“You’re not going to hog her all night, are you? I really think your mom is starting to get her feelings hurt.”
“My mom had her own babies. Seven of them. This one’s mine.”
Yes. Mary was his. They all were. And he was theirs.
“I think I’ll head to the base if you’re good here.”
As if the holidays weren’t enough celebration, Matt was signing his final discharge papers today. “I’m good.”
Matt lightly bit her neck, then covered the spot with his tongue. “Yes, you are. Very good.”
Abby angled her head to meet his lips, and without breaking contact, turned in his arms, deepening the kiss. Matt’s hands slid to her bottom, pulling her flush against him—a fairly new sensation and one she’d never tire of. She looped her arms around his shoulders, then ran her fingers through his hair and felt him grow hard between her legs. They kissed and tasted, loving each other, everything in her heart settling just by being with him.
A few more minutes of his mouth tangled with hers and he eased back, touched his forehead to hers. “If I don’t go now, I never will.” With one last kiss, he left the kitchen, grabbing another crab roll on his way.
“Matt?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
He gave her a wink and she admired the view of his broad back and shoulders as he left, humming a Christmas carol. In three weeks he would be her husband. It was almost too much to believe. She had a life. She’d always had one, but since she’d been in this house, their house, it was like she had more of a life. Or she was more alive.
December had flown by in a flurry of activity. She’d put her house in Raleigh on the market by phone, and Matt had flown back for a day to oversee the packing. The kids had attended two weeks at their new school before the holiday break. The same school as their cousins, the same school Matt had gone to. Marge had given her a picture of Matt at six years old, looking adorable in his St. Sebastian’s uniform, a replica of the one Jack now wore. Again and again, just when she thought she couldn’t possibly be any happier, she’d soar even higher.
Giddy with happiness, she covered more platters with hors d’oeuvres and set a stack of dishes on the new dining room table. They’d picked out all the furniture for the new house together. Well, she’d pointed at what she wanted and Matt had nodded and ordered. Smiling at the thought, she began to hum along with the holiday tunes playing on the TV. She stilled her hands, smoothing the bright red tablecloth, and cocked an ear. Yep. Baby sounds. Ah, she’d really hoped for fifteen more minutes, but when Mary was hungry, she was hungry. Matt would be disappointed he missed it. She grinned all the way to the nursery.
—
Matt parked his truck and started toward the side door of building C. Hopefully he’d get this wrapped up and be home in time to help Abby. He smiled, picturing the way he’d left her standing in their kitchen: lips damp, a light in her eyes, and his ring on her finger. She was his, and he was counting the days until he had it locked up tight and legal.
He expected to feel at least a twinge of anxiety over this life-changing decision, but all he felt was peace. His life was taking a turn and he was flying around the corner, sprinting down the path. And Abby, the woman who held his heart, stood smiling at the end.
Still part of a team, even if a different kind. He’d done some serious team leading yesterday, taking the kids to the mall. Just getting through the parking lot with all four of them was a tactical maneuver. Gracie and Charlie on each arm with Annie and Jack attached to his back pockets. But he’d gotten them all in and out safely with new shoes for the boys and tights for the girls. Mission accomplished.
Matt made his way down the concrete halls, papers in hand, ready to trade the familiar smells of gun oil and flash grenades for baby powder and butt cream. Stinky men for his fragrant woman. A smile crept over his face. He was a blessed man.
Never in his thirty-four years had he known a peace and happiness like the past thirty nights. Abby in his arms as he fell asleep, waking up wrapped around each other every morning. Raised voices jerked him from his thoughts as he neared the tactical room on his way to his CO’s office office.
“We can do it, sir.” Rocky spoke in an ice-cold tone. “We’ll go in with a small detachment.”
Matt stepped into the room. “What’s going on?”
“Come in, McKinney,” his CO said. “We were just having a discussion.”
Matt met Crawford’s eyes, then the others’ in the room. Six men, all standing, faces grim, like they were at a funeral. He zeroed in on Parker, still on crutches after knee surgery. Matt was almost afraid to ask. “Go in where?”