End Goal A Short Story Bonus #2
“I’m sorry, Camden,” she mumbles against my shirt before looking up at me, her brown eyes full of pain and embarrassment. “This is so stupid. I shouldn’t care about this, but I do. I don’t want to be the bride everyone feels sorry for because there’s only one friend on her side of the church.”
“So let’s get married alone,” I reply, my voice rising in pitch.
She scoffs and shoves me in the chest. “Be serious. Your family would murder you.”
“I don’t give a toss.” I tilt her chin up so she looks me in the eyes and sees how serious I am. “I care about you and me. My family will get over it. Most of them at least. Tanner will probably weep for a few weeks, but he’ll be fine.”
Indie smiles at the image and shakes her head from side-to-side. “We can’t possibly elope, can we?” she asks, her voice sounding mildly hopeful.
“We can do whatever we want,” I exclaim, tossing my hands out wide. “Let’s do it this weekend. We’re both off, which basically never happens in the world of football. It’s a sign, Specs. It’s meant to be.”
Indie bites her lip and adjusts her glasses, clearly thinking through all the details like the sexy nerdling she is. “Are you completely sure you’re okay with it just being us? I don’t want you to do this because of what the players are saying, and I don’t want you to have regrets.”
“I’m one hundred percent sure I want to marry you this weekend…Just us,” I add, stepping in and hugging her to me again. I press my forehead to hers and whisper, “Let’s go make those cocky bastards shut their arrogant mouths.”
Indie
“The piper’s ready for ye!” the wedding planner states in a thick Scottish accent as I stare at myself in the mirror of the hotel lobby in Gretna Green, Scotland.
I’m wearing a simple pleated, strapless wedding dress.
The ivory colour compliments my fair skin, and the skirt is just full enough to make it feel like a wedding dress.
The sweetheart neckline gives it a sexier feel while the row of buttons up the back adds a touch of elegance.
No accessories and definitely no glasses. I can’t wait for Camden to see me.
We only had three days to prepare everything, and doing it all without his family finding out was incredibly difficult.
Those five Harris siblings are balls-deep in each other’s lives.
His sister called three times when we were on the train yesterday.
Even my best friend, Belle, nearly figured things out when she caught me shopping in our old neighbourhood in East London a couple days ago. It’s been a whirlwind!
But Cam has always loved a challenge.
Now we’re here, at the Gardens Hotel in Gretna Green—a village in southern Scotland, over the border of England.
It’s famous for runaway weddings, dating back to the 1800s.
Young lovers would cross the border to defy their families and get married in secret, which is perfect for what Cam and I are doing.
The Harris family is going to flip when they find out what we’ve done, but I couldn’t be happier right now.
From the exciting train ride, to arriving at the station, to a limo escort, everything has clicked into place.
The wedding planner took care of all the details, including separate hotel rooms for the night before.
It was important to me to have some traditional aspects in our elopement.
I didn’t want to lose all the elements of a normal wedding just because it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.
At our romantic dinner the night before, I swear you couldn’t wipe the smiles off our faces because we knew what we were about to do. Not even rain on my wedding day will bring me down.
I move through the lobby to the rear exit that leads to a stunning garden filled with perfectly manicured hedges and a giant Japanese red maple tree. Drops of rain glisten on the petals of purple heather blooms that head toward a small pond where Camden awaits.
“Whenever yer ready,” the wedding planner says, handing me an open umbrella. “Good luck.”
She moves back as I tuck myself underneath and step out into the light mist. An elderly man strides up from behind her, wearing a traditional Scottish kilt and carrying enormous bagpipes in his arms.
He smiles a crooked-tooth smile and says in his thick accent, “They say rain on yer wedding day means good luck for fertility.” He shoots me a lewd wink and I can’t help but laugh.
“That’s good to know.”
“Are ye ready, lass?” he asks, putting the reed of his instrument in his mouth.
I clutch my bouquet of pink roses and give him a quick nod. “Completely ready.”
