Chapter 40
Chuck: Where’s that fat orange cat at?
Lou: We are supposed to be focused on the game. Are you becoming a softy?
Chuck: No one can say no to the softness of a furry belly.
Lou: Now you know Waffles will curl up on your hand quicker than we can make tee time. You’ll come back with nothing but a nub when he’s done with you!
“Make me believe in life after death, you are beloved, so beloved.” Whisk in hand, I belt out one of my favorite songs by Ben Barnes. I’ve made waffles every single morning since Nochebuena.
Rocking my hips back and forth, I mix the ingredients in a big ceramic bowl and pour a third of a cup into the waffle maker. After much research, probably more than was needed, I found this to be the perfect amount. “No spill over, no spill over,” I sing.
“Come here, you little ham!” I hear Clinton whisper-yell to Waffles.
Those two must be at it again. Never in my life have I seen Waffles so wrapped around someone's finger.
The moment Clint touches his belly, whatever sweetness was there is gone.
And that damn man can't seem to stay away from the furball’s belly.
I shake my head and turn the waffle maker back over, shimmying my shoulders as I pull out my first waffle.
I hear them shuffling around the room, and when I hear an “Ouch!” and meow from down the hall, I set my whisk-microphone down and walk toward the room. “I swear to God, these two are out of fucking control.” I laugh to myself and turn the corner, crossing the threshold of the next room.
My shocked gasp immediately causes them to freeze.
They’re both sprawled out on the floor; Waffles is biting on the fingers Clinton has on his collar as he makes an attempt to clasp something on it.
His other hand is on our cat’s belly, and I know this is the moment of his downfall. I snicker at seeing them both.
“You must have touched his bel—” I stop short, in shock, when my eyes finally land on what he was attempting to put on the collar.
“I got it from here, big guy. No help needed, thanks to you,” he says to Waffles, and then his sole focus is on me.
I think I may have stopped breathing. My legs feel like they’re shaking because the man who I thought I lost seven years ago is down on one knee.
He's holding one of the most beautiful rings I have ever seen. “Come here, Dove.”
My feet move by what feels like their own accord, and root themselves in front of Clint. His hair is curlier and slightly fluffy having no product in it, his five o'clock shadow ghosts along his chin. I want to catalog every single second. I never want to forget what forever feels like.
“You ready, baby?” he asks, and I choke on a laugh but nod my head.
“Almost eight years ago you needed to run, to protect your heart in the only way you knew how. And now, you’ve chosen to run toward a future together.
You have allowed me to hold and protect your heart.
I want you to know just how serious your trust is to me.
You are everything, Paloma. I want you to know I never stopped thinking about you.
I never stopped hoping, because I knew you were the one.
I could feel it in every fiber of my being.
Because you were made for me as much as I was made for you.
Will you trust me from here until forever with your heart and be my wife? ”
With tears streaming down my face, I frantically nod my head.
“Yes!” It's the only word I can squeak out, and I think it's the only one that truly matters.
Clint lifts me into his arms and stands, kissing me deeply.
I pour all my love, all my heart, and all the tomorrows I want with him into this one kiss.
He backs up, setting me down and wipes away my tears with his thumb. He's so beautiful. So mine. His smile is so wide and bright, I don't know how I was lucky enough to have another chance with a man who loves me so thoroughly.
Sliding the ring on my finger, I press my lips to his once more. A smoky burning smell floats into the room and my eyes go wide and then I’m running. “My waffle!” I yell.
Clint shouts through a chuckle, I’m sure following behind me, “I thought we said no more running.”
Once the waffle is in the trash and we’ve eaten our fill, I look down at the canary yellow diamond sitting on my finger. It's wrapped in a halo of diamonds on a gold band and tears well up in my eyes again. “Do we have to wait?”
His head whips to mine. “What do you mean? You want to get married right now?”
“Would I be completely nuts if I said yes? We’ve waited for so long, I don't want to wait anymore. The only thing I want to do is forever with you.”
