Conception (The Wellingtons #4) - Tessa Teevan Page 0,127
I tease.
She tilts her head to the side and studies me. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
I open my mouth to respond, but she rises on her toes and laces her arms around my neck.
“It was a rhetorical question. Now, shut up and kiss the future Mrs. Wellington.”
Well, I can’t deny my future wife, now can I?
IF I’D THOUGHT MY SUMMER romance was a whirlwind, that had nothing on the month leading up to our wedding. I barely had a chance to breathe, to step back and take it all in.
Like he promised, Knox took care of everything. The only thing I asked for was that it be a small wedding, with just family and close friends.
Now that we’re on the way to Nashville for our wedding weekend, the nerves creep in.
“How exactly have we managed to stay in our isolated bubble for three months without your mom or my grams barging in?”
Knox parks in his parents’ driveway and glances over at me from the driver’s seat. “I don’t know about your grams, but I told Mom if she came to Crystal Cove before she was invited, I’d never come back to Wellington.”
“She didn’t call your bluff?”
His smirk brings that dimple to the surface. It’s the same dimple our son has. The dimple I absolutely adore. “Have you met my mom yet?”
My nose twitches. I’m a bundle of nerves at the prospect of meeting his parents, so I’m counting on Clay to be an ally. And I’m not opposed to using my sweet baby boy to soften them up if I have to. One look at Branson and they’ll melt, just like I did.
“Well, as much as I appreciate your strategy,” I tell him, “Grams understood that we needed time to sort through things. She’s been dying to meet Branson, but in her words, ‘Babies eat, sleep, and dirty up diapers.’”
“Can’t argue with her on that one. Nashville and Knoxville aren’t that far apart. She’ll be seeing lots of him in the future.” His eyes dart over at me. “Are you sure you’re ready to leave Crystal Cove and settle here? Once we find a place?”
After our engagement, Knox and I had a conversation about the future. He is grounded, has roots in Nashville. Yet he offered to give it up all up so I could pursue my dreams.
“You’d do that for me?” I asked, my head resting on his chest.
We were lounging my bed after a quickie before Branson woke up for his next nightly feeding. Our boy was growing like a weed, and just like his dad, he has a thing for the boob. Albeit in a vastly different way.
Knox’s fingers trailed across my collarbone, eliciting tiny shivers of delight throughout my entire body. “Haven’t you learned by now I’d do anything for you?”
I pushed off Knox’s chest. “Yeah, I think I’ve figured that out.” After tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I reach for his hand, entwining our fingers. “When I came to Crystal Cove last summer, I was looking for something. I’m not even sure I knew that I was. Until I found you, and suddenly I didn’t feel like I was missing anything anymore.” I paused. “I love photography. It’s the last string I have holding me close to my mom. I never want to lose that.”
“You won’t,” he replied, sounding unsure, and I realize this is coming off all wrong.
“But that was before I became a mom. And I’m about to become a wife. I do want to explore the world and pursue that passion. What I want more than anything in the world, though, is to be with you. Be a family. Knox, if that means settling in Nashville, I’m happy with that.”
“Amelia—”
“No, listen. Let me finish. I’m not giving up on my dream. I’m just putting it on hold for a little bit. I couldn’t jet across the ocean and leave Branson any more than I could leave you. There’s plenty of beauty in Tennessee and the surrounding states to refine my skills. Plus, I have a beautiful baby boy and gorgeous soon-to-be husband that’ll be taking up a lot of my film. We’ll have plenty of time to travel. Together.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And hell, it’ll be nice raising Branson with grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins close by.”
“Baby,” Knox growled, his darkened eyes watching me through hooded lids.