Page 143 of The Image of You

“You’re a good man.”

I shook my head. “Part of me is hoping shit happens and happens fast, and Sarah is screwed for a while. It would serve her right.”

“But you’d help her if Ally asked.”

“Yes.”

“Like I said, good man.”

I narrowed my eyes and glared. “Don’t let that shit get out. I have a reputation as a hard-ass.”

He laughed, and I had to join him.

Hard-ass for everyone—but my girl.

We both knew it.

* * *

As soon as we had the license, I married my Ally on Sean’s boat at the marina. It was really where it all started for us—me taking pictures of his boat. Without that request, I would never have met Ally.

The sun was setting low in the sky, and the colors of the sunset shimmered on her hair, highlighting the red. She wore a pretty cream-colored dress that floated around her feet, and I donned her favorite suit and tie. When I slipped her ring back on to her finger, the glimmer of happy tears I saw were mirrored in mine. I liked the feel of the heavy band she placed on my finger. Theo’s ring now rested on my right hand, and I didn’t plan on removing it. The meaning of the Celtic symbols resonated with me, and I felt as if I had a part of Elena close.

Our gathering was small. Emma stood for Ally, while Sean was my best man. The people we cared about witnessed us become husband and wife. Sitting on the table beside us in the place of honor was a photograph of the woman we loved and missed—Elena. Amid flowers and candles, the air filled with soft music, we celebrated our love and our marriage.

The first time.

I married her again on the beach in Fiji, just us and the stars as we recited our vows to each other. We had been there six weeks, the time away helping us heal. Our days were spent in warm sunshine, our nights in each other’s arms. We explored the island, visiting my favorite places, discovering new ones, always hand in hand. Ally rested by the shaded area of our back garden, often sleeping in my arms after we made love in the hammock or the heated water of the pool. We were rarely apart, and we were content to be that way.

I smiled all the time, and Ally was relaxed and happy, seldom a frown crossing her face, unless I hid her clothes again and called another naked day.

Those were my favorite days.

From Fiji, I took her to England. We spent another six weeks driving along narrow roads and exploring ancient ruins and castles.

There, we met a woman vicar, who, after hearing our story and Ally’s desire to be married in a county chapel, did exactly that for us. Not, she explained, in any official capacity, but as with the beach in Fiji, for our own memories. Ally said she felt as if we’d been blessed that day. I knew I’d been blessed since the day she came into my life.

I whispered our vows to her while we stood looking over the craggy, foggy moors of Scotland, feeling as though we were the only two people on earth. Then one night, stumbling back to the hotel in the late hours, after an evening at the local pub in Ireland, our sloppy kisses and slurred words still meaningful. And once more in the early morning hours on a beach in Greece as the water lapped at our feet and the sun danced on the lazy waves. Her happiness reflected the warmth of the air around us.

Every chance I got, I recommitted myself to her.

On her right hand now resided a sapphire ring, the blue so deep and vivid it was a replica of her stunning eyes. I saw it in a jewelry store window in London, the remarkable blue catching my eye. The small diamonds around it shone like bright stars. I was like a kid on Christmas morning waiting for her to notice it on the napkin where I’d placed it, beside her breakfast plate.

Room service had to be reordered. She lunged my way, and the tray went the other. We made love among the crumpet crumbs and sheets damp with tea and sticky with marmalade. It was perfect.

Our extended honeymoon was the ideal start to our life together.

My bag held many SD cards filled with pictures. Thousands of images I had taken of the scenery around us, the memories we had made, the adventures we’d experienced. Many shots of the two of us showed us wrapped around each other, laughing and in love. There were a few that were quiet and reflective—deep in thought. Some Ally had snapped of me while I was unaware.

And, of course, her. I had thousands of images of her.

Smiling, joyful, sweet as she loved me.

Annoyed, exasperated, resigned as she argued with me.

Sleeping and content with a small smile curving her lips.

Excited and wide-eyed as she discovered a new adventure with me.