“Thanks, man. That means the world to me.”
“Time for food!” It’s Truck and he has Allison in his arms like she’s the bride and they’re heading to their own reception.
She swats him. “Put me down, you animal.”
I find my bride and kiss her neck while she’s talking to Rosalie.
“Wife, I need to feed you.”
They both giggle as I sweep Liberty off her feet.
The celebration flows into the adjoining dining room where tables are set with more candles, and flowers. Dinner is served family-style. We feast on turkey and roasted duck, winter vegetables, fresh rolls, and red velvet cake.
It’s simple. Exactly the way we wanted it. Liberty insisted she didn’t want to cut cake for fear of what I might do.
Little does she know I’ve got two giant slices being delivered to our room for later. With extra icing.
The wait staff keeps the food coming until everyone’s glassy-eyed and smiling. Marshall makes a toast that's equal parts sentimental and inappropriate, mentioning the condoms he leftin the cave which we apparently used since the box had been torn open like an animal had gotten ahold of it.
“That would be me,” I admit, grinning.
I got a little rough with the box, the morning I made breakfast. So, I was a little amped up…
Liberty turns scarlet. I flip the boss off while everyone laughs.
Scout tells embarrassing stories from SEAL training that make Liberty giggle until she can barely breathe.
Truck caters to Allison, filling her water glass every time she takes a sip. Marianna and Evan laugh every time he does.
Beast demonstrates his knife-throwing skills with dinner rolls as the targets until Camille confiscates his weapon. “Jeeze, I can’t take you anywhere.”
He smiles broadly. “To bed. You can take me to bed.”
She smacks her hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. He forgot his manners at home.”
As the evening deepens and the snow continues to fall, I find myself at the window with my bride tucked against my side, watching the wintery world beyond the glass.
“What are you thinking?” she asks, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“This is a far stretch from spending Christmas alone in my cabin.”
“No more peace and quiet.”
“This is way better,” I say, crashing our mouths together for a kiss I’ve been dying for.
When I wrap a tight arm around her waist, someone yells a crude remark about getting a room.
“Should we make our escape?” I murmur next to her ear, “Our room is waiting.”
The honeymoon suite is a massive room on the top floor with exposed beams, a fireplace, and a four-poster bed that looks like it was made for thoroughly enjoying my new wife.
Liberty looks up at me, her eyes reflecting firelight and joy so pure it makes my the center of my vision wavy. “Take me to bed, husband.”
“Yes, ma'am, Mrs. McCallister.”
I scoop her up, ignoring everyone and carry my bride toward the stairs.
Heat and the smell of cedar from the fireplace welcomes us.
