Worth the Fall(111)

They both wore the silver heart necklaces he’d given them last night, a symbol of his love and his promise that they would always be his little girls. Gracie had gushed over the shine of her new prize, but the sparkle in Annie’s eyes had told him they’d been a good call. No bling for the boys, but he’d pinned his SEAL Trident on Jack’s tuxedo jacket. It was a toss-up as to which one of them was more proud.

The girls dropped red rose petals from the white baskets on their little arms as they walked. Annie worked in a sweeping pattern, placing one on her left, then her right, stepping as carefully as if she were traversing a minefield. Gracie filled in the gaps, flinging glorious handfuls and grinning ear to ear as they fell.

About three quarters of the way down, Gracie stopped and waved at him like she was flagging down a plane. “I’m doing my fowers,” she said in a loud kind of stage whisper, pointing at her basket and getting a laugh from the attending crowd. God, he loved her. All of them. They’d been his since the first day he’d seen them. And he’d been theirs the second Jack’s football hit his back.

Annie got to the end of the aisle, stopped, and looked into her basket. Then she upended it, dumping the unused petals in a pile. She continued to spread them into a nice wide carpet at the end of the silk runner until Beth assured her it was good and ushered her to stand close beside her.

Everyone was there. Except his bride. He concentrated on breathing in and out. No way would he faint at his own wedding. He shifted his feet, pulled Jack back against him a little closer.

The first note of the wedding march blew through the church like a blast and everyone stood. He still didn’t see her.

And then he did. She came in to view and stood just outside the church’s main doors in the narthex. The woman who’d owned his heart before he even knew her name.

With Joe and Angie on either side of her, Abby seemed to float toward him. A long cascade of silk followed the new curves of her body before flaring out at the floor. His eyes found hers and his heart beat stronger with every step she took. She was here. She was his. And he would work until he made everything okay.

The three of them stopped at the bottom step leading up to the altar and Matt was there, taking Abby’s hand, before Joe and Angie had finished the words We do, in answer to Who gives this woman? Yeah, he knew the tradition, but he was taking.

Abby’s lips curved into the sweetest smile, her eyes bright…dancing.

“I got her,” he said, folding his hand around hers, his other at the small of her back as he guided her up the three steps.

The groomsmen chuckled and Matt caught Beth rolling her eyes. Whatever. Abby was his.

Father Mike cleared his throat, ready to start. And so was Matt—more than ready to make Abby his wife.

He tried hard to concentrate on Father Mike’s words, knew they were important, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything with Abby this close, looking this beautiful. Her eyes were on the priest, like the good little Catholic girl she was. His were on her.

Her dark hair, wound up on top of her head and dotted with pretty little flowers, would be coming down later. He imagined the long strands slipping through his fingers, spreading out over his pillow. He would start at her neck, then trail his lips lower, over her breasts, and…

Huh? He jerked his eyes up to find Abby looking amused. Her head tilted slightly, her cute little eyebrows raised as if to say Really? She gave a little nod toward Father Mike, who was absolutely not amused.

Matt put on his very best I’m-paying-attention face and brought Abby’s hand up to his lips, hiding his smile behind a kiss. So damn happy he was about to come out of his skin.

Finally, after a long-winded recitation of what marriage meant, Matt dutifully repeated the priest’s words.

Next was Abby’s turn.

“Please repeat after me. I, Abigail Nicole.”

Abby blinked up at Matt. “I…Abigail Nicole.”

“Promise to…”

“Promise—” Abby froze. She pulled her hands from Matt’s and raised one to signal the priest to stop. Matt’s heart stuttered. Time stood still as he searched for a sign, a clue to her thoughts. Praying they weren’t second thoughts.

Her chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths as she shook out her hands like she was gearing up for a major piano piece. She wiped her palms on the skirt of her dress.

He waited, holding his breath, like everyone else in the church.

Father Mike took a concerned step closer. “Okay?”

“Yes.” Her voice was clear and sure, but when she placed her hands back in his, they shook like tiny birds.

Matt examined her eyes for that glassy look right before someone faints. But they were as clear and bright as ever, and she stared straight into his, so deeply she could have been touching his soul.