Only … I don’t think it’s just because we’re getting married. She’s settled so easily every time I remind her that this is a business deal that we have to put a little flair on. Her moments of fear come when I get too close.
Unease roils around in my stomach at that. Given her profession, she’s probably seen so much in the last several years as an advocate for abused women. It’s no wonder she’s wary of every touch and every look when she hardly knows me. I wish I could figure out how to make her see that I’ll always be gentle and understanding with her.
She reaches me then. She hands off her bouquet to a woman I don’t know and then slips her hands into mine, squeezing and smiling up at me.
“You good?” I bend over her, leaning close like I’m whispering something sweet. That’s what the cameras will see.
“I’m good.” She squeezes my hands again. Though her eyes are wary, her expression is relaxed.
On instinct, I kiss her forehead, then cringe as I pull away. Ididn’t ask or warn her, something that usually makes her nervous. “Sorry,” I whisper.
She smiles up at me. “It’s fine,” she mouths. We’ve discussed that affection when we have an audience needs to be natural and not forced. Even though our only audience is the officiant, the photographer, the videographer, and the woman who took the bouquet (I think she’s Libby’s assistant), the photos of this wedding will be for millions. We have to look like we’re in love.
But most important to me is Libby knowing I hear her when she sets a boundary.Ihave to resist the temptation to hold her every time I want to. But I will resist, for her.
Libby turns to the officiant and nods that we’re ready to begin. We keep holding hands as the man welcomes us. Guilt brings heat to my cheeks for the first time as he gives a brief opening about the special bond between a husband and a wife.
I remind myself this is part of the show, clips that will be shown on TV. It’s like a movie we’re playing parts in. Like I keep saying—a unique business deal we’ve made.
He quickly moves to the vows as sunlight sparkles off the water behind us. Libby asked that he keep it simple, traditional, and short. “Jordan, do you take Libby to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death parts you?”
To have and to hold.My heart thumps, and something warms in my chest.
I stare down at Libby, hoping she doesn’t see any of this in my expression. “I do.” My voice is low, husky.
She swallows, not breaking my gaze as the officiant repeats the vow for Libby.
“I do,” she says, voice strong. Of course. She’s spent most of her life playing for the cameras.
“By the authority vested in me by the State of Hawaii, I pronounce you, Jordan Atkinson and Libby Bennet, husband and wife, legally and lawfully wedded.” He grins at both of us,his expression a little bit mischievous as he finishes, “You may kiss the bride.”
I look down at Libby. We’re supposed to be so in love we ran off to get married. This can’t be a little peck. It has to be a real kiss. It was a mess earlier, but bad dress rehearsals mean a good show, right?
I lean down over her. I’m prepared to show her the chemistry I know is here. “Ready?” I murmur.
“Mmm-hmm.” She’s already standing on her tiptoes, waiting.
“Don’t think,” I whisper gently. “Close your eyes and let me take the lead.”
“Okay,” she whispers back.
I wrap an arm around her waist to hold her to me.To have and to hold.
I slide my other hand gently up her cheek, and she tilts her head into it. Then she stills, like I asked her, and waits for me. I lower my lips to hers, the lightest press of our lips. There’s no bumping noses this time, no confusion. I move slowly, giving her the opportunity to break contact at any time.
Everything quiets around me as I simply hold her close and breathe her in. The ocean waves create a soft backdrop.
Then she responds, as though she can’t help it. Not the awkward grasping at control like before—an automatic reaction. She slides her hands up my chest and wrapping them around my neck. She kisses me this time, deeper than before.
I’ve lost track of what’s real and what’s for the camera. I have no idea where the line is. I could hold Libby forever like this. If we had gone on a real date after meeting at the fundraiser, I would have ended the night with a kiss like this. A kiss that said there were possibilities ahead of us.
My phone buzzes again in my pocket.
“Jordan?” Libby whispers, pulling back to eye me, confused.
“Turning off my location seems to have created some questions for my sister,” I mutter.
“You turned off your location?” Libby’s eyebrows jump with incredulity. The tender moment between us fizzles just like that, and unfortunately, there’s relief in Libby’s expression as we break apart.
