“Do you want the DJ to introduce you as Mr. and Mrs. Beck? Are you hyphenating? Or…”
Pres gives me a nervous smile, then answers for both of us. “Um…why don’t we just skip a formal introduction, Mom? Keep this casual?”
Her eyes flick between us, sensing unresolved tension. It’s something we need to talk about, but not right now.
“Yeah, of course. Great idea!” We follow her through the open doors, step out onto the spacious deck, and then walk down to the large tent set up on the beach.
Not sure why we needed a formal announcement in the first place.
The moment we appear, everyone erupts in cheers. Music starts, and the crowd swiftly parts, revealing a dance floor.
“That was weird, right?” I murmur.
“That they all just moved like that? In sync?” she whispers with a smirk. “Yeah, totally.”
Since everyone is holding back, watching instead of offering congratulations, I dip my head and say, “I guess we’re supposed to dance now?”
She snorts. “Considering the way they’re staring at us, I’m gonna say yes.”
I take her hand, and we step onto the small dance floor. Grabbing her waist, I pull her close. Neither of us is a fan of being the center of attention, so I keep her focused on me. Smirking, I say, “Good thing you accidentally married a guy who can dance, then.”
She slides her arms around my neck. “Pretty sure I married you on purpose today.”
The song changes. I recognize it immediately. “My Home” by Myles Smith, but it’s been slowed down, and he’s singing acoustic. Perfect for a first dance. Perfect for us. Whenever I hear it on the radio, I always think of Pres.
“Did you pick this?” I ask her.
“Maybe,” she answers as we sway back and forth. “I may not have cared too much which chicken dish my mom chose, but I did have an opinion on some of the song choices.”
I cup her chin and kiss her, forgetting we have an audience. The crowd whoops and hollers. We pull apart, and I try to spin her around. It’s a disaster. My dancing skills are not that advanced. But we laugh, and the guests enjoy the show.
I just love seeing her smile.
When the song ends, another begins, and other couples join us on the dance floor.
About half a song in, we both look at each other. “So…” I start.
“Drinks?” she finishes.
Just as we turn, I swear I see a familiar face in the crowd—a wisp of platinum-blonde hair and a cruel smile. But then, we literally run right into Jonas and Keisha, and I forget all about it.
“You’re here!” I exclaim, pulling him into a tight hug.
“Are you kidding?” he beams, giving me a hearty slap on the back. Although the wedding attire is semi-formal, he’s in a heather gray suit, vest, and tie. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I also give Keisha a hug, who’s more appropriately dressed in a flowy pink strapless dress. “Are you sure you’re just not here because of all the celebrities?” I give her a knowing glance.
“There are celebrities here?” He pretends to be surprised, causing Pres to snort out a laugh. Keisha ignores her husband’s antics and smiles, sincerity in her tone. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I answer, my throat thick with emotion. I didn’t doubt they would show up, but, damn, it means a lot that they’re here. In a sea of strangers, it’s so good to see two familiar faces.
I guess a formal introduction is necessary. “Keisha, Jonas, meet my wife, Presley.”
They exchange hugs rather than handshakes, having met and talked on the phone several times now. We make small talk for a bit. They ask about the house and our honeymoon plans. I ask about their upcoming trip to Rome.
Then I notice Pres start to shift from side to side, wincing.
“What’s the matter?” I ask.
