#Heart (Hashtag #6)

by Cambria Hebert

The second I slid that ring onto her finger, my entire world felt complete.

That ring represented so much to me. It represented my love for her. It represented me. It represented what we were to each other.

At the Hellcat, I tossed the bag into the backseat and then more carefully placed my life in the passenger seat, taking care to buckle her and let my knuckles skim across her breasts.

There were just no words to describe what she was to me. Oxygen to a suffocating man. An umbrella in a rainstorm. Light in the darkness. None of those even came close to the way I loved her. To the way she made me feel.

The corner of Romeo’s mouth tilted up. “I like you, princess.” “Princess.” I felt my nose wrinkle. He grinned widely. “Yep. Princess. With your designer clothes, fancy dog, and air of confidence. You’re the closest thing to royalty I’ve ever met.”

My arms tightened around him. He chuckled. “Pretty good grip for a princess.” I groaned and pulled away. “That’s gonna stick, isn’t it?” I knew he’d wanted something to call me (because, you know, brothers don’t call their sisters by their names), but princess? “Oh yeah.” He laughed and his eyes twinkled with amusement because he knew I hated it.

I groaned. Her smile was smug, like she’d somehow won a war. “Blondie,” I growled. “B,” she growled back, but it sounded like a baby kitten yawning. I made a rude sound. “That is not intimidating.” “Yes, huh.” She argued. What the fuck kind of argument was that?

His hair, which was actually almost the same color as my brother’s (Trent’s was slightly darker), was short but still styled neatly. As opposed to my brother, who likely hadn’t had a haircut in months so it was all grown out and flopping around his head like he had a family of rats living in it.

“A girl tries to wear her hair down and this is what happens. If you hadn’t been here, I’d be in the back, begging for a stick of butter to get myself out of that contraption!” Rim gestured toward the scarf. I didn’t even bother to hide my enjoyment of her clear fashion handicap. “Hmm, I think you just gave me an idea for my style channel.” “Butter as hair detangler?” Rimmel flashed a smile. “How to properly wear a scarf.” I corrected. “Better include a segment on how to get the hell out of one if you can’t put it on right,” she muttered.

A girl like Missy? Well, she was sort of like a piñata. After so many hits, she cracked open and the real contents of her nasty soul spilled out.

“And you wonder why I don’t want you driving in the snow,” Romeo muttered. “Damn, Smalls. You can’t even walk in it.”

“My very existence is about you, baby. Everything else is just details.”

I bit my lip and suppressed a smile. Romeo being all bossy was kind of hot. Well, when it wasn’t me he was bossing. I didn’t like being bossed. “Smalls, get over here!” he demanded. I sighed loudly. So much for not being bossed. His hotness just went down a notch.

Rimmel bit down on her lower lip and nodded. If there was one person my girl had yet to learn how to say no to, it was my father. She had a soft spot for him. She told me once it was because he was an older version of me. Clearly, my mother had figured this out all on her own.

Ever since I met her, I’d been finding ways to get my name on her. After today, she’d wear it forever.

An official marriage license was presented to us. Kathy and her friends cried. Romeo signed a lot of stuff for Abe, and then all four of them promised to never tell anyone about our secret wedding.

Seconds later, Rimmel emerged from the gathered people and burst into the hall. Drew and Trent scrambled along behind her, and it kinda made me smile. It was Snow White followed by two of her dwarfs. Well, really big dwarfs.

Moose Head had other ideas. The man who knocked me down = Moose Head. He was giant, scowling, and came charging at Braeden. Plus, he had a big head. Like a moose.

(Seriously, though, why can’t these gowns be attractive? Isn’t it bad enough that patients have to be in here for some dreadful reason, but then to be handed a gown that’s seriously depressing is just wrong. Wrong, I tell ya.)

Braeden was an idiot. He thought he could order me to marry him? As if I didn’t have a choice? Bonehead. He wanted to get married because he thought it was the right thing to do. Because he thought it was his responsibility now that I was pregnant. As if I would marry a man because it was his duty. *Scoff.* I don’t think so.

His skin was so warm. It always was. That partnered with the blond hair and warm-toned skin made me strongly suspect the man had his own personal sun inside him, and it radiated out, giving him that extra something that everyone always reacted to.

Spring break would mark a year since Ivy and I first dropped the hate/hate relationship and admitted it was more like attraction/attraction, which we then denied/denied, but now it was love/love.

It was going to be a long nine months, and this poor baby… God help her if she was a girl. With three very large, very protective uncles right in her home, plus a daddy who tackled men for a living… well, she was going to need a lot of patience. Ooh! Patience was a nice name.

They say the best things in life come from pushing out of your comfort zone, and I was learning whoever the hell said that was right.

I still had no idea if it was a son or a daughter. Ivy was adamant she not find out. For a woman who loved to shop for pink shit, I would have thought she would have been the first to know. But she maintained it didn’t matter if it was a girl or a boy because it was mine and that’s all she cared about. Seriously. Who wouldn’t marry that?

“Smalls,” he whisper-demanded, “I’d like to place an order. I’d like one in blue.”