“Boyfriend,” I completed for him. “Yes.”
“Um, welcome to the family, I think is the right thing to say,” he said awkwardly with a smile, shaking my hand.
“About time,” her mother said. “Between you and me, she’s lucky—”
“Thank you both. I’m the lucky one,” I hurried to say before her mother would add something that would make me dislike her even more. I was glad Ruby was on the other side of the garden, helping Rio with something in the back of her dress.
“Survived the mom?” a voice behind me said as I stepped away from the Lockes.
Turning, I found Daphne, tugging the strap of her bridesmaid dress back onto her shoulder with an annoyed look.
“Yeah.”
“Might be your mother-in-law if you play it right,” she said, bringing her gaze from the strap to me. She broke into a smile. “Ruby’s worth it, though. And she looks the happiest I’ve ever seen her, so keep it up.”
“I intend to.”
“Or I’ll have to pull rank.”
I laughed.
“She’s serious,” Evangeline joined us. She’d been standing nearby with her back to us, talking to an older couple, and had picked up the tail of our conversation.
Both of them smiled warmly at me. “We’re not scaring you off, are we?” Evangeline asked, resting a hand briefly on my forearm. “It’s not a test. You’re the perfect man for Ruby.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “We’ve been hoping you two would get together for a long time.”
“It was worth the wait,” I said, my eyes drifting to Ruby. She’d just turned from Rio, and across the crowd, our gazes locked. She smiled at me—bright, sure, a smile that made me feel like we were the only ones there.
By the time the music shifted and the murmur of voices softened, the crowd had settled into their seats. Owen stood waiting with his best man—Rio’s brother—under the white wooden pavilion. The bridesmaids, Rio’s closest friends, marched in one by one, bouquets trembling in their hands,until the radiant bride appeared at the end of the aisle. As the bridesmaids shifted aside and I stood at the edge of the seated crowd, Ruby was beside me for part of the ceremony, her hand linked in mine.
When the “You may kiss the bride” rang out, the girl gang in matching dresses dissolved into happy tears and smudged mascara. I passed tissues. I was useful. And I was exactly where I wanted to be.
The ceremony melted into music and applause, and soon the canopied lawn turned into a dance floor strung with golden lights. Ruby tugged me into the crowd, her laughter brushing my ear as we fell into step, her body close against mine, her hand warm in my palm. For a few songs, nothing else existed but the sway of her body against mine, her head tucked beneath my chin in the slower songs.
Later, we headed for the buffet. Ruby pressed a plate into my hand, stacked high with something green and unidentifiable. “Here,” she said, smirking.
“I get that Rio works in a health shop, but this is not dinner. This is what dinner eats.” Extending the plate to the next server, I gladly accepted a slice of steak on top of it, Ruby’s laughter ringing warm in the cool air.
The hours blurred in flashes—Ruby swept into her friend’s circle for a raucous dance mashup, Rio’s nieces and other children darted between chairs, and the older guests slipped off one by one. But every time I looked up, Ruby’s gaze and smile were already on me.
I didn’t need a wedding to know I wanted one with Ruby, and I intended for it to be soon. Ten years behind us, a lifetime ahead. She’d said we should’ve done this sooner. And she was right.
51
Ruby
Evangeline was the last one I said goodbye to. She lingered to ensure the staff knew which vases were due back the next day. As she hugged me, she whispered, “I’m so happy for you, Rubs.” My throat tightened, because damn, she deserved someone to look at her the way Sebastian looked at me—like I’d hung the moon and somehow forgot to mention it.
After the garden emptied, the extra lights and music turned off, and the inn was quiet again, Sebastian and I wandered down toward the beach. He wrapped his jacket around me, his fingers lacing through mine.
We kicked off our shoes, I gathered the hem of my dress, and we went down the little rocky dune to the cold sand. Still holding my hand, he reached the bottom first and caught me as I jumped the last yard.
With my stomach pressed to his chest, arms looped around his neck, I kissed him.
“Good wine,” he murmured when we broke apart, clearly meaning the taste of my lips. “Fruity, oaky, with a tinge of honeysuckle.”
I laughed.
He set me back down and we strolled to the water’s edge. The December night was balmy—another sign of a dry winter—but I was too deliriously in love and happy to care.
