Chapter Nineteen
Bram
A fter the fifth attempt to tie my bow tie, I fling my hands up with a disgusted grunt. Cyrus laughs at me, tying his perfectly on the first try.
How does he do that?
Titus must feel sorry for me because he strides over and ties it, his eyes never meeting mine. It’s okay. I’m not in much of a talking mood at the moment. My life is about to change forever, and even though I know to my core this is the right move, I’m still questioning the sanity of it.
“Still time to back out,” Titus grumbles under his breath.
“I can’t. I won’t.” My words are firm, contrasting the erratic beat of my heart.
He finishes tying and pats my chest—it’s more like he’s knocking the life out of me. His eyes finally meet mine, and I can see the threat behind them. All week long, he and Cyrus have continued to voice their dislike of the situation. I know they’re only trying to protect their friend, but so am I.
“It’ll be fine, Titus,” I say, as much for my sake as his.
Narrowing his gaze, he merely grunts as a knock sounds at the door. Dad pops his head in, a wide grin on his face.
“Are you guys ready?”
Gulping, I freeze with my hands on my bow tie. Dad sees my deer-in-the-headlights look. Placing his hands on my shoulder, he looks me in the eye. “Son, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be an amazing husband to our Quinn.”
I don’t break eye contact as I let his strength and confidence seep into me. This is the right decision. God has given me peace. He’s given Quinn peace. Everything is going to be okay.
A half-hour later, I stand on the beach, my heart beating so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear it. I’m watching through a fog as Julie walks out first, followed by Lois and Ada. My chest tightens slightly as the bridal march begins. Everyone stands as Dad appears with Quinn clinging to his arm.
Time stands still even as Dad and Quinn draw closer. I’ve always thought it was stupid when people claimed that everything else faded away when the groom saw the bride, but it’s true. I don’t see anyone but her.
Nervous eyes meet mine as Dad leads Quinn down the sandy aisle, and my lips pull up in a wide smile. Her eyes widen for a half second then soften as a lovely pink blush forms on her cheeks.
The breath leaves my lungs for a moment.
She’s stunning.
My hands grow clammy the longer I stare at her. It feels like forever, yet it’s only seconds before she’s by my side. Biting her lip, she tilts her head up. So many emotions dance across her face. I take her hand, squeezing it. For better or worse, we’re in this together.
The ceremony is short, and before I know it, Pastor Woodhouse is saying, “You may now kiss the bride.”
I knew this was coming. We both did. It doesn’t mean that my shoulders don’t tense for a split second. I force them to relax as Quinn inhales a shaky breath. I’ll have to be the one to make the first move this time.
Placing one hand on her waist, I draw her closer and cup her face with the other hand. She’s trying not to panic as her eyes skate across my face, landing on my lips.
Why hadn’t we practiced this at least once?
Her breath hitches, stirring some base instinct inside of me. Tugging her gently against me, I lower my head until our lips meet in a sweet, soft kiss of promise. It’s all over in mere seconds, but as everyone cheers, it’s as if we’ve taken that first step to something more.
Of course, we have. We just got married.
As I loosen my grip on her waist and drop my hand from her face, I wonder if I wear the same dazed look she does.
During pictures, the photographer asks us to kiss again so she can get some shots. Quinn’s face pales slightly, her eyes darting to my mouth. I draw her close and whisper in her ear, “Trust me.”
Then, I cup her face with my hands and lean forward to brush a kiss on her forehead.
Quinn’s body is tense against mine. Without waiting for further instructions from the photographer, I wrap an arm around her, securing her to me, and lift her other hand before spinning her around a few times. Her eyes immediately light up, and the smile she sends me is so bright it puts the sun to shame.
Quinn begs me to be nice with the cake cutting, so I try to carefully let her bite it without smearing it all over her. But I’m not prepared for the jolt of electricity that travels through my body when her lips brush along my fingers as the cake drops into her mouth. My neck heats, and Quinn’s face reddens.
I’m sure that explains why the next second she smashes a piece of cake all over my face before rubbing it up and down my jawline as I stand there open-mouthed.
Her eyes dance as she laughs at me. Grabbing her wrist, I tug her against me, shocking us both. “Game’s on, Q,” I whisper against her ear, marveling a little when she shivers at the words.
Her blush deepens as she puts a little distance between us, but I can tell from the twinkle in her eyes that she’s up for the challenge.
The reality of everything slams into me at that moment. I’m flirting with Quinn. With my wife.
And the biggest surprise?
I’m pretty sure I like it.