Divinely Living (Surviving Series) (33 page)

Mason grasped both of my hands and shot me a quick smile. “Are you ready, baby girl?”

I took a lingering look at the people around me and answered unreservedly. “Damn right I am.”

Offering me his arm with a laugh, I took it, gave it a squeeze and headed for the church.

******

He took my breath. As I rounded the back pews and stepped into the middle of the aisle, the vision of Jonah, waiting impatiently at the altar, set my heart pounding in my chest. His suit matched Masons, a black three piece with a white dress shirt and blood red tie. The material fit snugly against his muscular physique emphasising his broad shoulders, ripped chest and stomach and athletically toned thighs and calves. His unruly chestnut waves adopted their usual position across his lightly tanned forehead and his dark blue eyes shone brightly with love, as he saw my entry. He smiled his gaze hot on my face as I neared. Mason proudly walked beside me, a vision himself in his suited attire as he held my arm in his and walked me in perfect sync down the aisle.

The small church was decorated in twinkling fairy lights, seasonal red, white and gold flowers and a small traditional Christmas tree in a far corner. I had no idea how Jonah managed to secure this church for the wedding. I suspect the huge donation they received for their children’s Christmas appeal from an unknown source probably swung it. And after numerous other churches were already booked and the wedding was ridiculously short notice, I didn’t care how much money it took to make our wedding happen here. It was perfect. Everything I could have hoped for regardless of the cost.

The guest list was short and sweet, only our closest of friends and family were invited which is the way we both wanted it. It comprised of my dad, the Collins family, Scarlett, Giovanni and his wife Maria, Jonah’s best man Andrew Baxter and his friend with benefits, Kate. All were smiling as I approached, all happy for the two of us. Who would have known that I would actually have so many people under one roof who mattered to me? Ava earlier in the year wouldn’t have given a shit for any of them. Ava now enjoyed their company, appreciated their support and held their relationships close to my heart. Jeez, I really had come far!

The vicar stood before us on a raised step as Mason reluctantly bent to kiss my cheek then joined my hand with Jonah’s. Mouthing ‘I love you’ to me as he kissed my knuckles, Jonah turned with me to face the man of god who would shortly be sealing our relationship in the eyes of the church.

There are times in everyone’s lives when you face a cross roads and have to decide which path to follow. A life lived of pain, anguish and abuse can change instantly with one new turn in the road, to a life of hope, love and true happiness. That’s what I realised now. Sometimes you have to dig deep, scream
to hell with it
and take a huge leap of faith, plunging into your future, feet first without any regard for the consequences. The moment I did that, Savannah Mae Matthews stopped
Barely Surviving
and Ava Jacobson began
Divinely Living.

Dipping his head to mine, Jonah’s masculine, hot as shit scent swept across my face and sent my senses reeling. I clutched his hand tightly, the hand of the man I loved, adored, craved like a drug and indulged in constantly, forever seeking the next fix. He was captivating, scorching hot and wickedly tempting. And as he replied, “Damn right I do,” when agreeing to his vows, I smiled brightly.  Because this beautiful, seriously addictive man, who brought me from the darkness and freed my wounded soul, was legally, completely and irreversibly, entirely mine. Forever.

JONAH

She held me captive from day one. I’m lost when she gazes at me, her willing slave when she smiles. She is my entire world, my whole life. Quite simply she is everything. Slipping her small hand in mine, my heart thumps in my chest. The adoration in her eyes as she looks at me, urging me to follow her, renders me unable to resist. I can’t resist her, her needs are mine to fulfil. Taking care of her is my privilege, loving her is my god damn right and I defy anyone to tell me different. And as she tugs on my hand and pulls me into the kitchen, I have no option but to follow her. I will always follow her. Wherever she goes and whatever she does I’ll be right behind her. Because she is mine, she belongs to me. She is my daughter.

Her deep blue eyes pierce my soul, her reddish brown curls so like her mothers. She’s the perfect blend of the woman whose love I require to live, and me. I would give my life to stop her tears when she cries, kill any fucker who dare to harm her and protect her until the day I take my final breath, just as I would for her mother, for my wife, my Ava.

