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“The sun isn’t going to wait for us,” he said as he led me through the bedroom.
The warm breeze sifted through the open doors. It was filled with the warmth and love that surrounded me. Not just Vincent’s, but his family’s . . . my family’s.
I stopped to peer into the mirror at the dresser.
“Haven. You’re perfect. You’re my perfect.” He smirked. “And I’m yours.”
I bent down to grab my sandals when he tugged, throwing me off balance so I landed in his arms. “Barefoot baby. And soon pregnant if I have any say about it.”
My heart skipped a beat at the thought; we’d decided not to use condoms anymore, so that was a possibility, although I was clear that even if I did get pregnant, I was finishing school. He was good with that. He knew how important it was for me to get a degree.
Our argument had been over him wanting to buy out Kite so we could have the condo to ourselves. Of course, I was uncomfortable with him paying for everything and I had nothing to contribute.
I had a feeling though that Kite would move out soon anyway. I’d noticed he never brought chicks home anymore and I guessed it was because of what happened with Lily and me.
Crisis had proposed to me two days after I was shot in the hospital. I’d had years stolen from me and I wasn’t wasting what I was gifted. And he was a gift. I loved him. He was my best friend and my lover.
I smiled, reaching up and cupping his cheek and he leaned toward me, his brilliant blue eyes dancing with playfulness. “Then we better go get married first.”
“Fuck yeah.”
Then he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and jogged down to the beach where his parents, Ream and Kat, her brother Matt, Kite, Logan, Emily, Isabelle, Dana and Dillon, all waited. Luke and Roman stood on the outskirts, but I was glad they were there, too. The only two missing were Deck and Georgie, who, according to Vic, declined the invitation; they were on an extended vacation.
Crisis carried me to the altar, and I heard a few chuckles at our grand entrance. Then he slid me down his body to my feet, rested one hand on my hip, the other on my ass and kissed me. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was deep, dirty and sexy and without a hint of concern that everyone was watching.
“Are we doing the ceremony backwards today, young man?” the officiant said.
We separated, although not by much. Our lips merely unlocked. Then Vincent ‘Crisis’ Wesson married me as the sun went down on the beach, barefoot with our family around us.
The End
