We’ll probably make a lot of mistakes together. But together, we’re better than we are apart. We’re more.
A throat clearing has us jerking apart, both breathing heavy. The flowers Pat held in his hand, probably meant for Mama’s vase, are crushed between us. This is … totally awkward.
Mama raises one white brow, her expression both mischievous and disapproving. “As happy as I am for you two, I’d prefer a little distance from the full show.”
Pat and I mutter apologies, exchanging sheepish glances as we pull apart.
“Do we need to have the talk again?” Mama continues, and I remind myself she thinks I’m years younger than I am.
“Nope. No talk necessary,” I tell her, my cheeks flaming. Pat chuckles, and I shove him.
“I might need the talk,” Pat says to Mama. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever had it.”
I go to shove him again, and he darts out of the way, giggling. Mama eyes him like she’s totally got his number.
“Boy, with the way you kiss, it looks like you’re well versed.”
“Mama!” I hide my face behind my hands, because I don’t want to have any more of this conversation.
Pat does his best to revive the flowers, which is pretty much a lost cause. Petals litter the floor and I kneel to pick them up, counting each one as I try to cool down the raging heat flooding my bloodstream. We set what’s left of the daisies in a vase, wave goodbye to Mama, and practically sprint down the hallway. We don’t stop until we reach his truck, which is parked beside my car.
“Can I take you home?” Pat asks. “To our home?”
“Where exactly is our home?” I ask. “We’re weird sort of nomads right now. Like, are we going to stay permanently at the loft? Fix the house?”
Pat rubs a hand down my back. “Slow down, darlin’. We’ll figure out the long-term plans as we go. The location of our home isn’t the most important part. The person—the people involved—are. Where’s Jo, speaking of?”
“She’s with Val and Winnie at the loft.” I pull my phone out, realizing I haven’t checked it since I left. “But, it looks like they’ve taken her to Val’s to see the dogs.” I clear my throat. “That means we have some time.”
It doesn’t take him more than a second to catch my meaning and my heated gaze. “Then it seems like we best get home. And quickly.” He leans closer, his lips tracing over my ear and sending shivers in a straight path up my spine. “I might need a lot of time.”
I clutch his shirt, holding him close and speaking into his neck. “How’s the soundproofing in the loft? Asking purely as a rhetorical question. For later tonight. And the night after that.”
Pat pulls back, and the look he gives me makes my knees tremble. “I made sure the soundproofing is excellent, wife.”
“Let’s give it a test run later, husband. But first, I think I need to do one thing.”
I pull a piece of paper out of my purse, one I’ve kept there for weeks. Pat grins when he recognizes the rules he signed, before doing his very best to skirt around each one. I start to tear it apart, but his hand stops me.
“Can I keep it?”
“Why would you want to?” I ask.
Pat shrugs, grabbing the paper and folding it up before shoving it into his pocket. “Posterity. Also, just in case I need to remind you how I made you want to break them all.”
“That’s the kind of gloating I can handle.”
Pulling me close, Pat’s lips find mine. He kisses me through my smile, through the words he speaks next. “Those rules may be void, but the piece of paper saying we’re married still stands. Are you okay with that? Are you okay being mine, so long as we both shall live, for real?”
“More than okay,” I tell him, pulling back enough to meet his eyes. “Now, stop standing here talking and take me home, husband.”
Epilogue
Pat
They say the third time’s the charm and for me, at least in terms of standing before Judge Judie’s bench, that is absolutely true.
The first time, I received an ankle monitor. The second, I gave a ring. And this third time, I’m gaining a daughter.
The courtroom is just as packed—no, maybe more—than on my wedding day. And I dare you to find a dry eye in the place. Actually, I take that back. Jo isn’t crying. She is smiling so big someone could trip and fall right into her dimple. It could be me.
I wipe my eyes, and Lindy hands me a tissue over the top of Jo’s head. It’s already a little damp, but I’m not a picky man. My wife and I can share a tear-stained tissue. After all, we’re about to share everything else.
“Last question,” Judge Judie says, and I swear even her voice warbles a bit.
Has she been asking questions? Have I been answering them? This whole day is like a wild dream come true.
“Lindy and Patrick Graham, is it your intention to provide Jo Darcy with a loving home?”
“Yes,” Lindy says, just as I say, “And then some.”
There are a few chuckles in the back, and Jo squeezes both of our hands. Judge Judie nods, then turns her fierce eyes on Jo.
“And Jojo—just to be sure, you want to proceed with this adoption?”
“Absolutely. Let’s official this.”
I’m not sure if I imagine or actually hear Tank’s groan at the way Jo just verbed a noun. He doesn’t need to worry though. I know it was for my ears. Most of the time, Jo corrects what she calls my abuse of the English language. I give her hand an extra squeeze and wink when she turns that smile up on me.
“Well, then.” Judge Judie shifts, and I realize she’s holding out the gavel to Jo. “You want to gavel us to a close, Jojo?”
I definitely hear Tank groan this time. Sue me if I’m an influencer. I can’t help the gifts I’ve been born with, and starting trends seems to be one.
I hoist Jo up on my hip so she can reach. Lindy steps closer, winding her arm around my waist and putting a hand on Jo’s shoulder. This is how we’ve spent the last few weeks: together.