His expression is peaceful, unruffled. “If it were up to me, Abbi and I would have married at city hall the day we landed back in New York.” Mama gasps, her fearful eyes flittering to Reverend Enderbey as if merely suggesting such an idea has earned our family a one-way ticket to the fiery pits of hell. “You wouldn’t dare.” “Oh, believe me, I would.” A grin stretches across Henry’s face. The bastard finds this amusing. He isn’t the least bit fazed by Mama’s antics. “But that’s not what Abbi wants, and I will give her whatever she wants as long as in the end, she’s my wife.”
