Page 74 of Blue Jean Summer

“That was some kiss,” I whispered.

Hayes’s dark eyes swirled with an odd mix of elation and eagerness. “I wanted a good memory in this garden.”

Four headstones peeked above the roses, privy to the admission.

“I wanted it with you,” he added.

Mason eased out of his seat and handed me my bouquet as Hayes offered his arm.

We turned and faced the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Esteemed guests and friends. I present to you, for the very first time, Mr. and Mrs. Wilder.”

The string quartet broke into a romantic rendition of an old country tune as Hayes and I headed down the aisle. He came to an abrupt stop halfway through the uppity onlookers and tipped me backward without warning.

I squealed in delight as he dipped me and went in for a kiss. The guests went wild.

It didn’t last nearly as long as I wanted it to. Hayes eased me up, pecked my lips one last time, and escorted me into the house.

Hallie, Mason, and Levi had slipped out and met us in the study as the crowd was dismissed for cocktail hour.

“That was some show,” Hallie said discreetly, just in case Lewis was lurking nearby.

But it didn’t feel like a show. It felt like…It felt like it should have. Natural. A little nerve-racking. But nerves weren’t always a bad thing. Nerves meant doing something unfamiliar.

I imagined this would be exactly how it felt when I did fall in love.

Exhilarating, but safe.

“Mr. Wilder. I was told you wanted to see me.”

The five of us turned at the sound of a man’s voice.

I didn’t recognize him, but from the looks of it, Hayes did.

“Mr. Allen,” Hayes said with a grin as he quickly offered a handshake. “Thanks for coming today.”

“Of course,” the man said. “Your grandfather wasn’t just a client. He was a dear friend.”

“I’d like for you to meet my wife, Catherine,” Hayes said.

I loved a four-letter word as much as the next girl, but the one I hadn’t expected to love was w-i-f-e.

I was Hayes’s wife.

I knew it was coming, but hearing it slip from his lips was shocking all the same. It sounded so natural; not a hesitation or stutter to be found.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I said as I shook the man’s hand. “How were you involved with Walt?”

“Likewise. I was his attorney for ages. The last time we were in this office was for a much sadder occasion. I’m glad to see it hasn’t stopped the joy from coming back. Congratulations.”

An attorney in the study. It sounded like a game of Clue, but it all made sense now. Mr. Allen was the executor of Walt Wilder’s will.

“If you don’t mind, I thought it would be fitting for you to be the witness on our marriage license,” Hayes said rather jovially as he pulled the document from the desk drawer.

Mr. Allen looked pleased. “I’d be honored.” He produced his own pen and scrawled his signature on the witness line.

Hayes shook his hand again. “Thank you.”