The preacher, a burly-looking biker who apparently rode around and officiated weddings for a shit ton of bikers, grinned.
And, of course, the ass looked at Callum to get permission.
At Callum’s nod, the old man continued. “Do you, Iris, take Callum to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I looked over at Callum, contemplating my pending nuptials now that he’d gone and poked the bear with his ‘nod’ at the preacher as if giving permission. As if I couldn’t decide whether to use his real name or not in our freakin’ wedding.
“Quick, say you’re sorry!”
I looked over at Price who was grinning wickedly at me.
“Ruh-roh,” Rook said under his breath. “Abort, abort.”
I flipped them both off, causing my parents to gasp from their seats in the front row.
Honestly, I hadn’t even wanted them there.
After my parents had heard the news of Abby’s death—and it definitely hadn’t been from me, because Callum had sworn me to secrecy—they’d pretty much withdrawn from my life.
A few months after her passing, I’d heard word through Anderson that she’d been declared dead, and that there’d been information found on her belongings, which had been found in a boat in the middle of Lake Superior of all places, that had pretty much damned her when it came to Teller’s death.
From that point on, Abby was never mentioned again by Anderson.
My parents, on the other hand? Despite her culpability when it came to Teller’s death, and the irrefutable proof that came out afterward, they still held Abby on a pedestal in their minds.
Now it was my brother, his wife, and their upcoming child that they were focused on.
Definitely not me.
Honestly, though, I felt somewhat of a relief that they’d checked out of my life.
They’d all but reminded me of what I’d done almost every single time I thought about them or saw them.
Hell, seeing Anderson as much as I did was bad enough.
But seeing them? It was a constant reminder that my sister tried to kill me. Multiple times. And almost succeeded had I not protected myself.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize that I wasn’t engaged in my own damn wedding until a hot mouth pressed against mine.
“You back with me?”
I swallowed hard at the realization that I’d checked out in the middle of something that was super important to me.
God, when Callum had asked me to marry him a few weeks after the bruises from that fateful night began to fade, I’d been gobsmacked.
He’d wanted me?
That was just insane, in my opinion. Why would he want me?
Then his words came back to memory.
“You are the light of my life, and you don’t even know it,” he’d whispered after he’d slipped that ring on my finger. “I didn’t realize all I saw was darkness until you were there lighting the path back to reality. Marry me. Have babies with me. Help me raise them and not let me turn them into overprotected kids who see the beauty in the world. Live the rest of your life with me. Die next to me in bed in sixty years.”
“I’m back with you,” I told him. “Just a little, itty-bitty sense of guilt.”
He snorted. “Shit happens, baby. Then you die. Best live life while you can, and not look back on things you can’t change. Things that you wouldn’t change even if you wanted to.”
He had a point.
“Yes, I’ll take this man to be my husband,” I declared loudly. “And I’ll damn well call him Callum any damn time I please. That all right with you, sunshine?”
He chuckled against my mouth then pulled back until he was looking deep into my eyes.
“Gross!” I heard Anderson cry out. “No more kissing!”
“Thank God someone said it,” Lindy grumbled.
Lindy, God bless her, had turned out to be not so bad after all.
She’d ended up buying Teller’s old house.
She’d also ended up turning into someone that I trusted but didn’t quite like.
It was a very weird relationship, and one that worked for us because she also ended up going into business together with us. We now owned about eight rental houses between the two of us. Since, apparently, the business of our tiny town wasn’t ever going to die down. Just last month, we’d broken ground on four duplexes at the same time Callum and I had broken ground on our new home.
“Ready to wife me officially, sunshine?” I teased.
He curled his arm around my hips, then bodily turned me so that we were facing the preacher.
The old biker’s eyes were sparkling.
He looked like Santa Claus.
Jesus.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Santa Claus?” I blurted.
Callum’s strangled breathing had me tensing.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.
Santa Biker laughed, though. “A time or two, darlin’. A time or two.”
Five minutes later, I became Mrs. Callum Crow.
Ten minutes after that, he had me against the side of a building, and planted his first child into me.
• • •
“Push!” someone ordered.
That someone was my husband.
I was jolted so hard back into reality that I gasped.
“Sunshine,” I whispered. “If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’ll gladly crawl off this piss-poor excuse for a bed with only my arms and kill you with my unfeeling legs.”
There was a moment of silence and then Callum chuckled quietly. “Push, baby.”
I was pushing.
That was the problem.
I’d been pushing for four hours, and nothing was happening. The baby was still in my vagina, where he or she shouldn’t be.
“I’m trying,” I cried. “I’m trying. I’m giving it everything I’ve got.”
And I was.
I had almost zero energy left.
There was just nothing left to give at this point.
My head fell limply to the side, and my eyes closed of their own volition.
I could hear whispering—my doctors and nurses—thinking they were being quiet.
But they weren’t.
I heard what they said, and so did Callum.
“…not going to make it. Hope that cesarean will do it,” the doctor murmured. “Hope for the best.”
I swallowed hard.
There was a reason we hadn’t done a cesarean.
I’d developed very high blood pressure during my pregnancy. So high that they’d induced me and told me in no uncertain terms that I was not, under any circumstances, to consider a C-section unless it was an absolute last resort.
“No!” Callum barked, having been privy to said conversation. “She’s gonna fuckin’ push this kid out!”
A bolt of energy shot through me and down to my spine.
I cried out and pushed hard, feeling like I gave it the rest of everything that I had.
They’d turned my epidural down an hour ago in hopes that it would help me push.
Now, I could literally feel everything from the tops of my thighs up.
It was the worst pain I’d ever experienced in my life, bar none.
I collapsed, realizing that this was the end.
I wasn’t going to make it.
Callum must’ve seen me give up, too.