Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
It gave his brothers never-ending fodder to hand him shit about, even if at the time he didn’t see any of them balk once at the open bar, shoving perfectly cooked prime rib in their faces, the extravagant dessert buffet, or busting a move on the dance floor.
But Hugger wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Di had looked so fucking gorgeous, it was hard to lay eyes on her (but he put in the effort and managed it).
And she’d been so damned happy, he wouldn’t change a thing.
Even the fact her mother didn’t show, mostly because she wasn’t invited.
But on Di’s side of the pews, the front one was filled with her dad, his now wife, then fiancée, Gisele (a woman who was age-appropriate, elegant as fuck (because she was French), gorgeous, sophisticated and hilarious—Hugger thought she was the shit, Di adored her—needless to say, with pool parties and dinners, and Di and Gisele cooking French food in his kitchen, and Gisele having two kids of her own, also (so far) one grandchild, Nolan hadn’t sold his house), Di’s gram, Nicole, Larry and Larry’s kids.
With them and the rest of the church packed nearly to standing room only, on both sides, his woman had love to spare.
None of those pictures around Pete’s stone were in frames, but they were weighed down, which was what Hugger made sure to do with the newest one.
Over time, the heat beat down on those photos, the wind frayed them, the rain and snow made the images run.
And all that meant what was in those the images sunk into the stone, the dirt, and the bones below, right where they were intended to reach.
When he straightened, he stared down at the stone and shared, “Her name’s gonna be Jacqueline Waite McCain.”
“I suggested Petra as a middle name,” Di, standing at his side, chimed in.
He looked down at his wife.
“We’re not namin’ our girl Petra,” Hugger said for the fiftieth time.
“Why not?”
“It sounds like a video game.”
She scrunched her nose.
“Exactly,” he decreed.
“Peta?” she tried.
“That’s bread.”
She screwed up her face.
Damn, she was cute.
“Petronella?” she tried again.
“Sounds like fuel you’d put in a lantern.” He looked down at the stone. “Seems my woman doesn’t like your last name, Big Petey.”
“That’s not true!” she cried, also to the stone. Then she turned to Hugger and got desperate. “Petunia!”
He caught her by the neck and yanked her to him before he bent his head and laid a heavy, wet one on her mouth.
When he lifted away, he stated, “It’s gonna be Waite.”
“’Kay,” she breathed.
Oh yeah, she was cute.
“You cold?” he asked.
“Freezing,” she whispered.
He rubbed his nose to hers and looked again at the stone.
“Gotta get my woman home, old man, and get her warm. We’ll see you when we’re back in town,” he said.
“’Bye, Big Petey,” Diana added. “Love you.”
Yeah. Love you, Pete, bottom of my soul, Hugger thought.
Then he wrapped his arm around his woman’s shoulders, feeling her arm circle his waist, and, holding her close, he took her to the bike he’d borrowed from the garage.
He got on first.
Di mounted up after him, curled her arms under his pits, her fingers on one hand into his shoulder, the other she flattened against his chest, and she put her chin to one shoulder.
With Di settled in where she belonged, Hugger started the bike up, revved their farewell-for-now to his brother, and he, his woman and their unborn baby girl rolled away.
The End