Chapter 21 #2
Susan wore a beautiful beaded cover-up made of something white and gauzy, her flowered one-piece bathing suit visible beneath it, and sparkling sequins decorated her sandals. Owen had on tiny board shorts with a terrycloth jacket and hat to keep the sun off his delicate skin.
But Fernsby was, well, Fernsby, in a black suit identical to the one he’d worn at the gallery and the book signing.
Though Michaela couldn’t say she knew him well, she couldn’t imagine him wearing swim trunks or a Hawaiian shirt.
Then she saw a flash of color. Fernsby had made a small concession to beachwear in the form of a tie with beach umbrellas on it.
With great dignity, he seated Susan Spencer in the first row, the empty space beside her for her husband Bob after he’d walked his daughter down the aisle. As Fernsby returned, Michaela couldn’t stop a small gasp.
Grabbing Troy’s arm, she hissed, “Oh my God, he’s wearing socks with beach umbrellas that match his tie.”
Troy stared aghast at Fernsby as the man headed to a seat somewhere behind them, making some weird eye movement.
Still holding Troy’s arm, Michaela whispered, “Did he just wink?”
Troy gave her a look. “Of course not. Fernsby doesn’t know how to wink. That was a twitch.”
“That was definitely a wink.”
Instead of answering, Troy craned his neck to look back at Fernsby.
Then, almost to himself, he muttered, “He couldn’t possibly have winked.
” Turning to her again with a stunned gaze, he muttered, “But then, he’s never worn umbrellas on his tie or, God forbid, his socks. I’m afraid he’s lost his mind.”
Before he could say more, Cal Danniger breezed through, glad-handing his way down the aisle, then along the red carpet, climbing the steps to the yacht, and heading to the bow.
And the music began. Instead of the “Wedding March,” or even something like “Pachelbel’s Canon,” the Beach Boys sang “Good Vibrations.” And again, Troy leaned close—God, he smelled so good—naming everyone in the procession for her.
Some she’d met at the gallery. Others were new to her.
Daniel Spencer was first, guiding his lovely lady Tasha Summerfield, along the red carpet, the sailboats on Daniel’s shirt matching those on Tasha’s cover-up.
She carried a beautiful bouquet of flowers the same blue as their beach attire.
And they were close to dancing to the music as they made their way down the aisle.
It was the most unbelievable—and perhaps the craziest—wedding Michaela had ever seen. And she loved it.
Daniel and Tasha were followed by Ari and Matt Tremont, Charlie Ballard and Sebastian Montgomery, Paige and Evan Collins, Harper and Will Franconi, Kelsey and Tony Collins, Evan’s twin brother and sister, and finally, Rosie and Gideon Jones, all of them bopping down the red carpet in time with the music.
All dressed in matching beach attire, the men in Hawaiian shirts.
The procession took so long that Michaela was sure the Beach Boys song had looped.
Next to her, Troy murmured, “I’m going to need a bigger boat.”
She couldn’t stifle her laughter at the Jaws reference, and breathing in his delicious male scent, she whispered, “That is a very large wedding party.”
“I’m sure all the Mavericks wanted to be in on it. Lyssa is their little sister. Even though she’s related by blood only to Daniel, the boys , as Susan calls them, helped raise her since she was little more than a baby.”
As the group assembled in the bow of the yacht, Rosie switched places with Tasha, taking the matron of honor position opposite Daniel as the best man.
Troy said, “I bet that was a tough decision.” She tilted her head in question. “Rosie, Ari, and Lyssa are very close, since they’re all around the same age, and they had their babies very close together. Kelsey, Evan’s little sister, is part of their clique too.”
With a smile, she asked, “Is that how you and your brothers will be when Gabby gets married? Jostling for who’ll give her away?”
He laughed softly, taking her hand. “We won’t have to worry about that for a long time. Because she’s not going to lose this bet.” Just when she thought he’d say he had already lost the bet, he smirked at her. “Since you haven’t done your job by setting her up with the perfect date.”
She gasped and was about to insist it wasn’t her fault, when the music changed.
Another Beach Boys song, “God Only Knows,” rang out, this one slower, sweeter, and talking of love as Bob Spencer walked his beautiful daughter down the aisle.
Lyssa wore a lovely sarong patterned with butterflies, her skin bronzed against her matching bikini top.
The bouquet she carried was made not of flowers, but of silk butterflies that seemed to float in the slight breeze.
And atop her pretty head, taming her wild curls, was a wreath of silk butterflies.
As Bob, in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, walked his daughter along the red carpet to the yacht’s steps, Cal threaded through the wedding party throng to help his bride aboard. He broke protocol to kiss Lyssa sweetly on the lips before Bob led her to the arbor.
The officiant asked who was giving the bride away, and Bob answered, “Her mother and I do.”
Michaela caught herself before she gasped again. “Your brother Dane is their officiant?”
Troy’s mouth spread in a wide smile. “Lyssa and Cal both asked him to do it. They give him credit for getting them together. I’ll tell you the whole story later, but Dane went right out to get a license to officiate at their wedding. He was so damned proud.”
Her heart was beating hard, and she couldn’t say exactly why. Maybe it was that these two families, the Harringtons and the Mavericks, seemed so tightly bound together now. They had become one huge family.
For so long, it had been just her and her mother.
As beautiful as their bond was, she recognized how much she’d missed out on.
Her father had left her, and her grandparents had rejected her.
Only her mother had been there for her. The backs of her eyes suddenly ached with unshed tears for what she’d never had, but even more for what her mother had lost. Now Flo was in the throes of a brand-new romance, and all Michaela had done was try to throw monkey wrenches into it.
