Page 40 of Our Bay Will Come

"So considerate," she teases, but I see the excitement she's trying to contain. "And what if I'm not ready?"

"Then I'll wait." I brush a kiss against her temple. "I'd wait forever for you, Prue Griffin."

She sighs a contented sound that travels straight to my core. "It's a Good thing you don't have to."

We dance through two more songs before Cilla appears at Prue's elbow, flushed and radiant.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, not looking sorry at all, "but I need to steal my maid of honor for the bouquet toss."

"By all means." I step back, releasing Prue with reluctance. "I'll be right here."

As Prue follows her sister, Cilla turns back to me with a knowing wink. She's suspected about us for months, though we've never confirmed it. Rowan knows, of course—impossible to keep secrets from a guy you've known since kindergarten—but he's kept our confidence.

I watch the single women gather, Prue hanging toward the back, looking amused. Cilla turns her back to the crowd, counts to three, and tosses her bouquet high into the air. It sails over the outstretched hands in front and lands squarely in Prue's arms, who looks as surprised as everyone else.

The crowd cheers, and Prue's eyes find mine across the room. The look we share is electric, full of promise.

Our friend, Cole, appears beside me, handing me a fresh beer. "Ten bucks says you're next, Carmichael."

I accept the beer with a laugh. "I don't take sucker bets."

The night continues––a blur of dancing, toasts, and cake. I manage to steal moments with Prue. We touch as we pass in the buffet line, a private laugh over the best man's speech, a lingering glance across the room—each one a secret shared, a promise made.

As the reception winds down, Rowan and Cilla prepare to leave for their hotel before tomorrow's flight to Hawaii. The guests line up outside with sparklers, creating a tunnel of light for the newlyweds to run through.

Prue stands opposite me in the line, the golden light illuminating her face. As Rowan and Cilla sprint past us, showered in well-wishes and laughter, Prue's eyes meet mine over the sparks.

In this perfect moment, I see our future with perfect clarity: a small house overlooking the bay, maybe kids someday, mornings spent tangled in sheets, and evenings on the porch watching the sunset. A life built together, brick by brick, choice by choice.

Later, after we've helped clean up and said our goodbyes, I drive us back to my place—soon to be our place once Prue sells her place in Seattle. The roads are quiet, and the town settles into the peaceful hush of late night.

"What are you thinking about?" Prue asks, her hand resting on my thigh.

"The future," I answer honestly. "Our future."

She smiles, the moonlight catching in her hair. "I like the sound of that."

"So do I." I take her hand, bringing it to my lips. "So do I."