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“I love you too, hon. Now go marry that man and give me lots of grand babies.”
****
The sky was a swirl of ebony and charcoal as Naomi pulled the mule to a stop in front of the wooden bridge that would take me to the sand where Jacob was waiting.
I turned to her, feeling a rush of excitement that made my heart race and my mouth to dry.
"How do I look?"
She fixed a curl and gave me a big grin. "Fantastic, of course."
I flashed her an unsteady smile. "Thanks again. For everything."
I stepped out of the tiny vehicle and took a few steps before I stopped and turned back, panic gripping me by the throat. She flashed me a thumbs up and I relaxed a little, swallowing the golf sized knot lodged in my throat.
This was really happening.
I’m really getting married.
I took it one step at a time, remembering everything that brought me to this beautiful place. Bumping into Jacob Whitmore on the way to my interview. Mouthing off then realizing with horror that I'd just given the boss lip. Following him to the corridor and realizing that he had no intention of giving me an interview.
I bit my lip, the warmth of all those feelings rushing back to the surface. I had no idea that tryst would lead to the contract. And that signing on the contract Jacob used to keep people at a distance would have the opposite effect and I'd fall in love with him. And he'd fall in love with me.
I'd almost run out of bridge and I could see the warm glow of tiki torches near the water. A sheer white tent rose out of the sand, the fabric billowing in the breeze. I made out the outline of Jacob and another figure, assuming it was the officiant.
The person who would make me his wife. That would make Jacob my husband.
We’d come so far and braved so many obstacles. Tearing down the wall Jacob built to prevent being hurt. My self consciousness and doubt that a man like him could ever live happily ever after with me. Even She Who Will Not Be Named--fate didn't make it easy for us and there were moments when I wondered if we'd make it. But we did. He was waiting for me.
I stepped on the sand, the coarse grounds squeezing between my toes. I clutched the hem, hiking it up as I tried to maneuver to him and moved slower, sinking and fighting the wind and thick sand. The picture of me gliding to him like some beautiful mirage was quickly being replaced by the reality of a sweaty, flustered, red faced bride. When I got closer and saw him watching me like he didn't see the frustration or splotchiness, everything faded to black except for him. His dark, windblown hair, the white linen shirt and tan slacks. The look of pure adoration on his face and when I got closer and took his hand, the glassy sheen of tears in his eyes.
"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said softly, holding tight to my hand as his lips curved into a smile.
I moved closer, breathing in his warmth. His love. I looked up at him, giving him a playful smirk. "You're not too shabby yourself, Mr. Whitmore."
His deep blue eyes went serious, searching mine. "Are you ready?"
I brought a hand to his cheek, staring into the eyes that knew me. That loved me. "I'm ready."
The man that was to marry us stepped up, flashing a toothy grin that shone like the top of his head as he shook both our hands. "I'm Scott Douglas." His British accent was thick and welcoming. "Thank you for making me a part of your day. Shall we begin?”
We moved past the warmth of the torches, the flames whipping back and forth, creating shadows on the cool, white sand. The tent was sheer enough to see the stars twinkling in the dark night sky. Fragrant tropical flowers lined the floor around us. It was like we were standing in our own slice of Eden.
Jacob and I stood side by side, Scott moving to the forefront.
“I’ve been a minister for fifteen years, traveling to the different Caribbean islands and performing marriage ceremonies, I can tell you that Mr. Whitmore did provide me with an interesting first. He came to me before the ceremony and told me that this had to be perfect--or he’d have my head.”
I shook my head, smirking at Jacob. He’d threatened the poor man?
Scott let out a belly chuckle that made Jacob’s cheeks darken. “Don’t judge him too harshly. After I told him that I had a wife and grandchildren I wanted to see grow up, he relaxed and clarified. He told me that he never thought he’d find love. That he didn’t deserve it. But then he found you, Leila. And he wants to spend the rest of his life showing you how precious your love is...starting today.”
I gazed at Jacob, blushing furiously. “How romantic.”
When he met my eyes a smile split his lips. “I can be romantic if I have the proper inspiration.”
I had no doubt of that. The beach, the candles, the tent, the flowers--he’d handled all of it.
Scott beamed. “I was told you would like to exchange your own custom vows.”
