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They’re still carrying their baskets inside the restaurants, even though their jobs were over once they spewed flowers on the carpet we rolled out on the beach.
Alex and I decided on a destination wedding. After we went public three months ago—Tara Delaware got the exclusive story first—things became a little gaga. On the bright side, the publicity helped Bree Shannon Finds Love #2 rake enough at the box office for the studio to greenlight Alex’s superhero spin-off.
I’ve always wanted a beach wedding, but with all the media attention, we couldn’t do that in San Francisco, or the place would be crawling with paps.
“I still can’t believe we’ve flown everyone to Hawaii,” I say to Alex. We’re sitting at the bride and groom’s table, watching our guests. The room is beautiful, decorated in shades of champagne and gold, with twinkle lights adorning the ceiling.
“I wanted you to have your dream wedding.” He kisses my hand, smiling mischievously. I can’t believe this gorgeous man is my husband. “You’re beautiful, Summer. I love your dress.”
“Thanks.”
I don’t just love my dress. I love, love, love it. Nadine, Logan’s wife, designed it, and it couldn’t be more perfect. She wrote down every single request I had, and I was half expecting her to tell me I’m crazy, but instead, she held up a finger and announced, “I know just what you want.” The result is a stunning mermaid-shaped dress with a lace pattern crisscrossing the skirt. The bodice is asymmetric on one shoulder, made of strips of intricately braided silk and lace.
“I can’t wait to take it off you,” he whispers.
Of course, that’s where he was going with it. Typical. But then again, I’ve been harboring thoughts of tearing that tuxedo off him all evening. Great minds think alike, right? “I can’t wait to make love to you, wife. I can’t wait to love you for the rest of our lives.”
He leans in closer, feathering his lips over mine.
“Remember! Keep the heat level under five,” I say breathily.
“I did a great job at the ceremony, didn’t I?” he counters.
“You did.” He was the perfect gentleman. Decent kiss. Too decent. Too gentlemanly. “And the entire time, I wanted to climb you.”
“Watch it, or I’ll use this as leverage tonight.”
I grin. “Excellent plan, husband.”
The DJ taps the mic, announcing it’s time for my speech. Alex went first, and he charmed the room from the get-go. He didn’t even seem to break a sweat, while my palms are already clammy. I’m not great with speeches, but I want to make one tonight.
“Are you ready?” Alex asks.
“Not one bit.”
“I’ve got you, Summer.”
I stand up, picking up the mic from the table, where Alex put it after his speech, and clear my throat. Yikes. Here goes nothing. I just have one rule. No tears.
“Thank you all for being here today and celebrating with us. I know flying across the country on such short notice wasn’t easy for some of yo
u.”
“Girl, you could’ve gotten married on the moon, and we’d be right next to you,” my brother Blake calls from the table nearest to us.
“First, I want to thank some very important people for making me into the woman I am today. Mom and Dad, you’re the best, seriously. You’ve been our rock, always.” I sweep my gaze to my eldest siblings next. “Sebastian, Logan, and Pippa... growing up, I looked at you for guidance as much as I did to Mom and Dad. I couldn’t have asked for better role models. You have done so much for our family. I don’t know how to repay you, except by meddling into your lives the way a baby sister should. I hope you don’t mind, because I plan to keep doing it.”
Oh shit, I detect glassiness in Pippa’s eyes and feel tears swell in my own. No, no, no. I’m not even half done. I still have to keep it together for a bit.
“Alice, when I was ten and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I used to tell them, I want to be Alice when I grow up. Everyone thought that meant I want to copy your fashion style. But I just wanted to be as kickass as you are.”
Alice is fighting a sniff. Pippa looks up at the ceiling, flaunting her palms in front of her eyes, as if trying to dry them.
“We should have taken the waterproof mascara,” Pippa complains. I think she meant to whisper, but since the room is silent, her words reverberate through the space.
“You girls aren’t wearing waterproof mascara?” I inquire, hoping I’m misunderstanding.
“I thought the risk of turning into raccoons will motivate us to keep it together. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea,” Alice mutters, then draws in a deep breath. Yikes. On I go with my speech. I turn my attention to the first pair of twins.
