Chapter 3

chapter

three

Annabelle

"May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Greyson Hendricks," the officiant says.

The clearing of the man's throat is what reminded me that I'm in the middle of my own wedding. Greyson kissed the hell out of me, and I nearly forgot my own name. Probably best that the minister, or whoever he is, interrupted us.

Greyson cradling my face and finally—after years of imagining it—putting his mouth on mine was distracting to say the least. Thankfully I didn't completely lose my head and climb his big, sexy body.

It's been a hot minute since I've laid eyes on my Greyson in person. We video chat at least once a month, but it's not the same. I'd nearly forgotten how he's bigger than life. Imposing with this broad shoulders and thick, corded arms. The ink that runs down both arms and onto one of his hands. The thick, nearly bushy beard and those slanting eyebrows that frame his dark brown—nearly black—eyes.

Greyson Hendricks is gorgeous. Always has been. Even when we were younger, and he wasn't such an intimidating figure.

Walking towards him down that makeshift aisle had been the stuff from my girlhood dreams.

But no matter how wild of an imagination I had, I'd never adequately pictured the man I'd just married.

Starched Wrangler jeans, boots, dark buttoned shirt and an equally dark sports coat, Grey had taken my breath away.

He squeezes my hand as he leads me back down the aisle.

My joy is short-lived though because my grandmother is standing just outside the doors. I half expect her to pick up her cane and whack one of us over the head with it.

"What is the meaning of this? I did not pay for you to marry this… this hillbilly."

"I told you that you didn't have to pay for anything. I would have gladly gotten married at the justice of the peace. You're the one who insisted on this fanfare," I remind her. "And as for what you called my husband?—"

Grey puts a hand on me, then leans down to whisper, "Bella, not worth it." The soft brush of his whiskers against the shell of my ear rakes a shiver down my body.

"Mrs. Greer," he says to my grandmother. "I don't believe creating a scene in front of your friends is how you wanted today to play out."

Her nostrils flair, but she only gives him a curt nod. Then she shoots me a glare. "This isn't over." Her face transforms as guests start exiting the restaurant. "I expect you to play every part of the happy couple at the reception. You have half an hour."

Then she walks off, her cane pounding the floor with her every step.

Greyson is still right by my ear. "She's still scary as fuck."

That makes me giggle because I can't imagine anything scaring my Grey.