And just like that, I’m walking through a beautiful—albeit wet—Scottish garden with a traditional Scottish bagpiper leading me down the aisle.
When I carefully cross over a stunning, red-railing arched bridge, I finally see my future husband standing tall and proud under the rustic pagoda.
Camden is, of course, kitted out in a kilt himself. It was a bit of a shock when he said he wanted to wear one. But when the wedding planner showed him the tartan for the Harris name and he nearly wept with joy, I couldn’t say no.
God, he actually looks sexy. The knee-high socks are exactly like the ones he wears on the football pitch, and the suit jacket is tailored to his build perfectly. What can I say? I like my man in a skirt!
My focus on him is diverted when the bagpiper in front of me trips over a stone. He belts out a cringe-worthy, nasally note as he tumbles to the ground, landing hard on his elbow. Without pause, I rush over to him and drop my umbrella on the ground.
“Are you all right?” I ask, squinting through the rain and placing my free hand on his ankle.
The Scotsman’s eyes go wide. “Yer hair, lass. Yer dress!” He nearly drops the bagpipes as he grabs the umbrella to hold over my head from his position on the ground.
“It’s fine,” I state, pushing my long red hair back behind my shoulders.
The hairdresser spent hours taming my mane into perfectly smooth tendrils, but I knew it would never last as soon as I saw the rain.
Curly hair problems. “Are you hurt, though? It looked like you might have twisted your ankle. Stay still while I have a look.”
His eyes are nearly hidden amongst the crinkles that take over his entire face. “Aye, I’m right as rain. Just an old geezer who cannae watch where he’s walking.” He wipes away the mud on his knee and smiles apologetically.
I smile and shake my head. “It must be difficult with that thing strapped to your front.”
He nods and hands the umbrella back to me so he can stand. With great effort, he pushes up off the ground and readjusts the bagpipes over his chest. “Let’s get ye married, aye? Or perhaps ye want tae ditch this wee lad and run away with me instead? I promise, I’m more agile than I look.”
I erupt into laughter as the cocky bagpiper waggles his brows at me suggestively.
“Everyone okay?” Camden’s voice pulls my attention away as I look over and see him approaching. He’s left his position under the dry alter where we’ll exchange our vows. Rain beads off his wool suit jacket and down his arms, but something about his blue eyes in the grey daylight is dreamy.
“We’re fine,” I reply with a laugh. “Although, it’s good you’ve come. I think our proud piper here was just about to whisk me away to the Highlands.”
Camden frowns at the old man, who doesn’t look the least bit intimidated as he places the reed in his mouth and begins playing again with an extra flourish and more eyebrow waggles.
Cam turns back to me in confusion. “I think I should walk you the rest of the way. I don’t trust the twinkle in that bloke’s eyes.”
With a huge smile, I reach out and grab his hand, pulling him under the umbrella with me. “Sounds perfect.”
He smiles down at my rain-drizzled face, his own just as damp as his smoothed back hair. When his body presses up against mine, I instantly wish we were done with the wedding part and in our honeymoon cottage.
“It’s strange to see you without your glasses, Specs,” Camden murmurs softly, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“It’s strange to see you wearing a skirt, Camden,” I retort, glancing down and taking in his suit jacket, vest, and red tartan tie that matches his kilt.
“It’s called a kilt. It’s very manly,” he corrects with a tight jaw. “And just wait ‘til you see what’s underneath. That’s definitely manly.”
I can’t help but giggle and roll my eyes—a very familiar response when it comes to my future husband. He drops a kiss on my forehead, then pulls back to look at my full body.
“If I were smarter, I would have let you struggle a bit longer in the rain.”
“Why is that?” I ask, my brows knitting together as I look down at my dress that has a good inch of mud on the hemline.
“Because your dress is white.” He waggles his brows and glances down at my chest with a lascivious smirk.
