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Rice is tossed on our way out, and we all stay outdoors for the reception. With the ocean before us, and everyone seated around the grandest table, joy fills the air.
Gabby brings the stroller, and I gently place Penelope inside. At last, I can gaze at my newlywed husband. He is looking tired with noticeable bags under his eyes, but he's also looking as happy as a child on Christmas morning who stayed up all night.
“You didn’t sleep?” I caress the side of his hair.
“Just barely,” he says. “Boys dragged me to a luau, but I behaved. I promise!”
He raises his right hand as if swearing in court, and I giggle as I place my hand over his.
“I’m happy,” I say, feeling a catch forming in my throat.
“I’m happy too.” He kisses my hand.
“Smile for the camera!” The loud photographer calls for us, and mom shakes Sophia to smile because today I won’t allow for anything other than the brightest of smiles.
“A picture of the bride and groom?” the photographer asks, coming closer.
“Of course,” Logan tries to keep it serious, but ends up smirking like a teenage boy when he pulls me close to kiss me.
Epilogue
LOGAN
Wewatchthesunsettogether, lying over the white sand of the secluded beach.
We are still there when the moon rises in the sky, a beautiful crescent moon that glows over us like a jewel.
Joyce and I have been silent for the last half hour, but no words are needed right now — just feeling each other’s presence is enough.
The wind blows cool after a day of sun. She crosses her arms and nestles herself close to me, and I embrace her a little tighter, kiss her temple, and hold her hands.
“Wanna go inside?” I break the silence.
She looks over her shoulder. Right behind us, there’s a tent. It’s built out of flowy white fabric, lit by tiki torches, especially built for us. She just simply smiles and nods, stands up, and guides me towards the tent by the hand.
Inside the tent, there’s a luxurious bed made, and a bucket of now-melted ice with a champagne bottle waiting for us.
Joyce goes to lay over the mattress and pillows, and I reach for the bottle to open it. The cork releases with a satisfying pop, and she squeals with excitement. I pour two flutes and hand one to her, then go sit on the bed by her side.
“Are you sure we’re alone here?” Joyce asks, sipping gently from her drink.
“We better be,” I say in a tone of complaint. “I paid good money for this beach.”
She raises an eyebrow, confused. “You bought this beach?”
“No!” I laugh. “It’s rented. And guarded! But I can buy you a private beach if you want me to…”
I take her hand to kiss, and she giggles like a child.
“No need,” she says. “I think all beaches should be public.”
I tilt my head and take a sip of the champagne, “But you got to admit that it helps preserve them.”
“Public policy could help too!” Joyce says, enthused.
I, on the other hand, let out a bored sigh.
“Do you really want to discuss politics on our honeymoon?” I tease her.
