“I’ve made mistakes and taken you for granted. I let everyday monotony get in the way of telling you I love you even when my heart was aching to reach out and tell you anyway. I want to promise from this moment forward that I will never allow that to happen again. It won’t be perfect—and who wants perfect, because that’s boring, right?”
She lets out a small laugh, sniffling back more tears.
“You and our daughters are the best things to ever happen to me—the best things that will ever happen to me. It took almost losing you to remind me how lucky I am, but just looking at you, holding you, loving you—I’d be a fool to ever let you slip through my fingers again.
“Five years ago I made these vows to you, and I meant them then, too, but now—a little older, a little wiser, a little stronger from our struggles—I’d tattoo them on my body to prove to you what I’m willing to do to make you happy and keep you by my side… forever, baby.” It’s hard to fight my own tears now. I don’t know if my words can even do what I’m feeling justice. I’d walk the world a million times over just to prove to her what she means to me.
“Dec, not you.” She swipes at my eyes, collecting the few tears that managed to escape. “If you cry, I’m really gonna lose it.”
Damn it! Waterworks on my wedding day—what a pussy. Ah, fuck it! I’m a sentimental pussy and not too ashamed to admit it.
“I can’t help it, Mi.” I’m practically on the verge of sobbing. It’s completely overwhelming. I love her so much it takes over my whole body. I lean into her, the two of us wrapping our arms around each other and letting the emotions pour out. We need this moment as a sort of cleansing; an uninhibited flood of pent up, ignored feelings.
I never want to let go, but when the minister clears his throat, I know it’s time. “Mia, do you have vows of your own?” he asks.
When I pull away from her to straighten out my suit and regain some composure, I notice her trembling. This has been one emotional afternoon and I know how overcome she has to be. I don’t need to put her on the spot or for her to say anything to know how she feels. “Mia, you don’t have to say a word. I know. I know you’re mine. That’s all that matters.”
She looks at me, our eyes connecting. She knows I understand. Finally, she turns to the minister with a shy shrug, then back at me saying, “I can’t think of anything that will top that, Dec. So… to the boy in the library who stole my heart with a song and fought for our forever… ditto to everything you just said, babe.”
The minister smiles and lets out a tiny chuckle. “It’s clear you two don’t need many words to speak of your love for one another.”
“We don’t,” she answers, “but my husband sure does have a beautiful way with them.”
We share a knowing glance of adoration, and the minister takes this as his cue to complete the ceremony. “Well then, Mia. Declan. By the power vested in me by the state of Rhode Island, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He glances at me with an arched brow and a nod. “Declan, you can kiss her now.”
“Sheesh, Rev, I thought you’d never say it.” Without another word, I claim my wife all over again. If there was a way to make our bodies one—without offending the minister—I would do it right here on this beach. But instead, I opt for a knock-her-off-her-feet, romantic kiss, before I lift her into my arms and carry her down the aisle.
She leans over my shoulder to retrieve her bouquet from the minister and then we head down the aisle to the band’s string version of All You Need is Love.
As I lean down to steal another kiss from her smiling pink lips, I can’t help but ask, “Well, I’d arranged for a candlelit dinner on the beach—complete with our kick-ass band over here to create some after dinner dancing music, but… mind if we skip right to the honeymoon part instead?”
She hooks both arms around my neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at the base. “Why, Mr. Murphy, that sounds like the perfect way to start the rest of our forever—part two—together.”
Hmmm, I like the sound of that. “Here’s to forever, part two, baby.”
“Here’s to us.”
For such a simple dress there sure are a lot of buttons and ribbons to untie. If I didn’t like it so much, I’d just tell him to rip it the hell off.
I’ve never wanted his hands on my skin so badly. Maybe it’s the idea of consummating this all over again but—nah, he’s just flipping hot and I need this man inside me.