It was like he put this much syrup on every time he had pancakes, and knew just the exact amount needed to satisfy him.
“It’s mine,” he said. “Though, I guess if I were a better husband, I would’ve allowed you to use the syrup first.”
I rolled my eyes and decided that since he was in such a good mood, I wanted to ask him something that the ladies and I had discussed last night while we’d driven to Tommy’s parents’ place.
“I want to take engagement pictures,” I broached the subject carefully. Because I knew if I worded this wrong, he would totally say no. Truth was like that with his looks. They were beautiful, and wonderful, and they were all part of the reason he hated his dad—because he looked just like him. Part of the reason he’d had such a shitty childhood.
Something I’d learned over the last few days I’d been living with him.
He didn’t own a freakin’ mirror, and when I’d broached the subject, he’d flat out refused to have one in the house.
When I’d gotten one anyway, he’d hidden it from me.
When I’d gotten a second one, he’d hidden that, too.
A few nights ago, we’d had a knock-down, drag out fight, and he’d finally explained that he didn’t need a mirror to know what he looked like. When I’d asked why, he’d then went on to explain how, in high school, he’d been teased about being ‘pretty’ and over time, he’d learned to just deal.
And by dealing, that meant not doing a damn thing when it came to his appearance. That equaled no mirrors anywhere in the house, and a beard that was unruly if he didn’t go to the barber shop and get it trimmed and corralled back into the beauty that it was at this very second.
Truth’s eyes came to me.
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
I smiled. “Because, in fifty years, I want to look back at these photos and remember what made them so special.”
“We’re already married,” he pointed out.
I shrugged. “Please?”
I made sure to stick my lip out for added emphasis, and he growled low in his throat.
“Fine.”
I clapped my hands excitedly.
“Oh, goody!” I said. “I know just the person!”
I’d discussed it with Tommy’s mother last night, and she’d told me that there was a photographer who would likely be willing to do it if she asked.
I reached my hands around his neck and pulled him to me, placing my lips gently against his.
He tasted like syrup.
“Thank you, big guy,” I placed one more kiss on his lips. “You’re the greatest.”
***
“So, this wasn’t what I was thinking,” I mumbled darkly.
Truth’s eyes showed mirth, and it took everything I had to hold onto the pissed off look on my face.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What did you have in mind?”
He grabbed my hair and pulled me forward, and I had to fight not to go limp at the feeling of his strong hand in my hair.
“I thought you’d have on nice clothes. I also thought that you’d stand here and look nice. Not hide your face every single time she went to take a picture of us.”
His smile was slow, easy, and uncaring.
“Yeah?” He licked his lips, which in turn caused him to lick mine due to our close proximity. “Well, you wanted them. You said nothing about me having to look at the camera. She’ll get plenty of good ones, I promise.”
He was right. Each time she asked us to move to a new pose, and we did, she’d show us the pictures afterwards.
None of them had Truth’s full face in the frame. None of them had his eyes.
However, in all of them, I could see the love shining in my eyes. I could also see the way Truth’s body leaned over mine. How he held me protectively in his arms. How each and every shot she got, the desire he felt for me was written all over his body.
So no, I didn’t have his face.
But I did have his heart, his body, and his love in the pictures, and that was enough.
As long as I had him, it would always be enough.
Chapter 19
One does not simply survive a June Bug attack.
-Fact of life
Verity
The boys could drink their beer, and they could handle it.
I’d witnessed all of them, even Truth, drinking at least four bottles of beer. And I say at least because I don’t know for sure. I was on my third margarita, so I couldn’t really tell how many they’d had since I was unable to think clearly past my own alcohol-induced haze.
However, when I was able to count, which, might I add, wasn’t right now, I’d brought them all four a piece.
Why I’d been the one getting up and getting them beers was beyond me, but that was over a half an hour ago. And upon delivering the last round from the beer fridge that Tommy’s parents had on the back patio, Truth told me not to deliver them any more.
Though my deliveries had stopped, they had not.
“So, what was your wedding like?” Tally asked.
I pulled out my phone and pulled up our wedding photos, ones that’d been in the packet that I’d managed to avoid looking at for months.
“I don’t remember, but I have pictures,” I said, turning my phone around for them to see.
“What were you wearing?” Imogen leaned forward so she could get a closer look.
“That was my wedding dress. The one that I specifically picked out to wear to my cheating ex-fiancé’s wedding.”
Imogen blinked.
“You know,” she said. “I heard about Truth’s girlfriend cheating, but I hadn’t realized that your fiancé had cheated on you, too.”
I nodded.
The same memories that used to make me sick now made me smile.
Not because I was happy that Kenneth had cheated, but because I was happy that he’d made it possible for me to find Truth.
Though, as humiliating as it was, I had to admit had he not done what he did, I’d be in a very different place right now. Possibly married and miserable.
Now I was married and happy, and that’s the way I liked it.
“Well, have I got a story for you,” I started in, not stopping until they had all the nitty gritty details.
“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Tally finally admitted. “Did he really say those things in front of all of the wedding guests?”
I nodded. “And you haven’t even heard the best part. Destiny’s pregnant…with her brother-in-law’s baby.”
They blinked, then Tally reached forward and downed the rest of her drink.
“That’s just amazing,” Tally finally said once she’d recovered from drinking half a Fuzzy Nipple in one gulp. “That’s shit you see on Maury or Jerry Springer.”
I nodded my head. “Yep.”
I was reaching for my drink—which was very close to being empty—when a weird sound had me turning to track where it was coming from.
It was my purse.
Frowning, I leaned forward and stuck my hand into it, searching for the elusive buzzing that I’d never heard coming from my purse before.
“Isn’t that one of those phones that was exploding?” Imogen asked as she relaxed back into her seat.
I shrugged.