Treasured by Thursday
Page 97

She picked up the divorce papers a second time. “You said this isn’t what you want.”
“It isn’t,” he said.
She looked at him and asked, “What do you want?”
“I want the impossible. I want to go back and do this over. I want to meet that beautiful, intelligent, caring woman again and slowly bring her into my world until she can’t see hers without me in it. I want to treasure her every day of the week, every month of the year. I want her to know that because of her, I want to be a better man . . . the kind of man that deserves her. The kind of man she wants for all her tomorrows.”
Moisture gathered behind his eyes as he spoke while hers spilled over.
This time when he placed a hand on her leg, she didn’t pull away. “I want to hear her tell me she loves me because she does, not because she’s forced to. I want to ask her to marry me, and stand before a minister or priest . . . a rabbi for all I care, and watch her walk down the aisle and freely join her life with mine.”
“Hunter . . .”
He picked up the papers and dropped them again. “I know this is a backwards way to go, but divorcing you and trying again is the only way any of this can happen. I will forever question our life if we don’t do this first.” He scooted closer and placed a hand alongside her face. “I love you, Gabi. I know I don’t deserve you right now, but I’m going to one day . . . God willing, you’ll take me up on my promise for tomorrows.”
Her heart kicked hard as she removed the space between them and placed her lips on his. He melted and drew her close. She opened to the invitation of his tongue and kissed him with her whole being. He loved her . . . wanted forever. And the knowledge of his feelings fueled her passion even higher.
“Take me inside, Hunter. Make love to me.”
He rested his head on hers. “One last time before I move out?”
She shook her head. “I’ll agree to the divorce, because your twisted view makes jumbled sense in my head. But you’re not moving out.”
“But—”
“Marriage is a two-way street, Hunter. Sometimes things go your way, sometimes they go mine.”
“But—”
She placed a finger over his lips. “You want me to sign those papers?”
He nodded.
“Then it’s my turn to blackmail you. I’ll sign if you agree to stay. We can wait on all of the other parts, but leaving me alone in this house isn’t an option.”
He pushed away a strand of her hair. “OK, Gabi. Whatever you want.”
“And one more thing . . .”
“Yes?”
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Six and a half months later . . .
Picking a maid of honor was the easiest decision in Gabriella’s life.
Samantha patted Gabi’s back as she fastened the last pearl on her dress. “You’re all in.”
Gabi turned to the full-length mirror and gazed at her reflection. Pearls and lace . . . crystals and silk . . . the dress belonged on royalty.
Today Gabi felt royal.
“Hunter’s going to have a hell of a time getting this off.”
“He deserves it. Brat moved out the last two weeks. All the stress of a divorce and a wedding and he hasn’t put out once.”
Sam started to laugh and didn’t stop until her eyes started to well up.
A knock on the door preceded a parade of maternity wear. Gwen and Karen were on borrowed time. The Harrison pack flew in with a private physician and a nurse. There was no telling if either of them would make it through the ceremony without going into labor. Meg was just as big, but a week away from her due date. Judy held last place with a month and a half to go. Being closer to Sam than Eliza, Sam was the easy choice of attendant to officially witness her vows to Hunter.
Gabi’s mother pushed into the room, patting bellies as she went. She paused when she saw Gabi in front of the mirror. “You’re the most beautiful bride,” she said in Italian. “Your father would be so proud.”
Gabi kissed her mother’s cheeks. “Thanks, Mama.”
“Let’s not wait long. That husband of yours . . .” Simona stopped herself with a shake of her head. “That fiancé of yours is already pacing.”
Gabi listened to her mother leave the room muttering about crazy daughters, divorces, and weddings.
“OK, ladies . . . do we have everything?” Sam asked.
Karen raised her hand, presented a tiny box. “Something old.”
Gabi let out a long sigh. “Oh, you didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t. It was your mom. She said she wore it when she married your father and wanted your marriage to be as happy as hers.”
The box held a delicate comb to place in her hair. Sam kicked off her four-inch heels, stepped on top of a chair, and attached the clip.
Eliza handed the next box. “Something new . . . and before you ask, I didn’t. It’s from Hunter. He insisted, and everyone here is too damn tired to shop.”
That had the women laughing and holding their bellies. The diamond tennis bracelet captured her breath.
“Well played, Hunter,” she heard Meg say under her breath.
Judy handed the next gift. “Something borrowed. They’re from me. I wore them on my second wedding day to Rick.” The pearl drop earrings were perfect.
“This is why you said no jewelry with the dress,” Gabi said to Sam.
“I’m sneaky that way.”
“Something blue,” Meg said. “For the record, I wanted to give you an early pregnancy test . . . blue for yes, pink for no . . . but I was vetoed.”