The ceremony’s a blur. I can’t take my eyes off her, my wife, as we promise to love and honor each other forever.
After hours of food, drink, and dancing at our reception, I whisk Amelia away from the estate. I’m eager to be alone with my wife.
“Knox, where are we going? Did you get a hotel suite for the night? What about Branson?”
“You already put him to bed, wife. He’s staying with my parents.” I glance over at her, not missing the worried expression in her eyes. “If that’s okay with you?”
“It’s okay with me. There’s plenty of milk for him. Your mom will call if she needs anything?”
“Of course.”
“So where are we going?”
“Home.”
She furrows her brow. “Without the baby?”
I laugh and reassuringly squeeze her hand. “No, babe. Not Crystal Cove.”
“I don’t understand.”
I glance over and hope like hell I didn’t make another wrong move. “I hope you don’t mind. As soon as I found out about Branson, I asked Mom to start looking at real estate for me. We couldn’t stay at their place, even though she insisted they had plenty of room. No way in hell am I starting my marriage living with my parents. As soon as you said you were content to live in Nashville, I settled on this place.”
Her silence in the car is deafening.
“Fuck, I screwed this up again, didn’t I? I should’ve asked you. Let you go house hunting with me.” I slam the heel of my hand against the steering wheel. “Babe, we can put—”
Amelia launches herself across the bucket seat and peppers kisses along my neck. I’m already too damn turned on to scold her for distracting a guy driving a classic car.
“It’s perfect, Knox. Simply perfect.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. The fact that you thought of Branson and me needing a house where we can grow as a family? I love it. I love you. And to be honest? The last thing I want to do is house hunt with an infant. I’d grow old anywhere with you, Mr. Wellington.”
I alternate between keeping my eyes on the driveway and on Amelia as I go up the long country lane that loops around near the front of the house. Her eyes widen as she looks from the house and then back to me.
I park the car and jump out, running around and opening the door for her. She offers her hand, and I hoist her up.
“Welcome to Belle Meade, baby.”
“Umm, Knox, when you said house, I was thinking a ranch with three, maybe four bedrooms. Not a freaking mansion to rival your parents’. This is too much.”
I hook Amelia by the waist, pulling her in close. “You love me?”
“You know I do.”
“You want more kids?”
“Absolutely.”
“You want to settle in one place, here, and start raising our family?”
Her eyes close briefly then flutter back open. “More than anything.”
“Then this is home. I figured we could get a starter home. Or one we could spend the rest of our lives in. If you love it.”
“Will you be there?” she asks.
“Always.”
“And Branson?”
“For as long as he wants.”
“Then I love it already. Now, I’d love a tour…”
“But?”
“But your wife wants to make love to her husband.”
Who can argue with that?
Hours later, Amelia and I emerge from the master bedroom having thoroughly consummated our marriage. And our new shower, which is big enough for five people. From what I can tell, she’s quite pleased with the little bit she’s seen—and definitely happy with the sprawling king-sized bed I had delivered.
Amelia’s put on a silk, paisley nightie that highlights her perfect tits and skims the bottom of her ass in a way that makes me want to forego the tour and toss her back on the bed. My wife, ever the mind reader, shakes her head at me.
“My legs are already quivering, Knox, and even though we’ve more than made up for our time apart in the last month, I’m going to be sore tomorrow. Plus, I want to see the house.”
“If you insist, wife.”
“I do, husband.” She loops her arm through mine, pulling me out of the bedroom.
One by one, we explore the other five bedrooms and Amelia chooses the one closest to ours for the nursery. We spend time going over every nook and cranny of the seven-thousand-square-foot home. Okay, perhaps I was a bit extravagant with my purchase, but my parents’ wedding present was a down payment taken from my inheritance. They tried to simply give me the money, but I insisted that this would come from my own trust fund. And like I told Amelia, I wanted us to settle.
She oohs and awws over the enormous kitchen, her hands running along the granite countertops and the brand-new appliances. When she places her palms on the island in the middle of the room, she gives me a wink. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I waggle my eyebrows in her direction. “That we should christen the island?”
She giggles. “We’ll christen every room in this house, Mr. Wellington. Including this island.”
“Baby, you can’t say things like that or we’ll never finish this damn tour.”
“Would that bother you?”
Hell no.
I fight the urge to bend her over. “We have plenty of time for that later. All our lives, in fact.”
Her dazzling smile does little to extinguish my temptation. “I like the sound of that.”
I take her hand before changing my mind and taking her right here. “Come on. I want you to see the backyard. It was one of the selling points for me.”
Amelia gasps when we walk through the double doors off the dining room. The massive backyard isn’t nearly as impressive as it is in the daylight, but the moonlight adequately illuminates the vast green space that’s a blank canvas for her to do with as she pleases. The estate sits on twenty acres, more than enough room to expand our brood and then some. I can already envision the birthday parties, summer bashes, and holidays we’ll spend celebrating here.
“Knox, I can imagine raising our family here. I never want to leave this place.”
“Then we never will.”
She smiles and then yawns, declaring her exhaustion from the day.
Just as Amelia’s ready to climb the stairs back to our bedroom, I remove the sash I placed in my back pocket. I catch her hand when she reaches the third step.
“One more thing?” she asks, her eyes drooping, her voice laced with exhaustion. She stifles another yawn. “Today has been so overwhelming. In the best way possible. I’m not sure I can take any more.”
“Trust me. You can take this,” I promise, wiggling my eyebrows at her.
She laughs, playing swatting my arm. “It is our wedding night.”
Even though that’s not what I mean, I chuckle anyway. She holds still while I tie the sash around her eyes and lead her a room at the back of the house. I open the door and guide her in, turning on the dim light so she’ll be able to see clearly.
When I remove the sash, I take a step back, letting Amelia take it all in.
Her sharp intake of breath has pride swelling in me.