Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Cara
I don’t know how many people have come to watch me get married. I have no idea if there are more guests on the bride’s side or the groom’s side of the aisle. I’m not even clocking Gin’s current facial expression.
All I can see is Hayden smiling at me.
He looks absolutely delicious in his suit, of course, but it’s his expression that draws me down the aisle to him. Confidence. Certainty. A warmth that keeps him from looking arrogant.
And a glimmer of humor that’s just for me. That look relaxes some of the tension in my muscles.
We can do this.
When I near the bottom of the gazebo stairs, Hayden steps down and offers me his hand.
It’s warm and strong, and when he feels the trembling in mine, he gives it a squeeze before leading me up the stairs to stand before Debbie.
The opening of the gazebo is wide, and with the elevation, everybody can see us.
I pass my bouquet to Mel, who thankfully bought us brand-new matching tubes of waterproof mascara for the occasion because she has tears running down her cheeks. But no streaks.
Since she’s guessed the truth of what’s happening, they’re probably tears of joy for my impending freedom. Or she just might be a wedding cryer.
Hayden still hasn’t released my hand, and together we turn to face my cousin. I wish we’d been able to get anybody but Debbie, but all I can do now is smile as she launches into the standard wedding opening.
Everything goes smoothly until she gets to the objection part of the program. “Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
I stand perfectly still, my eyes on Debbie. Behind me, I hear clothing rustling. Several throats are cleared. The whispers blend together, sounding like a white noise machine. There are even a few snickers and what sounds like an explosive laugh-turned-cough from the back of the room.
But nobody speaks.
“Last call,” Debbie says, and I can tell by the direction of her gaze she looks first at my mother, and then at my future mother-in-law. “Anybody?”
I swear, if I hear a single person mutter “Bueller?” under their breath, I’m going to chase everybody out of the town square like an irate goose and make this a closed ceremony.
“I think we can move on,” Hayden says in a low—but very firm—voice.
Debbie startles, her eyes widening as she realizes she got caught up in the potential for a scandal and forgot her role in the occasion.
But she gathers herself and smiles before leading us through the recitation of the standard wedding vows.
I feel strangely detached, as though it’s not even real, until Debbie says my name.
“Do you Carolina Marie Gamble, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”
My mouth is dry, and I have a hard time swallowing the lump in my throat. It’s not as long as we both shall live, I remind myself. It’s only until Gin signs the house over. “I do.”
Hayden’s expression doesn’t change, but his sharp intake of breath doesn’t escape me. I don’t think either of us were sure what would come out of my mouth until I actually said the words.
“Do you Hayden William Reilly, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”
Now his expression changes. As his gaze holds mine, the lines of his face soften and his icy blue eyes darken with warmth. “I do.”
There are more words. The rings. More words. It’s all a blur and I wish Hayden and I were alone on our rock by the river as we race toward one final hurdle.
The one I’ve been dreading. And also not dreading.
“By the authority vested in me by the State of New Hampshire, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She pauses, and I brace myself. Here it comes. “Hayden, you may now kiss your bride.”
His hand goes to my waist, and I clutch his upper arm as he hauls me close. The very wedding-appropriate smile his mouth has maintained for the entire ceremony flashes into a wicked grin in the second before his lips touch mine.
Our second first kiss.
Just a quick peck, I think—a formality in front of almost everybody I know to seal the deal. But somehow, despite the overwhelming number of emails we’d exchanged about the wedding, Hayden apparently didn’t get the for-show-purposes-only kiss memo.
This isn’t the polite kiss of a man who’s checking a wedding ceremony item off a list. And it’s not the tentative kiss of a teenage boy by the river.
It’s the kiss of a man who knows what he’s doing, and heat floods through me as I clutch the sleeve of his suit coat. His mouth is demanding—hungry—and I yield to him, parting my lips as his tongue sweeps over mine. His hand slides up my back.
Somehow, the sounds of clapping and more than a few wolf whistles pierce the need that’s clouded my mind, and I pull away.
The heat in his eyes sears me, and he’s as breathless as I am. We came very close to stepping over some invisible line. But our mothers are watching.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Debbie yells over the crowd, “Mr. and Mrs. Reilly! Um, Gamble-Reilly?” She puts her hand over her mouth, and then shrugs. “Ladies and gentlemen, the happy couple!”
I take the bouquet Mel is holding out in front of me, and then I try to concentrate on both smiling and not falling down the gazebo steps as we make our way past the applauding guests.
This is bad—so very bad. Terrible, even. My husband kissed me and I liked it. And I want him to do it again.
I’m in so much trouble.