“You’re cockier than the bagpiper I think,” I murmur under my breath and jab him in the ribs with my bouquet.
“And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he replies quickly, his face losing all humour as he stares straight into my soul.
My kneejerk reaction is to complain about my ruined hair or my runny makeup, or maybe whine about how I didn’t have time to get my dress hemmed and now it’s ruined by the rain.
But I’m too happy to let all those thoughts cloud my mind.
Today I’m marrying Camden Harris and nothing is going to get me down.
As we follow the bagpiper down the aisle, Camden holds the umbrella over us and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Hey, Specs, why does Snoop Dog need an umbrella?”
I look up at him curiously. “Why?”
“For drizzle.”
Camden’s pun causes a laugh to burst unexpectedly from my belly, and I think it caught the bagpiper off guard because he let one of those high notes slip again. Thankfully, he didn’t trip.
We finally make our way up to the safety of the pagoda in one soggy piece.
Our earlier teasing is forgotten when the registrar begins the service.
Camden and I face each other, holding hands beneath the hanging glass lanterns that twinkle yellow lights all around us.
A portable heater warms my bare arms and shoulders as I adjust my strapless dress.
I wipe at some mud splatters on my skirt that only end up smearing, and I’m instantly transported back to the first time I met Camden.
He was covered in mud and laid out on a stretcher, playing the part of a cocky football player. But he wasn’t only an athlete womaniser looking to have sex with his surgeon. He was a Harris Brother, which meant more than I ever could have ever realised on my own.
The registrar indicates it’s time for us to say our vows to each other, and Camden is the one to go first.
“Indie Porter, I promise to love you more than cheesy puns, more than James Patterson novels, and more than football. I promise to pour you coffee every morning and let you spoon me every night without talking about it the next day. I promise to be understanding when you’d rather read a boring textbook than watch telly with me.
And I promise to be fully supportive of your career in sports medicine, no matter how many blokes you have to put your hands on.
“You made me want more out of life, Specs. You saw so much more in me than just my family and football. You helped me see a life outside of my own little world. Because of that, for the rest of my life, everything I have is thine. All my possessions, my wisdom, my humour, my hopelessness and hope, my passion and, above all, my love is thine, as thou art mine.”
Tears slide down my cheeks as he repeats the mantra that has become my most treasured words out of his mouth. He said them to me the first time we made love. Every time I hear them now, I remember exactly what made me fall in love with him.
The registrar gestures for me to begin, so I take a deep breath and steel myself to speak from the heart, which has never been as easy for me as it has been for Camden.
“Camden Harris, I had a list of qualities for the kind of man I wanted to marry. A description. A type. I had everything planned out. Then you happened.” I pause and fail to wipe the smile off my face as I have flashbacks of Camden and his brothers barrelling into my hospital.
“I had this person’s character traits listed out in great detail, but the one thing that was never on my list was love.
Love was a foreign concept to me because of how I grew up.
That’s why I appreciated my charts and checklists.
They gave me a sense of purpose. But you were someone I never could have planned on because you don’t belong on a list, Camden.
You belong with me. You were meant for me, and I’m so grateful to take the Harris name today.
I’m ready to be a part of a real, genuine family…
with you. You are my family, Camden. You’ve shown me what love feels like.
Because of that, I will be thine forever and always.
Thank you so much for being inappropriate and kissing me in the hospital when you were my patient. ”
Camden laughs, his glossy eyes spilling tears down his face. “I believe it was you who kissed me in the surgical theatre later on.”
I giggle. “We are full of inappropriate moments.”
He nods proudly. “And now we’ll have a lifetime to make more.”
The registrar says a few more things I don’t hear. But when he says we can kiss, he has my full attention.
Camden leans in, cups my face in his hands, and presses his lips to mine in the most tender, soul-affirming kiss of my entire life. It isn’t a kiss of passion or lust, sex or attraction. It’s a kiss that feels like home and a lifetime of promises to be there for each other, no matter what.
THE END