Clint rises from the couch and slips his sneakers on. He already has his deep green joggers on and a crisp, clean T-shirt. He turns to me and says, “Let’s go get married.”
A squeal falls from my lips, and I run to my room and slide on a pair of jeans and a white top. When I make it back to him, he’s holding a pair of my sneakers, ones that almost match his, and I slide them on.
The courthouse is almost a ghost town with it being later in the afternoon. Walking hand in hand with Clint, the only noise is soft chatter and our shoes against the floor. I don’t feel the urge to run…it’s nowhere in sight.
“Welcome. What can I do for you today?” the clerk asks and smiles as she notices our hands clasped together. “Lo-Lo, it's so good to see you.”
Hearing my childhood nickname surprises me. “Oh my goodness, Mrs. Stevens.”
“It's good to see you doing well. Your mom talks about you every time I stop into Sweet Bean.” She looks down at my hand, noticing the engagement ring. “It looks like congratulations are in order.”
I smile at her. My mom’s customers are all over the town. She makes everyone feel like family. “Sweet Bean is her pride and joy…and yes, we would like to get a marriage license.” Bouncing on my heels, I can't hold back my excitement while Clint rubs small circles on the hand he’s holding.
“You getting married soon? It has to be within sixty days.”
“We are going to see if our friend has time to do it today, actually,” Clinton responds. On our way to the courthouse we discussed getting married on the course by Glen, who happens to be a notary. Wildly, he is the only one we know.
No sooner does she hand us our certificate than we are rushing to the car. The excitement as we run to our forever feels incredible, and I laugh as we make it to the car and on our way to where it all started.
It's Clint and me, and our future is so close I can taste it. All we have to do is rush home to change into something more bridal. There’s a dress that stops just above my ankles I haven’t gotten the chance to wear yet that’ll drive Clint crazy in the naughtiest of ways.
With joy stretching across both of our faces, Clint turns to me.
“Let’s get ready for our forever, Dove.” I give his hand a squeeze as he leans in, giving me a lingering kiss before he makes his way to take a quick shower as I get ready.
I take in a deep breath and massage my cheeks, trying to lessen the hurt from how much I’ve been smiling.
I can’t contain my joy and how free I feel.
I smooth a makeup wipe over my face before I dab on a bit of cream blush, lip gloss, and a few swipes of mascara after curling my lashes.
Holy shit, I’m getting married. Rushing into my closet, I grab the cream-colored satin dress and unzip the side.
I turn to the mirror and take in my reflection as I pull the zipper back up.
The dress fits me like a glove. The neckline puddles at my clavicle. I smooth my hands over the fitted bodice and down my hips before turning around. It’s completely backless and sits dangerously low above my ass. I feel beautiful and more of a bride than I ever imagined I would.
My eyes well with tears, and I do a terrible job holding them back. I hear Clinton’s keys right before I dab the mascara from under my eyes.
I tuck one side of my hair behind my ear. It’s grown out to right above my shoulders, and I think I may like this length.
“You are…Wow.” Clinton stands in the doorway of my room, emotions clear in his eyes. He has a crisp, white button-up tucked into a pair of dark blue slacks. He looks so handsome. “You’re…Wow, I can’t believe I get to marry you.”
“Let’s go get married.”
The hills of the golf course are still my favorite. How the wind carries over each one, sending the fragrance of fresh cut grass our way. No matter what, it always seems to feel like a fresh start here. All the running around, we are finally here at this moment.
When we get out of Penelope and walk toward the sixteenth hole, I can hear chatter. “I hope we aren't interrupting anyone's game.” We picked this hole because it's so open, and in front of the water with the most beautiful view of the sunset.
“It's sunset. No one should be playing right now,” Clint says, and I want to believe him. When we hit the peak of the hill, we hear shouts of surprise. It's only been a couple of hours, but somehow our friends have been tipped off.
There are two rows of white chairs sitting in a semicircle in front of an arch made up of books. It's beautiful.
