“You’re such a jerk,” he said, grinning. “You and your siblings are ingrates. All of you.”
“We are what you made us.”
“Then I’ll die a happy man. I couldn’t be prouder of my kids – of you. You’re the exact man I always knew you could be, and I just couldn’t love you more.”
We hugged it out, only breaking apart when the motorhome we were using as a dressing room began to shake. Mitch opened the door, halting when he understood he’d just interrupted something.
“You want me to come back?” he asked, already turning to leave.
“Hey.” I opened my arm and motioned him in. “Get over here.”
Mitch strode over and wrapped his arms around the both of us.
“So, I don’t mean to rush you, but your bride is ready. And, oh, James is trying to ride one of the tortoises.”
“I’m ready,” I said, patting his shoulder. “I was just waiting on my best man to arrive.”
Mitch’s smile couldn’t get any wider or more blinding. “I’m here, little brother. Let me lead the way.”
* * *
My bare feet burrowed into the sand as I watched Sam pace toward me holding a small bouquet of flowers in one hand and her arm hooked though my father’s on the other. Her white dress flowed out around her in gentle waves. She resembled a water fairy with flowers braided into her hair. I blinked away the tears as she made her way toward me, the picture of beauty and health.
I scanned the small gathering of people – everyone we loved. There were no sides separating the bride and groom’s family, just an intimate blending of the two. A small, laid-back wedding was all we required, and what better place to celebrate our union than on our beach where it all started?
My father stopped, lifted Sam’s hand, and kissed it before turning her over to me. Maybe I expected her to be a swirl of emotion, but there were no tears in her eyes. No fear. Sam knew exactly what she wanted: me, every day for the rest of her life.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the area behind the altar. There, in roughly the same spot in the sand I’d once asked her to by my girlfriend, was a heart with the words,Will you be my wife?
She placed her hand on my chest. Only the slight tremble of her bottom lip spoke to her sentiment. “Thank you for never giving up on us, Keith.”
I leaned in, brushing a kiss upon her sun-lit cheek.
“It’s just what we do.”
Epilogue: Keith
“Scoot all the way down, Bud.” I bumped Wyatt along with my ass to make way for his mother and little brother.
“I don’t want to sit too close to the edge,” Wyatt said, his innocent eyes peering up at me. “What if a pirate gets me?”
“Impossible, bud. And you know why? Professional courtesy.”
“He’s four, Keith.” Sam elbowed me, casting me a sly smile as she adjusted our baby on her other hip in order to comfort her oldest son. “What Daddy means to say is they are toys, and toys are fun – nothing to fear.”
“Actually, that’s not at all whatDaddymeant to say, but thank you for putting words in my mouth,Mommy.”
Finn leaned in from behind. “At least you can get a word in edgewise. That was a luxury I lost after daughter number three exited the birth canal.”
“And whose fault is that, Finn?” I asked, glancing back at his all-female crew. With her curly brown hair and agreeable personality, Indiana was a copy of her father, while identical twins Kimi and Paige were blonde and straight-laced like their mother. “You’re physically incapable of producing a male heir.”
“If your sister would have given me one more shot, I’m confident I would have proven all you dickhead haters wrong. But nooo. I have one little mishap with a condom… no offense, honey.” He squeezed Indiana to him. “And then a few years after that, I make the grave error of forgetting to mention the prevalence of twins in my family. Suddenly, I’m the one with the vasectomy? How’s that fair?”
Offering no sympathy, Emma countered his complaint. “Look, if I could trust your sperm, there’d be no need for such drastic measures. But you Perrys insist on populating the world one broken condom at a time.”
The adult talk going straight over his head, Wyatt pulled on my sleeve, eager for my undivided attention, and I gave it to him, no questions asked. My little sandy-haired, bronzed-skin cutie was already a beach bum, spending hours playing in the sand and dipping his toes in the Pacific. On the adorable scale from one to ten, I could objectively report that he scored a twenty.
His little brother Thomas enjoyed the same high ranking, even though he wasn’t nearly as interactive as his brother. At thirteen months old, Tommy was a one-syllable kind of guy, who babbled his way through any conversation. He was also a competitive eater and would shove into his mouth whatever was handy: dog toys, onions, sand. Nothing was safe. In one glaring lapse of supervision, I even discovered our little food connoisseur chowing down on a paperback book. By the time I figured out what he was doing, Thomas was a third of the way through the novel. Let’s just say the story didn’t read as well coming out the back end.
