She’s so distracted that she doesn’t notice Stacy practically bounding down the corridor, Franklin hot on her heels. His cheeks are a bit rosy above his neat black moustache—he must’ve started partaking of the champagne I ordered for them already. And, judging by her giddy energy, Stacy might be a bit tipsy too.
“Abby!” she squeals, “You’re here!”
“Stacy?” She blinks as the exuberant woman barrels into her. “Hey, y’all. What are you doing here?”
She’s baffled but clearly pleased to see her two friends.
A quick, jealous impulse tightens my hand around hers for a moment, but I force myself to remain calm and collected. I can share her attention for a short while. In a few hours, she’ll be mine forever. I can allow her this time with them to make the day special for her.
“Dane got a room for us,” Franklin gushes, then adds in a conspiratorial whisper, “With champagne.”
“What? Why?”
I curl two fingers beneath her chin, drawing her gaze to mine. I want her looking into my eyes when I say, “Your friends are going to help you get ready for our wedding.”
Her lips part on a soft gasp. “Now?”
“Now.”
My grin is probably sharper than it should be, but I can’t bring myself to soften it in this moment of triumph.
“But…I’m not even wearing makeup. You told me we’re going to the beach, so I only put on sunscreen.”
I cup her cheek. “You are stunning just as you are.”
Franklin lets out a long sigh, and Stacy says, “I brought makeup if you want it. Dane asked if we wanted to help you get ready, and we’re so thrilled to be part of your Big Day!”
“A private ceremony on the beach at sunset, so romantic,” Franklin says with approval. “But we get to spend the afternoon with you. I have our favorite musicals ready for a singalong while you get glammed up. Dane didn’t give us much notice, but luckily, I already have a thirteen-hour-long playlist ready for emergencies like this.”
Abigail’s eyes are still fixed on mine, wide and guileless as ever. “I get to be your wife today?” she breathes.
I stroke her purple curl. “Today and every day for the rest of our lives.” I press a quick, fierce kiss to her parted lips. “I’ll meet you on the beach, little dove.”
I force myself to walk away from her before I lose my tenuous control. The craving to throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the ceremony right now is nearly overwhelming.
I grit my teeth against the grating sound of her friends’ excited screeching behind me and remind myself that Abigail enjoys their company. They’re important to her, so from now on, they’re important to me.
Every aspect of this day will be absolutely perfect for Abigail, even if that means I have to be parted from her for a few hours.
The next time I see her, my bride will be walking toward me dressed in white, ready to pledge herself to me forever.
The private stretchof beach owned by Meadows’ family is serene and quiet—not a tourist in sight. My partner was all too happy to allow me use of their property for the weekend, even if he did seem a bit disappointed that he isn’t invited to my wedding.
But this moment is only for Abigail and me. We aren’t performing for the sake of others; they won’t take little pieces of our happiness for themselves.
By now, she’s had several hours to celebrate the day with her close friends. That will have to be enough, because I’m not capable of sharing more of her today.
The officiant waits with me, the surf lapping closer to his shoes with every passing minute as the tide comes in. I refuse to budge. Abigail will have her wedding by her beloved ocean, and I don’t care if the man gets wet. I paid him enough that he’s not complaining.
Or maybe it’s my warning glower that’s keeping his mouth shut. I’m not interested in idle small talk while I wait for my bride.
My genial mask has fallen away entirely, and I intend to be my true, ruthless, cruelly possessive self when we make our vows.
“If the storm draws much closer, we’ll have to move this inside,” the violinist dares to say, gesturing in the direction of Meadows’ grand beach house.
I look out at the dark clouds churning on the horizon and smile. Everything will be perfect for my Abigail.
“We’re getting married right here,” I announce. “Start playing.”
