Charlotte
Things mostly go backto normal after the night Carter was abducted. He stays close to our property or spends time at the clubhouse. Bronze told him to come back to the tattoo shop whenever he’s ready.
I finally got Murphy’s adoption on the calendar and this morning we went to court. Marcel, Rock, and Hope joined us to watch Murphy formally adopt Alexa.
I couldn’t stop throwing up before court. Not from nerves. I knew our case would go smoothly.
“Well, you were right.” I step out of the bathroom staring at the stick in my hands, afraid if I look away the result will change.
“I told you,” Marcel says, but there’s nothing smug about the intensity on his face. “It would happen when we were ready.”
He grasps my free hand and pulls me closer. “Are you happy?”
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“Understandable.”
The corners of my mouth quirk up. That’s my man. Blunt and to the point.
“Do you want to tell everyone tonight?” he asks.
“No, tonight’s about celebrating the O’Callaghan clan.” Murphy is such a proud dad, he deserves a night to celebrate the commitment he’s made to his girls. “Your sister already suspects, but I’d still like to wait until I’m farther along to make any announcements.”
“Can we move the wedding date up, though?” he asks.
“Yes, absolutely.” I curl my hand over the back of his neck. “I can’t wait to marry my handsome king.”
His expression softens and he runs his fingers through my hair. “Are you sure you still want to do it in the backyard?”
“This is our home, I can’t think of a better place to pledge our lives to each other.”
His gaze shifts. Was pledge our lives too formal?
“Do you think the name change will be finalized soon?” he asks.
Shoot, I should’ve realized that’s what he’s concerned about. “Don’t be mad, but I asked Mara if she could help me speed it up.”
“You did?” His teal-blue eyes widen and he cocks his head. “Why would I be mad?”
“I wasn’t sure you wanted me to spread your personal business around to my colleagues.”
“I don’t care. I like Mara and she would’ve found out at the wedding anyway.”
“Good.” My stomach rumbles and I press my hand over it to muffle the obnoxious sound.
“Are you sick?” Concern darkens Marcel’s eyes.
“No. Hungry.”
He releases a relieved breath. “That, I can fix.” He curls his warm hand around mine and we head downstairs to the kitchen.
I sit at the kitchen table and Marcel sets a glass of water in front of me. “Thanks.”
“What do you feel like?” he asks, peering into the refrigerator.
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrates from its stand and I cross the kitchen to see what it is.