Eventually, eventually, we finally did sneak away.
But not before Bertie handed us two duffle bags. “Myra said you’d want these,” she said.
I opened my mouth to thank her, but she waved me away. “Go.”
“Bert, my love,” I heard a deep voice call. And Bertie, who I was pretty sure had been drinking, blushed and spun his way.
Tark was half troll and was short, wide, and strong. There was a gleam in his eye as he stood, his hand outstretched. “We dance!” he declared.
“We fly!” she responded, as she hurried to his side.
Ryder had unzipped one of the duffels. “How do you feel about getting into your favorite old jeans?”
“Are you kidding?”
He unzipped the other duffle and smiled. “It’s almost sunset, isn’t it?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’m pretty sure it is. Let’s change. We have one more thing we need to do.”
“I’m not doing it in high heels,” I warned him.
“Nope,” he said. “Bare feet all the way.”
He took me by the hand to Bertie’s office, where we took off our wedding finery and got into much more comfortable clothes.
And if our touches lingered, it wasn’t for nearly enough time.
“Sunset,” Ryder grumbled. “I am not going to blow this and have your sister mad at me for the rest of our lives.”
“So romantic,” I cooed.
He planted a hard kiss on my mouth, then pulled out of my reach. “Move it, Mrs. Bailey Reed. We have places to be.”
I whined about it, but followed the man. Because how could I not?
“Good?”Ryder, sitting on the blanket beside me, asked.
“So good.” I wriggled my toes in the sand at the edge of the blanket Myra had packed for us, enjoying the soft warmth of sun-heated sand becoming a soft coolness around my toes.
I was wearing jeans that had holes in them and a couple paint stains, and Dad’s old Grateful Dead T-shirt that was faded, too big, and perfect.
Ryder had on jeans just as old and holey as mine, and a faded shirt that had Leonardo da Vinci’sDesign for a Parabolic Compassmade to look like Pink Floyd’sDark Side of The Moonprism in the middle of it.
He had a beer in one hand and the wind in his hair.
He’d never been more beautiful to me.
“Think we’ll be lucky and see the green flash when the sun sets behind the ocean?” he asked.
I must have taken too long to answer, because he looked over at me. “Hey, wife,” he said with a smile.
“Hey, husband,” I replied, the word new to me, filled with nuance I’d never understood before.
“You’re looking at me,” he said.
“Yeah.”
