Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
She doesn’t answer. Her gaze darts around the room, and her jaw’s clenched tight. There’s a fine tremor running through her shoulders.
Fuck. She’s losing it.
I shift closer, angling my body to block her from the rest of the room. Give her some privacy from the nosy fuckers who’d stare. “Erin, look at me.”
Her eyes snap to mine, but they’re unfocused, glassy. Her breathing’s getting worse—faster, shallower. She’s not getting enough air.
“Too much,” she whispers, so quiet I almost miss it. “It’s too much. The—the lights are too bright, and that woman won’t stop talking, and everyone’s looking at us, and I can’t—I can’t—breathe—”
“Hey, hey.” I reach out slowly, telegraphing the movement so I don’t startle her. My hand hovers near hers. “Can I touch you?”
She nods frantically, and the second my palm covers hers, some of the panic in her face eases. Just a fraction, but it’s there.
“That’s it, lass. You’re alright.” I lace our fingers together, squeezing firm enough that she can feel the pressure. Grounding. “What else helps? Tell me what you need.”
“I—” Her breath hitches. “I don’t know. I can’t think. My head’s too loud.”
“Is it the noise? The people?”
“Everything. All of it.” Her free hand comes up to clutch at her chest, nails digging into the fabric of her dress. “I need—I need it to stop. Make it stop.”
Christ. I hate seeing her like this. Hate that I can’t just punch whatever’s hurting her.
I lean in close, pressing my forehead to hers, our noses nearly touching. “Breathe with me, Erin. Match me, yeah?”
I take a slow, deliberate breath in through my nose—four counts—and let it out through my mouth. She tries to follow, but it’s choppy, uneven. Her whole body’s shaking now.
“You’re doing grand,” I murmur. “Again. In through your nose. That’s it.”
It takes a few tries, but gradually, her breathing starts to sync with mine. In. Hold. Out. Her grip on my hand is tight enough to hurt, but I don’t care.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to hurt you here.”
“Everyone’s staring,” she chokes out.
“Let them fucking stare. Focus on me. Just me.”
Her eyes flutter closed, lashes damp. “You. Just you.”
“That’s my girl.” I bring our joined hands up between us, pressing them against my chest so she can feel the steady thump of my heartbeat. “Feel that? I’m right here. Not going anywhere.”
She nods against my forehead, her breathing still unsteady but slower now, less frantic. The tremors start to ease.
“This,” she whispers after a long moment. “This helps. You touching me. Matching my breathing. Just like… just like that.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” I press a kiss to her temple, lingering. “For as long as you need, lass. I’m not letting go.”
“When you—when you touch me,” she whispers. “It stops the chatter in my head.”
I lace my fingers around the small of her back and hold her to me. “Like that?” I whisper.
“Aye,” she says, our foreheads touching again. “Just like that.”
“I’ve got them!” Bronwyn stands triumphantly with the black velvet box, Declan next to her, presenting us with the rings. But then she notices Erin's wide eyes, the way she's breathing a bit fast, and that I’m holding her. She takes a step back. “Right, yeah. Take your time.”
“I’m good now,” Erin says. “Thank you, Cavin.”
“Right, then,” Father Gregory says in a quiet voice. “Cavin, assemble your witnesses, and we’ll make the announcement.”
Witnesses are an easy matter. Bronwyn and Declan’s eyes shine with excitement as Declan holds the rings and Bronwyn quickly pulls together floral arrangements in front of the fireplace.
“What are you doing, lass?” Mam asks her. Bronwyn turns to me.
“We have an announcement to make.”
I watch Erin begin to tap again, her lips moving in a quiet rhythm as if whispering something to herself.
“Are we mad?” she whispers to me.
“Absolutely. Do we care?” I whisper back. I slide my hand across her lower back and tug her to me.
She looks up at me and smiles. “Not in the slightest. But promise me one thing.” I lean over and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“My god, you’re beautiful. And aye, love. Anything.”
She grimaces. “You’ll handle my mother this time?”
I release a low chuckle. “Sweet lass, I thought you’d never ask.”
And then we’re laughing, both of us, as if we’re in on a secret just meant for us. “Let’s do this, then. Please, Cavin, before I lose my mind.”
This was the best idea she’s ever had. Can’t imagine the poor lass fretting over the next few weeks, her mam breathing down her neck.
I gesture for one of the staff to come over, and order several bottles of champagne. I take an empty glass and a spoon, then click the metal on the glass while I clear my throat.
All eyes in the room come to us.
“We have an announcement to make,” I say, my voice loud and clear in the large expanse of the room.