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So, in front of God and the priest and the law and all the assembled mafiosos of New York City, I blurt out, “I absolutely fucking don’t.”
“I might not be the husband you hoped for, but I’m the one you have. And as long as that’s true, no other man lays a finger on you,” he growls. “Never.”
“I’m going to say that I didn’t plan this. But I will do everything in my power to make your life a good one. I meant what I said earlier tonight, Shannon: as long as I’m alive, no other man will ever touch you. I will keep you safe. I will keep you happy. I swear it.”
