And if you do bring this fight to our doorstep, when you lose, you won’t ever see Peyton or Wendy again.”