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A band was playing, and there was an honest-to-God wedding cake off to one side. Mum rushed up to us, tears in her eyes.
"Oh, look at you. You’re so handsome. And you, Becca, you’re just a picture. But I have one thing for you. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.” She pulled out a little rosette made of our family’s tartan. “I thought you might wear it in your hair.”
It was a brilliant idea. It didn’t take away from her dress, and it wouldn’t be bothersome. I held my breath, waiting to see what Becca would say. Of course, my girl took it graciously and then examined it with a smile.
“That’s beautiful. Will you put it in for me?”
She handed it back to Mum, and the photographer circled like a shark who scented blood in the water, snapping photo after photo of my mother placing the bauble in my bride’s hair. Then Becca looked at me.
“This is a real wedding,” she said with a laugh.
I looked around and then back at my mother. “Aye, it definitely is.”
“I hope you two don’t mind, but this is the only time I’m going to get to see my boy get married. And his dear granddad will be so happy. Oh, the priest is already here too.”
“Priest? We’re already married.”
“Not in the eyes of God. You may have gotten married legally, but God still should bear witness.”
I rolled my eyes, then cut a glance at Becca. “You don’t have to do this.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. God should get a piece of this action too.” Then she rose on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “I want to marry you anywhere. Everywhere. Every opportunity. I mean, what does it matter if we’ve already done it once?”
God, I loved her. I loved her with a fierceness I didn’t know was possible. She gave me the same type of feelings I got from scoring the winning goal or stepping onto the ice for the first time for a game. She excited me. She thrilled me. She was full of possibility. But also, she gave me that victorious feeling of validation. The one that said I was worthy. I craved that feeling, and so far, only winning brought the same thing. With her, it was like every moment I was winning.
Fuck, I was a sap. I had tears in my eyes just thinking about how important she was to me. No way I was gonna get through a whole wedding ceremony without tearing my man card up in front of the entire town. You know what? I didn’t care.
“All right. Let’s do it. Let’s get married. In front of God and everyone.”
Mum clapped her hands, then squeezed me tight before doing the same to Becca.
In case you were wondering, I was right. I didn’t make it through the ceremony without crying like a fucking baby, but I hadn’t expected it to be so meaningful. So bloody powerful. Standing there with her in front of me, her gaze only for me as she promised she’d be mine and I did the same for her. It was different now. So different from some rushed courthouse nuptials.
As soon as we kissed and the crowd began cheering, Hamish jumped up on his seat and said, “All right, can we get this party started now? I want cake!”
Harry followed his brother’s lead and shouted, “I want to dance!”
Everyone laughed, even my sister, who at first appeared completely mortified.
We danced. We smiled. We shared so many kisses. I taught her a traditional Highland dance, and she joined with the crowd, smiling and laughing the whole time. I hadn’t ever seen her this happy, and that made me a little sad. I resolved that from now on, I would do whatever it took to keep her smiling like that.
At the end of the night, as things were winding down, my granddad approached my new bride. He looked more frail than I’d ever seen him, and it sent a pang of grief through me.
“I believe it’s my turn, since your father isn’t here darlin’.”
He handed me his cane and held out a hand to Becca. I didn’t miss how it shook. She cut me a worried glance, and I nodded. And then I watched as the woman I loved and the man who was more of a father than anyone had ever been to me danced together in the fading light of day.
We’d come here to make him happy. To give him something to celebrate at the end of his life. And instead, the old bastard had given me a brand new family without even realizing it. I sat with Becca, watching my nephews each dance with young girls from the town. I looked at her, marveling that I got to call this woman mine.
“Are you happy, love?”
“I’m so happy. Happier than I ever thought possible, actually. I really didn’t think love was real.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“But now I know it is.”
“Me too.”
