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He grabs me by the wrist, stretches my hand out, and pushes the ring on my finger.
It’s a miraculously good fit.The right fit.
How did he know?
I have about two seconds to admire the strange new wonder on my hand before he picks me up and flings me around, tossing me high in the air before he catches me against his chest.
I crash down in his arms with a kiss that has my whole soul.
His teeth sink into my bottom lip, hungrier than ever.
My hands dig at his shoulders, desperate to get naked, famished to feel the man who’ll spend the rest of his life devouring me.
It’s a long, chilly make-out session on the beach.
Probably the last time we’ll visit this place before the sun shines again, bright and warm and high overhead.
But with him, there’s always a new spark.
Always a fire.
And I’m not sad that I start crying when the realization hits me that we’ll get to enjoy this light and perfection for the rest of our lives.
* * *
Six Months Later
Our second tripto Las Vegas is a whirlwind.
This classy wedding came together slowly, a fusion of Dad’s wealth and Chris’ military stoicism that’s so fairy-tale it’s almost surreal.
No Elvis imposters here, but we’ll make do with the beautiful sun-soaked greenery and palm trees surrounding the sleek reception hall on Lake Las Vegas.
At the rehearsal, I meet everyone on his Enguard team, plus several other SEALs he goes back years with. He meets my extended family, including my ice-cold mother.
Honestly, she’s pretty easy after Hurricane Evie.
And even if she wasn’t, we’re not letting anything ruin today’s glory.
Mom also spends half the wedding glaring at my dad, quietly seething at how happy he looks with the lively new redhead on his arm.
Jenny couldn’t be more unlike Evie. She’s a bubbly anthropology professor with a good heart and a dash of her own awkwardness that compliments Dad’s adorably.
I smile every time I watch them, wondering if Chris and I will be just as cute someday when we’re old.
Eventually, though, the pleasantries end and the biggest moment of my life begins.
Showtime.
I’m hanging on Dad’s arm like a scared monkey as he leads me down the aisle in halting steps. I can’t feel my knees anymore; it’s like I’m walking on pure air.
“You’re doing fantastic, dear,” he whispers as every eye follows us.
I smile but I don’t dare fully turn to look at him.
I think my father’s tearing up almost as much as I am.
I’m also gripped by what’s waiting up ahead.
