Chapter 12 Waiting at the Altar
Waiting at the Altar
Seb
I’m adjusting my tie, thinking who the fuck insists on ties for a beach wedding, when my phone buzzes.
Hunter: Proof of life?
Me: Alive and well
Hunter: And Tash?
Me: Still deliriously happy
Hunter: Thank fuck
Hunter: Olivia was about to send in the cavalry
Me: We’re good. Better than good.
Hunter: You told her you love her yet?
Me: We’ve exchanged the L word
Hunter: WHAT
Hunter: Olivia is screaming
Hunter: She says Tasha would NEVER say it if she doesn’t mean it
Me: She did last night. Multiple times.
Hunter: You’re a smug bastard
Me: I’m a bastard in love
Hunter: See you at the wedding?
Me: Wouldn’t miss it
I pocket my phone and check my reflection. New shirt, new tie, same ruined shoes. The Christian Louboutins are trash, but I don’t care.
They got me to Tasha.
That makes them priceless.
I have fifteen minutes to meet up with Connor and the other groomsmen, take our place at the arch on the beach and wait for our women.
“Seb!”
I turn to find Pete and Caleb approaching, both in tuxes, both grinning like idiots.
“There he is,” Pete says. “The man of the hour.”
“That would be Connor.”
“Nah, mate.” Caleb claps me on the shoulder. “Word is you and Tasha finally pulled your heads out of your asses.”
I don’t bother denying it. “Word travels fast.”
“Hunter can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Pete says. “So, is it serious?”
“Yes.”
“How serious?”
“I’m going to marry her serious.” It won’t come as a surprise to Tasha.
Not after we talked about traveling all over the world together.
We talked about the future, and starting a family.
When I told her I want my family to share the same name, her only demand was for my proposal to be so romantic, she can’t refuse.
So, yeah. The rest of my friends better know that she’s off the market, and so am I.
They both stop. Stare at me.
“Fuck,” Pete breathes. “You really mean it.”
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”
Caleb whistles. “About bloody time. We’ve been waiting for you to make a move for years.”
“Had to wait for her to be ready.”
“And is she?” Pete asks. “Ready, I mean?”
I think about last night. About her accepting my love. About her saying I love you. About her staying. About the way she looked at me this morning like I was her whole world.
“Yeah,” I say. “She’s ready. And so am I.”
The ceremony starts at four.
I’m standing at the front with Connor, watching guests file in.
The girl posse arrives together—Olivia, Jess, Lyssa, and Elena.
I respect that they accepted Finley to the group as Connor’s partner, but remain firmly on Team Tasha.
They are her ride-or-die, and I’ll need to win them over.
They spot me and grin. Lyssa gives me a thumbs up.
Olivia blows a kiss. I fight the urge to laugh.
Maybe, they’ve been shipping Natastian longer than I have.
Then the music changes, and the bridesmaids start their walk.
First one. Second one. Third one.
And then Tasha.
She’s in a pale pink dress that fits her perfectly, her hair swept up, her eyes bright. She’s holding a bouquet of white flowers, and she’s replaced her fake smile with a real one.
When her eyes find mine, the smile gets wider.
This is the woman I’m going to marry. She just doesn’t know when, how or in which country I’m going to pop the question. But first, we need to get her ex and her cousin married off so we can live happily ever after.