All I could focus on when Clint proposed was him.
I didn’t have time, or the emotional capacity, to call our friends.
I knew they would understand when we called them afterwards.
I didn't want to wait a moment longer. I wanted him. Our mulligan. But having my closest friends, both my parents, and Clinton’s family here with us… This feels complete and so very real.
Glen is standing in the front, near the arch of romance novels, while Cassidy and my mom are standing at the start of the aisle. Instead of the fear I was so certain I would experience if I ever let someone close for too long, I feel at peace as the sun warms my skin.
“I hope you didn’t think you’d be able to get married without us,” my best friend says with shining eyes, tears bristling at the edge of her lashes.
“Mija,” my mom whispers through uncontrollable love and emotion. “I’m so proud of you for healing and allowing yourself to be loved and to love in return.” She ropes her arm through mine. “You’re so beautiful.”
As my mom and I walk down the aisle, I see Jameson and Anderson sitting with the girls. Clinton’s mom and dad are sitting next to them, along with his Aunt Leshia and Selene.
When we reach my dad, I stop and extend my hand. “I don’t want to do this without you, Papi.”
“Oh, honey.” We share a watery smile as he stands, linking his arm with my other one.
I look over to the woman sitting next to him and assume she’s my future stepmom.
She’s gorgeous. Dark brown hair sits in soft curls below her shoulders with bangs that frame around her doe eyes.
She gives me a warm smile, and I find that when I return it, I’m glad she’s here too.
“I didn’t know if you would want me to walk you down the aisle. I wanted it to be your choice.”
With my parents at my side, I walk toward the man of my forever. “Who gives this stunning bride away?” Glen speaks up from under the arch.
“We do,” my parents speak in unison, and their words breathe new life into me. It doesn’t matter that they’ll never be together again because I see now they’ll always be here for me.
Glen nods to us and then begins, “I’ve overseen many swings, but this is a first for me, a swing into forever.
No take-backs—just love. Clinton. Paloma.
Marriage, much like golf, is unpredictable.
Some days, you might hit every single shot perfectly, while others you end up in the rough, wondering how you got there.
But you try again, and every single day you work to perfect your swing.
“The key to marriage and golf is patience, trust, and knowing you are both playing on the same team.” Glen turns to face Clint.
“Clinton, do you promise to stand by Paloma through every fairway and bunker, through the rough, and the green? To remind her she is stronger than she knows. To love her and cherish her through whatever life may bring your way?”
Clint squeezes my hands and pulls my wedding band from his pocket. Winking at me, he slides my ring on my finger before saying, “I damn sure do.”
“And Paloma, do you promise to stand by Clint through every high and low, to not let him take life too seriously? And to love him even when he watches every single major golf tournament, like it’s a national holiday?
Do you promise to see, cherish, and challenge him from today until forever?
” Glen nods his head for my answer. Shit, I don’t have a ring for him.
“Psst. Psssst.” I turn my head to look at my dad. He walks up to me and whispers in my ear. “This was your abuelo’s wedding band. I’ve always worn it, and I would love for it to stay in the family.”
“Thanks, Papi.” God, this fucking dust out here, I think to myself as I dab my eyes.
Turning back to Clint, I mouth “no running” and answer for everyone to hear, “Always. I do.”
“Well, alright! By the power vested in me, your favorite club manager, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Morrison. You may now kiss your bride.”
Clinton slides his hands to my hips and pulls me to him. “To forever, Dove.”
“Always.” And then he kisses me. The cheers from our family and friends fade to the background while his lips are pressed to mine.
Warmth courses through my veins, and I’ve never in my whole life felt love of this magnitude.
He dips me, and I giggle through the last of our smooch.
We walk down the aisle, hand and hand, toward our forever.
They all gather around us, the guys clapping Clint on the back. Cassidy runs up and hugs me tightly before turning to our friends and family. “Everyone better be at Shaken Tropes.”