She’d been so unfair, slapping her own worries and fears onto her mother when she should rejoice that Flo had finally found some happiness. Reaching for her hand, she gave it a squeeze. When Flo squeezed back, smiling at her, Michaela mouthed, I love you.
Then she glanced down. Walter clasped her mother’s other hand, his thumb gently caressing her skin. Raising her eyes once again to Flo’s, she mouthed again, Be happy .
She knew her mother understood.
Bob returned to his seat next to Susan, and on the yacht, Lyssa and Cal began their wedding vows.
Holding Cal’s hands in both of hers, Lyssa gazed into his eyes with love shining through that even Michaela could see.
“I loved you from the first moment I saw you. I was never too young to know my own mind, and all I ever wanted was you.” Her soft laugh reached the assembly through the lapel mic on her bikini top.
“Thank God for that trip to London, where you finally saw the light.” She shot a look at Dane.
“And I thank Dane for making that trip possible.” Their audience chuckled, and Michaela couldn’t wait to hear their story.
Lyssa went on, her words heartfelt. “I thank you for our beautiful son and the beautiful life we have together. I will love you until my last breath. I will make it worth every long minute we waited to be together. I love you, and I’m so happy to become your wife.”
If there was a dry eye around her, Michaela couldn’t see it. Even she felt misty listening to Lyssa’s words.
Then it was Cal’s turn. “You’ve been in my heart from the very first day.
You were always an old soul, but I still had to wait for you to grow up.
I’ll never regret how long we waited, because I was able to watch you become the amazing, wonderful woman you are, the woman I love with all my heart.
I love the beautiful son we’ve made together with everything in me.
I’ve waited so long to make you my wife.
” He grinned at Dane then. “Believe me, even without that London trip—” He turned his gaze to Lyssa once more.
“—I would have found the courage to make you mine. You are the light of my life, and I will love you until the end of my days.”
Then it was time for Dane to say, “Now, by the authority vested in me by the State of California and the County of Monterey, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Then he grinned at Lyssa. “Or you may kiss the groom, depending on how you want to look at it.”
The crowd burst into laughter with him.
Cal pulled Lyssa in for their first married kiss. He was so gentle, so sweet, as if it were their first kiss, until it blossomed, their bodies melting together, Cal cupping his wife’s face and taking her mouth with an all-consuming passion.
Michaela ached deep inside. She wanted a man to kiss her like that—as if she meant everything to him, as if she was his entire world.
Exactly the way Troy had kissed her over and over again on their one and only night together.
Hugs and kisses went all around as the wedding party congratulated the newlyweds. Finally, they climbed down the steps and headed along the red carpet to the deck, where they were deluged by well-wishers. Troy held Michaela’s hand, not wanting to lose her in the crush.
Stepping into the aisle, Flo said, “Wasn’t that lovely?” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief Walter Braedon had given her, while the man kept a proprietary hand on her back.
Troy remembered Michaela’s worry over her mother’s new relationship, but seeing the look of pure adoration in Walter’s eyes, Troy had no qualms at all.
He hoped to start that joint venture with Walter, using the new machine Troy and Matt Tremont had designed. But even more, he hoped for a personal venture—he and Michaela, Flo and Walter. A smile rose to his lips as he pondered a few double dates.
Michaela might shoot him if he said that aloud.
Flo wound her fingers around his arm. “Your brother was a fabulous officiant.”
“I swear to God,” Troy said, “he spent hours online figuring out how to make it happen. You’re looking at a Deputy Commissioner for a Day.” The story gave everyone a good laugh, but the truth was that Dane had been extremely honored.
Their little group waited to offer their good wishes. It wasn’t exactly a receiving line, more like a throng around the happy couple.
Troy still held Michaela’s hand, with no intention of letting go. Not now, not ever.
The wedding had been heartwarming, and for the first time in his life, he thought of being a groom and didn’t feel chills down his spine.
Michaela Killian was funny, smart, driven, caring, and loyal.
As gorgeous as she was, that was her least important attribute, because on the inside, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
He didn’t just want her, he loved her. Sitting next to her during that wedding, he’d felt it with every fiber, every cell, every muscle and nerve in his entire body.
He was made for her. And she was made for him.
Now he needed her to see that.
Fernsby stood a short distance away from the crowd around the newlyweds. It was beneath him to wait in that madhouse. He would congratulate the ecstatic couple when the furor died down.
Right now, though, it was not the newlyweds who held his attention, but Troy and the lovely Michaela.
Of course, he’d engineered the entire love affair when he’d sent them off to have dinner all alone on that most miraculous night—the night Mathilda had signed his book. As he pondered what she’d written—those incredible words—he felt movement by his side, a rush of air, a wisp of perfume.
Looking down, he found Gabrielle beside him.
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“Remember how Troy always said he came stag to weddings so no one got ideas?” She, too, eyed Troy and Michaela.
“He’s definitely not going stag now.” Gazing pointedly at Michaela’s hand in Troy’s, she nudged Fernsby.
“He’s never held a woman’s hand at any event I’ve ever attended with him. ”
Fernsby smiled. He even let it broaden, since Gabrielle was concentrating on her brother. “I do believe the likelihood that you’ll win this bet is one hundred percent.”
Gabrielle flashed him a grin. “I knew it all along.”
Looking down at her once more, Fernsby allowed her to see that rictus of a grin on his lips. “That just leaves you, my dear.”
Her mouth fell open.
He tapped his finger under her chin. “You’re catching flies, Gabrielle.”
With something that could have been a squeak, she ran into the crowd around the newlyweds.
He said very softly, though no one could hear, “You can run, but you can’t hide.” Then he put his hand to his chest. “Because I am Fernsby. And I will find the perfect match for you.”