“I love you, Sunny.”
My heart flipped in my chest. I loved him, too.
I didn’t say it back, but I knew I’d get the chance again.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Patrick
“Pat, smile.”
“I am.”
“No, whatever you’re doing is not smiling.” Jules adjusted my tie and smacked me on the arm. “Loosen up.”
“I’m trying.”
She giggled, “Good heavens, had I known how terrible you are in front of a camera, I would’ve booked a cheaper photographer.”
“Unless mug shots count, I haven’t had to do this before.”
She laughed out loud. “Mug shots! I do not want you looking like a convict in these pics, okay?”
Jules was the perfect bride. Her dark hair was tied behind her head in some sort of twisty thing with tiny white flowers all in it. Wisps of her hair were blowing in the warm breeze. The silk dress she’d chosen for the day exposed her entire back, and the material swished around her hips. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Matter of fact, I couldn’t keep my hands off her either. Now that we’d said our vows, I just wanted Jules.
The wedding was perfect. We got married in front of Mama’s daisy patch. Jack gave the bride away. Fray and Gina stood up with us. Blake got ordained for the occasion. Debbie brought Sunny. Shaye, Kenzie, and Jeff were there.
I couldn’t have kept Danny away if I wanted to. He was there for every second of the festivities. In a tie no less. He coerced guests into the shop to show off the Pontiac GTO then followed Shaye around like a puppy.
And of course Valiant was in attendance. I had asked Sunny to look out for him during the ceremony. She was thrilled and Val seemed to like her.
Only other person there was the photographer, who apparently, I was frustrating to no end.
Fray sauntered over, sipping lemonade, to where we were doing bride and groom photos under the oak tree. He laughed and shook his head. “Bro, you look like the tin man.”
Jules lifted her hands in exasperation. “See? Tell him, Fray!”
Fray set his drink on the fence post and took off his suit coat. “Don’t worry, Jules. I got this.”
Comments not suitable to all audiences poured out of his mouth. Apparently, his singular mission was to make me so uncomfortable I would be forced to choose laughter in order to survive.
“Come on buddy, think of what’s going to be going down in a few hours. We all know you’re going to be joining the Mile High Club in the plane’s lavatory.”
Jules grabbed my arm and shrieked with laughter. Whatever I did—blush, smile, die—must’ve been what the photographer wanted because the camera was clicking, lightning speed. Fray kept up the banter but toned it down a bit when Sunny came down the hill. Pictures were a lot easier after that.
Sunny beamed when we called her in for a few family pictures. Her hair was half way up. I know the name of that hairstyle because that’s how her mom wore it so often. Fray was making her laugh, too. Suddenly, the monotony of photography became a pretty wild time.
My girls.
I squeezed them on either side of me. Sunny had her head against my chest on one side and on the other Jules leaned into my shoulder. My dumb Moore genes wouldn’t let me get through that moment without shedding a tear or two. Evidence of which I’m sure will be framed on our wall forever.
I loved them. So much it hurt. Guess I graduated to a new kind of chest pains. Liked these a lot better.
When the party filed back toward the house for lunch, I jerked my bride behind the oak tree.
“Patrick!” Her cheeks bloomed with a red flush. “What are you doing?”
“You know exactly what I’m doing.” I wrapped my arms around her, letting my hands slide the length of her back. “Giving my wife a taste of what’s to come.”
