Zach wiggles his brows at me.
I inhale deeply, and the shaky sound drowns beneath the pounding in my ears. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so damn long, I still can’t believe it’s actually happening.
Finally, I turn around.
The breath is knocked out of me so suddenly I step backward. My throat goes dry—so dry, I force down a swallow. Eva’s dark curls are down and fall past her waist. Her dress is in two pieces: a long skirt, and a silky white crop top that hangs off her shoulders, revealing a glinting navel piercing. A black and white lily tattoo decorates her bare shoulder, covering her scar in a symbol of strength between mother and daughter.
With her head held high, bare feet padding in the sand, and a single yellow lily in her hands for the only pop of color against her white dress and olive skin, fuck ... she’s a goddess. My heart twists and thumps at the sight of her, and I’m sure it’s not natural for one person to love another this fucking much.
Eva passes the lily to Maria, then her gaze lifts to meet mine. A smile plays on those perfect lips I’ve memorized.She knows exactly what she’s doing to me. I smile back, my fingers twitching with the urge to hold hers, and her brown eyes sparkle as she reaches me. Unable to wait any longer, I take her hands. Release a shaky exhale. A slight tremble makes my grip unsteady, but she gives a small squeeze that grounds me.
“Please, take each other by the right hand.” We look at Isaac, whose focus slides to our already clasped fingers. “Oh,” he mutters, brows furrowing as he lowers his pointer finger down the book’s page. Finding the next part, he clears his throat and beams at us. “These are the hands of your best friend that are holding yours as you promise to love each other all the days of your lives.”
A sniff sounds behind Eva, and I drag my gaze to her maid of honor. Maria’s scowl is permanent, but her eyes are too watery to bother concealing the emotion. She makes a valiant effort though.
Isaac continues through the ceremony, and my grip on Eva’s tightens along with the pressure in my chest. Five years ago, in a hotel room that towered sixty stories above Detroit, I made a promise to love this woman, and to love her better every day. Today, I get to make that promise official. I get to be the only man to cherish her like a husband should, and I get to spend the rest of my life doing it. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
Eva’s attention catches on something behind me, and I frown as whatever she spotted makes a tear slip down her cheek.
I stroke her thumb with mine, and she brings her gaze back to me. “What is it?”
She smiles, shakes her head. “I saw someone, that’s all.” She squeezes my hands once more. “Someone I really, really hoped to see.”
Peace of mind washes over me. Because of my job, she can’t say much more, but I know exactly who she’s talking about. Alejandro made it.
My palms sweat as we exchange our vows. Eva’s undoubting, “I do,” is the most perfect sound I’ve ever heard, caught at the perfect moment with a camera’sclick, and, finally, I slip the ring onto her finger. When I meet her gaze, her eyes are glossy. I can’t wait to pull that sweet mouth to mine and soothe her trembling lips.
It feels like an eternity before Isaac says the words I’ve been itching to hear. “I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford. You may now kiss the bride.”
I step forward. My chest hammers. Heat pulses through me. Eva smiles and matches my step, closing the gap. She arches a brow, waiting, teasing, daring me to kiss her, and I fall in love a little harder. This will be the first time I ever kiss this woman as my wife. Fuck if I’m gonna rush it. I run my hand behind her neck, tilt her head up to meet mine. Her lips part, breath comes out faster, and I breathe in her exhales. I slip my arm around her waist. She gasps as I tug her against me, and, finally—
“We’re here! Don’t worry, darling, Mommy’s here!”
Click.
My eyes shut, forehead drops to Eva’s, and I groan. Eva shakes slightly, drawing my gaze to hers, and it takes a second to realize she’s laughing.
“Mommy?” she whispers. “I swear, every year it gets worse.”
My lips twitch, but I’m not so amused. My mom’s timing is impeccable.
“Darling! Did you hear me? I don’t know how the date was wrong on the invitation we received, but thank God Whitney cleared that right up.” My mom huffs, struggling to make it through the sand in heels without tripping over the hem of her excessive dress. One step behind her, my dad grumbles and smacks away her hair that’s blowing in his face. “Even if itwaslast minute. And she calls herself awedding planner...”
“Whitney did this?” I spot the redheaded troublemaker at the same time she backs slowly behind Zach to use his body as a shield. My jaw tenses. My parents have made huge steps in trying to be active in our lives, and somehow, they’ve becometooinvolved. I intentionally didn’t invite them to ensure Eva could relax on her wedding day. “If you think he can save you from this—”
“Baby.” Eva’s fingers touch my chin, and she guides my gaze back to hers. My eyes narrow on the laugh she’s not quite managing to suppress. This is only one of the countless moments I’ve wished I could stay irritated and see her smile at the same time. “It’s not her fault,” she says. “I told her to let them come.”
My brows slant. “You, what?”
“I know we wanted to elope, and I’m guessing you didn’t invite them because of me ... but your parents love you. In their own way, they love you so much. I didn’t want you to regret it if they missed out on today.” She nods in their direction. “I mean, just look at them.”
Right then, my mom trips, falling face-first onto the sand.
Click.
She shrieks, laying the blame at my father’s feet, and I roll my eyes toward Eva. She snorts but then smacks my chest until I return my attention to Mom. I watch my dad complain despite helping her up. I’ve come to learn that’s something my dad rarely does—complain. If he’s disgruntled, he tends to keep to himself. When I told him about my plans to finally meet my biological dad after the wedding, it took him weeks to come to terms with the idea. But eventually, he did. Eventually, he always does. My dad proceeds to slide his fingers through my mom’s hair, trying to get all the sand out. When she’s satisfied, she takes his hand, beams at me, and they resume their walk toward us.
“We’re okay!” she announces. “The sand is soft as a pillow, and now I smell like the beach. So niche.”
