Chapter 14 Sam
SAM
I can’t stop looking at Rosie. She’s got another dress with roses on, which isn’t going to help keep me from saying her new name out loud.
The dress is navy blue with large yellow roses, made out of a fabric that moves easily in the breeze. Fabric I’d like to run my hands over. Fabric I’ll touch when I ask her to dance later.
Colin says something that makes everyone chuckle, including the woman who has all of my attention.
She’s much better at paying attention than I am, but when her eyes land on me, I don’t look away, and for what feels like an eternity, we just look at one another.
I like looking at her. Probably too much considering our present circumstances.
I don’t hook up at weddings. We are far from home.
She has a kid. And yet every time I get a glimpse of her, it’s like feeding an appetite I wasn’t aware was hiding within me.
This feels like more than only wanting a few hot hours with someone. She’s different.
I see her eyes widen, and my smile grows because she’s still looking at me. But then I watch as they quickly look to my right, and she tilts her head, and it dawns on me that I’m failing at my only duty of the ceremony.
The officiant’s hand is there, open, waiting for the rings that are tucked in the sporran hanging at my waist.
Laughing nervously I fumble to open the thing and then have to use an excessive amount of brainpower to hand the ring box over without dropping it on the stone beneath our feet.
A quick glance reveals Rosie’s eyes back on me as she hides her laugh in Maggi’s hair.
I should be embarrassed about why she’s laughing, and yet it’s the last emotion I feel as I watch the corners of her eyes crinkle with the force of her smile.
A kind of pride I haven’t felt in years radiates through me. I did that.
Everyone breaks into applause as Sarah and Colin kiss, and then the jaunty tones of the recessional song begins, cueing the bridal party to head back down the aisle.
Maggi bounces in her mother’s arms, clapping to the beat, and as the bridesmaid I’m paired with slips her arm into mine, I make a split-second decision to offer the other to Maggi as we pass by.
In one swift movement she’s in the crook of my arm and resting on my hip, giggling as we dance back to the garden.
“You were the best flower girl there ever was,” Martha cries when she and Thomas join us after congratulating Sarah and Colin.
Maggi holds her arms out to her grandfather, and I let him slip her out of my grasp. The bridesmaid who accompanied us is already off with the others, reaching for champagne while I stand there awkwardly.
“Mommy!” Maggi squeals when her mother walks through the arched hedge. “I danced with the prince.” She points over at me, and I offer her a bow, which sends her into another giggle fit.
“The prince is very generous with his time,” Rosie says, sparing me a smirk before her attention returns to her daughter as Thomas sets her down. “Now, are you ready to smile for all the pictures?”
Maggi smiles wide with her hands clasped in front of her. Showing everyone what she’s going to do when told to smile.
“Perfect, Roo,” Rosie praises, bending to straighten her dress that must have shifted while she was passed between me and Thomas.
The photographer calls the wedding party to follow her, and I hang back with the intention of walking with Sarah’s family.
“Thank you for including her in the recessional,” Rosie murmurs quietly as we walk down the path toward the loch.
I shrug and go to slip my hands in my pockets, only to remember that I don’t have any. Damn kilt. “Figured she should get to partake in both directions.”
“Well, she’ll be talking about it for weeks, probably. It’s not every day a prince carries you around.” She winks, and I nearly trip over my feet.
I want to drop to my knees and show her how not a prince I am. How very unprincelike I can be if given the chance. Treat her like a fucking queen. Let her use me however she wants.
“Samuel!” Pierre’s voice pulls me out of my inappropriate thoughts. “Allez!”
“Your posse awaits, Your Highness,” Rosie purrs, bowing her head as she lowers herself in a deep curtsy.
Forget it, I could be a prince.
I try to come up with an adequate response but only manage to stare back dumbly as I skirt around Maggi and make my way to the guys, my eyes glued to her until I turn away, peeking back over my shoulder to find her grinning back at me.
This is starting to feel like a game. Like she’s enjoying these little interactions as much as I am, which isn’t helping. I should probably keep my distance from here on out. Stick with the wedding party. Flirt with someone else who’s single, childless, and far less alluring instead.
The next hour we spend either waiting to be photographed or trying to act like we aren’t being photographed.
One of the underrated things about having been a professional athlete is that I’m comfortable in front of the camera.
I’ve done my fair share of modelling. All the guys have, and the photographer isn’t shy about letting us know we’re the best groomsmen she’s had the pleasure of working with.
A compliment that doesn’t go to a single one of our heads as we up our peacocking.
At some point I end up next to Maggi while group pictures are being taken, and she spends most of the time peering up at me and smiling. Eventually, I pick her up so she can stop craning her neck and then dare her to look at the camera for longer than me.
I hear the camera shutter three times before her hand is tugging at my beard.
“Hey! That hurts, princess.” I smirk while trying to sound like I’m in pain.
She drops her hand quickly, her eyes widening in worry. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” The shutter sounds a few more times, and I nod toward the photographer. “Time to smile again. Let’s see how big you can smile this time.”
Maggi turns and sits up taller in my arms as a huge smile spreads across her face. She’s smiling so big that her eyes nearly disappear behind her cheeks.
Rosie stands behind the photographer, giving her daughter a big thumbs up, and when the photographer tells us we’re free, Maggi squirms out of my arms and runs to her mom.
For some reason I take a step as if to follow before reminding myself that I am going to stay away from her.
The longer I stay away from her, the easier it will get, so I better start now.
It’s a great plan in theory, but this is not exactly a large wedding, and Maggi seems to wave at me every five minutes because no matter where I end up, I’m in her line of sight.
And I’m not an asshole, so I wave back, which inevitably means I see Rosie, and she smiles at me, and then I spend the next five minutes reminding myself why I need to keep my distance.
This is shaping up to be the longest night of my life.