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He pauses once he stands above me, boxers back on. Mismatched eyes glance at me, then away. His voice is unsure.
“You still in, Jessica?”
I catch his hand and press a kiss to those hairy knuckles. “I’m in. I’m so in.”
For a big man, he practically floats out the door, and I watch him go with a burning sensation in my heart.
I love him so much. This is real.
This is happening.
8am can’t come fast enough.
Murray
We marry at noon at the top of the lighthouse. The mail order bride program made these arrangements weeks ago, with everything in place just in case we decided to sayyes.
And we’ve decided. Fuck me, have we decided.
Well. I don’t think the organizers pictured a safety harness over the bride’s wedding gown, but I don’t care. I won’t take any chances. Not with my girl.
“We’ll get pretty photos of you in that dress on the beach.” I press the words against Jessica’s temple while a handful of strangers bustle around us, preparing for our wedding to begin.
No friends or family. We’ve both flown solo before now.
Not anymore.
“You gonna boss me around like this once we’re married?” She pokes the front of my waistcoat, teasing me.
I nudge her back, dropping my voice. “If you want me to.”
I’ll do anything to make her happy. Anything.
Jessica MacGregor. How did a man ever get so lucky?
“Two minutes,” one of the organizers calls. We both nod, then tangle our hands together and face the sea.
It’s calmer today. No sign of last night’s storm, with flat silver water and pale skies all around.
A seagull whirls above us, right over our heads. Jessica squints up at the bird and mutters, “Don’t you freaking dare.”
My laugh rolls over the cliff side. They must hear me for miles around.
“It’s supposed to be good luck, you know.”
“Even better luck not to shit on the bride.” She’s grumbling but she’s happy. There are twin patches of pink on her cheeks.
I squeeze her hand. “I’d roast the gull for you for dinner.”
It’s her turn to laugh, and it makes me feel a thousand feet tall.
The ceremony is quick, our words whipped away on the breeze. Doesn’t matter. We hear our vows, and we both mean them down to the marrow of our bones.
“Do you, Murray MacGregor, take Jessica Brown to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
I look my personal miracle in the eye, my rib cage cracking open. I’ve never meant two words more.
“I do.”
