I hadn’t liked it, but she was right. I’d felt the absence of my parents every day. There was a hole inside my chest that wouldn’t fill, no matter what I did. A constant reminder that I wasn’t enough. I didn’t want that for Brantley, so I’d given in. With a few stipulations.
The first being that he and I didn’t speak unless absolutely necessary. The second—and the biggest—was that Uncle Scooter was there to supervise Jensen’s every visit with Brantley. I might have given him the opportunity to see his son, but I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Overnights were out of the question, and he had to meet up with Scoot and Brantley at a place of my choosing.
That made it possible for my boy to get some time with his father while making it so I saw Jensen as little as humanly possible. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could do.
I could tell by my friends’ faces and the concerned look they shared that they wanted to say more, but the door to the suite opened before they could dig into my feelings, something they were prone to do since Jensen’s sudden reappearance months ago.
“All right, ladies. It’s showtime.” Bennett, Farah’s surrogate father, announced from the doorway. The man had grown up in Redemption, but moved away, getting a job as the driver for Farah and Jase’s family. He’d fallen in love with those kids and stayed up north for them, but when Farah made the move to his old hometown, it hadn’t been long before he’d followed. Now he was standing there, looking dignified and handsome in his classic tux, ready to walk the woman he thought of as his daughter down the aisle.
Farah let out an ear-piercing squeak as she shot up from the padded stool she’d been sitting on while I did her hair and makeup. “It’s time! I’m getting married! It’s time to get me married!”
She’d have bolted right out of the room had it not been for Bennett still standing in the doorway. “All right, my sweet Farah, let’s just slow down for a second. At least let the man get up to the altar before you race down the aisle.”
She paused, taking a few calming breaths before nodding her head. “All right. I’m calm.” She looked back and gave me and Poppy a blinding smile. “You guys ready?”
Not by a long shot, I thought. But I kept that to myself, pasting a happy smile onto my face as I nodded to my friend. “Let’s go get you married.”
Chapter Two
Shane
I was a tangled, twisted ball of nerves as I made my way down the aisle toward the altar where Cannon was waiting beside his father, Banks, who was standing as best man, and Farah’s brother, Jase.
All eyes in the room were pointed in my direction as everyone in the room waited in anticipation for the bride, but I kept my attention on the groom, mainly because I didn’t want to miss his reaction once he caught a gander at his bride, but also because I was afraid of what—or who—I might see if I glanced around.
I made it to my destination, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding just as Poppy joined me, opposite from the men. When I shifted my attention back to the aisle, my smile grew bigger, more genuine as I watched my son heading toward me. Farah didn’t have a flower girl, but she’d insisted on making my son her ring bearer.
He was dressed in a mini-version of the same tuxes the rest of the guys were wearing, his dark hair slicked back in a more mature style than the usual mop he wore. My baby looked like a little man, and I felt a pang of sadness at how much he’d already grown.
Halfway down the aisle, he spotted me, his face splitting into a little boy grin. “Hi, Momma!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the soft strains of music filtering through the room. My chest shook with a quiet laugh as I lifted my hand to return his rambunctious wave with a subtle one of my own.
“Did I do good?” he asked in a stage whisper once he reached my side. “I didn’t fall or nothin’!”
“You did fantastic, kid,” I whispered, wrapping an arm around him in order to pull him into me. “Now we have to face forward and be quiet. Aunt Farah’s about to come through those doors any second now.”
“Okay,” he whisper-yelled, leaning against me, his face an earnest mask as he watched the double doors closely, reaching up so he could lace his fingers with the hand I had resting on his chest. Just that one simple touch from my boy made everything feel better.
The anxiety clawing at my gut began to fade. That was, until I lifted my head. My gaze instantly landed on a pair of familiar storm cloud eyes and my lungs froze solid.
That first initial look had been like an electric shock to my nervous system. Even from four rows away, I could see the intensity in his dark, swirling, stormy eyes. I’d been held captive by it for several seconds before finally being able to shake myself loose and pay attention to what was happening around me.
My body’s reaction to that one look shook me to my core. It had taken forever for my heart to stop threatening to beat out of my chest. For a while, I was worried I’d hyperventilate right up there at the altar, but I finally got myself under control.
However, I felt his gaze on me through the entire ceremony like a physical touch. It was like fire spreading across my skin, and as hard as I tried to ignore it, the sensation just wouldn’t go away.
I refused to take another look in his direction and breathed a heavy sigh of relief once it was over. I managed to push him from the back of my mind, smiling and laughing as I posed for pictures with the rest of the wedding party, and by the time we headed into the reception, I was feeling lighter.
At least until we entered the ballroom and my son let out a shriek of, “Daddy!” and took off running, the excitement at seeing Jensen radiating from his little body. I knew it was ridiculous to feel hurt. My son loved his father, that was a good thing, but there was still a very childish, selfish part of me that wanted to be my son’s favorite. I stood motionless for a second as Jensen’s face broke out with a huge, beaming grin as he crouched down, opening his arms wide, and scooping Brantley up as soon as my boy lunged for him.
I had to turn away as my throat tightened and my eyes began to burn. It was just allergies, of course. It had absolutely nothing to do with seeing Jensen’s expression radiating love and happiness when he looked at my son. No freaking way.
I made it through dinner, toasts, and cake cutting without letting my animosity show. Or at least I hoped I did. Once the party started, I tried to keep myself distracted. I chatted with Caroline and Poppy. I danced with Scooter. I did a shot with my boss, Darla, at the bar, but the whole time, I could feel him watching, that prickle of awareness, a constant reminder that he was nearby somewhere, tracking every move I made.
Brantley let out a loud peel of laughter as I swung him in a circle, dipping him dramatically as the song we’d been dancing to came to an end. I lowered him to the ground, panting slightly from having to hold him during the dance. My boy wasn’t so little anymore, and the muscles in my arms were trembling from his weight, but it had been worth it. When he’d run up earlier and asked “Momma, will you dance with me?” I’d nearly melted into a puddle. He was just the sweetest kid in the whole wide world.