I fall back when the last of my seed has been expelled. Celeste lies on her side facing me. She’s studying my profile; I can feel her gaze and almost hear her thoughts.
“It’s not because you’re pregnant or my dad suggested it,” I clarify then turn on my side to face her. “When he mentioned it, I noticed my lack of disagreement. Then, I analyzed my feelings and realized that I want to marry you. I want this. I want us.”
Celeste chews on her lip as she considers our options. I kiss her freckles while I wait.
“But our first marriages were tragic in different ways.”
“I know. We can’t predict or control death, but I can promise you, I’d never hurt you. Life has given us a second chance. We should enjoy it. Our love is like no other. We aren’t the same people we were then. My heart beats for you like it never has.”
“But Sara…” Celeste trials off trying to find the best way to pose her question. I slide my hand into hers and entwine our fingers.
“Like itneverhas, Celeste…”
She uses our joined hands to wipe away tears, and I kiss her tear-streaked fingers.
“When?”
“Now, if we could, but I’ll say this week, so we can get your parents.”
“Elope?”
“For now. Consider it an intimate wedding. Once we have everything under control, and you’re comfortable, I’ll happily marry you again on a bigger scale.”
Celeste grins at me. “I don’t think it’s necessary. Let’s meet in the middle. An elopement that doesn’t feel like a courthouse meeting and a reception to celebrate once all the bullshit is over.”
“Now that, Mrs. Scott, is how to negotiate.”
Celeste
After I agreedto marry Beau, he and Axel put the rest into plan, while the brides were told to mind our business. Heaven and I couldn’t help but laugh since the arrangements were supposed to be ‘our business.’ Surprisingly, she told me she was used to Axel displaying such bossiness. We’d negotiated retaining control over the receptions we were promised.
I’m glad Beau is doing this with his best friend. I wish I had a friend I wanted to share my milestones with, but Beau, being my all, qualifies. We moved the party to Florida and Heaven’s two best friends were flown out. We’d opted to have the wedding the next day, Wednesday, so we could have an impromptu bachelor and bachelorette night. I am looking forward to girl time since I don’t get that much, but I have a bigger priority first.
Jerrod and Shanice Fontanne are people I’ve always loved and hardly was allowed to see thanks to Wes’ bullshit. It was no surprise that once we returned to the hotel after getting our marriage license, that the sight of them instantly brought me to tears. Ernest and Trudy brought them, so we could watch for and avoid any unwanted guests.
My dad scooped me up in a big bear hug, then my mom held me while we cried. I missed them so much. Talking on the phone is not the same as seeing them.
Everyone else disappeared and allowed me my reunion, except for Beau. We have some explaining to do. We’d gotten them a penthouse because they deserve it. I’d given them my room number to meet us once they were settled. I wring my hands when Beau answers the door to let them inside. Both are civil and reserved but need to be caught up to speed in a matter of minutes. Beau had ordered some room service and offered them drinks and snacks while they settled.
“Did Ernest tell you why you were coming?” I asked to start the conversation.
“Not really. He said you were in Florida, and you asked him to get us. I recognized him from your video calls,” my dad explains. His chocolate eyes study Beau for a beat then return to mine. “But now that we’re here, I’m picking up on the possible reasons.” Sitting back he scratches his black and gray beard. “I’m just waiting to hear it.”
“We’re getting married,” I blurt to rip off the Band-Aid.
My parents are not as shocked as I expected but my dad and mom are really good at reading between the lines.
“I would have done it the traditional way like coming to meet the two of you and announcing my intentions, but we’re not in the normal circumstances.”
My parents nod tightly trying to process everything, but my mother breaks the silence first.
“When are you due?” My eyes grow because my bump isn’t that noticeable with my outfit. I’ve heard mothers have a sixth sense about these things sometimes.
“I’m almost twenty-two weeks, but that’s not the ‘unusual circumstance.’ We’re trying to figure out what to do about Wes; that’s the problem,” I answer my mom.
My dad stops pacing but then rounds on Beau. “What’s your name again?”
“Beau,” he supplies.