Grace Gina Jacobson came screaming into the world after a long, two day labour and it was the most heavenly fucking sound I’d ever heard. The moment she was placed in my arms, I wept like a damn pussy. This miraculous little bundle, so warm and innocent, was mine. And my undeserving self had never experienced a rush of love like it since the day I met Ava, the woman who gave me the two most precious of gifts.  She gave herself to me, and then blessed me with Grace. I have no idea what I did to hit the jackpot, but everyday with my two girls felt like winning the fucking lottery. And their love was all the wealth I needed.

“Come on.
Daddy,” she urges. “We need to make mummy coffee now.”

“Okay, baby,” I nod and follow her to Ava’s most prized kitchen possession, her monstrous coffee machine. She likes it fresh and strong. Only the best for my woman will do. Firing it up, I watch Grace full stretch on her tiptoes to pull her mummy’s favourite mug from where I left it just within her reach on the kitchen worktop.

These are the moments I love the most. After starting my own law firm shortly after Grace’s birth, the weekday hours are long and arduous but rewarding. I miss my girls so damn badly but I work to provide them with nothing but the best. The proud husband and father in me won’t allow them to settle for anything less. But every Sunday morning we have our own special time. It’s what I look forward to all week and every Sunday is the same. Grace and I wake early and reward her mummy with a mug of coffee she drinks in bed. I may work my backside off at the office, but Ava does too. She takes care of our beautiful daughter as if her life depends on it. I’ve never seen such tender, loving interaction between a mother and her child and a morning in bed is our small way of saying thank you for all that she does. And especially for loving us both like she does.

I fill the coffee machine and hand Grace the cream from the fridge. Adding the cream is her job. She knows exactly how much her mummy likes and the pride in her eyes as she sees the satisfaction on Ava’s face while she takes her first sip reduces me to a fucking mess. Four years have passed so quickly. Graces thirst for life and capability to love, at such a very young age are astounding. I am truly in awe of my little girl every day and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

The machine gurgles to a halt and I retrieve the mug from its stand. Placing it on the kitchen island, I lift Grace level with the counter and watch as she pours the cream in with precise, dainty hands, puts the cream jug down then claps her hands excitedly.

“Mummy loves our coffee, Daddy,” she says happily. She as the voice of angel, so sweet and high pitched. It’s the most wonderful sound and always makes me smile.

“She sure does, Gracie,” I reply while lifting her back to the floor. “Come on, baby, let’s go wake Mummy.”

She adjusts her pink, fairy pyjamas and brushes her long auburn curls from her petite shoulders. “Daddy, do I look beautiful like Mummy?” she asks as she gazes up at me seeking my approval.

My fucking approval!
My gorgeous, perfect daughter asks me if she looks beautiful. I choke back a ball of emotion that burns in my throat as I bend forward and kiss the pale, flawless skin of her forehead.

“Yes Gracie,” I stutter. God, I’m such a fucking pathetic mess around these girls, I tell myself silently. “You always look just as beautiful as mummy. If not more beautiful.”

She giggles a soft baby girl giggle then grabs my hand. “Nobody is more beautiful than mummy. She’s the loveliest mummy in the world.”

I pull her into my arms, suck in her raspberry shampoo scent and squeeze her tightly. True, Ava is the most beautiful mummy in the world. She’s divine, stunningly divine. But so is my baby girl and it’s my job as her daddy to make sure she always knows that.

“Yes mummy is beautiful, baby. But you are too. You’re the loveliest little girl in the whole wide world and I love you.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and rests her precious head on my shoulder. “I love you too, Daddy,” she whispers.

This time I can’t help the tear that escapes from the corner of my eye. Hearing those three words from her innocent mouth crucifies me. Grace will never know how much I need to hear her say she loves me, or how much I need to tell her the same. I never heard those words as a child, and neither did her mother. And I refuse to allow my daughter to hear those words spoken to her any less than ten times a day, every damn day.

Reluctantly releasing her, I take her hand, pick the mug up in my other hand and start to head down the hallway. In a moment Ava will be woken by the daughter she adores and I will spend the morning indulging in my favourite two girls, enjoying their laughter and showering them in love. For this is where I belong. Right here is where I need to be. Because with Ava and Grace, for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m truly home.

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Courtney Cross is a working mother of three boys who at the age of 36 decided to fulfil her life long dream by putting pen to paper and writing her first novel. With a taste for the raunchy and very naughty, Courtney's specialty is Adult Erotica Romance and hopefully there will be many more racy novels to come.

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