They’ve come for our wedding.
The judge who stands before us has already read most of the vows, but I’ve barely heard a word. It’s hard to hear from up here where I’m floating above the earth.
But when he asks if we have the rings and Ronnie bounces and squeals, “I do! I do!” I know that it is real.
I take Jackson’s ring from the little pillow that she holds out to me, then gently slide it onto his finger, his eyes never leaving mine.
He does the same, and I swear that I can feel the shock of this moment, this new reality, settle through me as the ring encircles my finger, just as Jackson has encircled my life.
“You may kiss the bride,” the judge says, and Jackson wastes no time. He pulls me to him, leans me back, and kisses me thoroughly, all to the applause and catcalls of our small audience.
“Well, hello, wife,” Jackson says, when he rights me.
“Hello, husband,” I reply, then wrap my arms around him and sigh.
“We’ll leave you two alone soon,” Nikki promises as she and Damien approach. “But we have a little reception set up in the main restaurant.”
I glance at Jackson, who just shakes his head. We’d not intended a reception. Just a quick wedding squeezed in before my work life got crazy with the opening.
And, of course, a long weekend for a honeymoon.
The resort was designed so that a dozen bungalows on the north side of the island are actually for sale. And Nikki and Damien—now otherwise known as my sister- and brother-in-law—gave us one for a wedding gift.
“Just a little something for the happy couple,” Damien had said to Jackson, obviously trying to hold back a smile. “I figured if you designed it, then it must be to your taste.”
Jackson had laughed. And though I’d feared he’d turn down the gift as too extravagant, he’d only said, “Hell, yeah.”
Now, he bends down so that Ronnie—now officially Veronica Amelia Steele—can ride piggyback as he and I hold hands on our walk to the reception.
He’s barefoot in deference to the sand, but he’d told me that he wasn’t going to get married if he wasn’t wearing a suit. It’s black and perfectly tailored, the gloss of the fine material gleaming in the sun. His only nod to the casual nature of our wedding is the fact that he’s not wearing a tie. Instead, his collar is open, and when he turns to grin at me, wide and happy, I see the indentation at the base of his neck.
I’m struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss him there. To lick him and taste him. Because he is truly mine now. Every delicious inch of him.
I manage to control myself; after all, we now have all the time in the world.
Unlike my husband, I’d taken the beachside nature of our wedding into consideration. I’m wearing a white silk tank top embroidered with delicate silver threads and a flowing white skirt. It’s not sheer, but gives the illusion that it is, and the layers of gauzy material flicker in the breeze as we walk.
One of the resort’s bands is playing when we arrive at the restaurant, and there is a beautiful three-tiered wedding cake standing in the middle of the dance floor. Ronnie takes off running for it, and when she turns back, her eyes are big. “Mommy! Daddy! Cake!” She claps her hands, delighted, and everyone around begins to laugh. I, however, am about to cry.
Because today, finally, I really am Mommy. And next month it will be even more official, because that’s when my adoption of Ronnie will be finalized.
I know that I’m not a perfect mother, and there are times when I still look at Ronnie and wonder what the hell I’m doing, but at the same time, I know that I’m doing my best. And I know that Jackson has my back.
More than that, I’m not scared anymore because I know that Ronnie is growing up healthy and happy and loved, and that’s what matters most.
I take Jackson’s hand and squeeze. He looks down at me, then gently kisses my forehead. “I know,” he said softly. “Me, too.”
We dance, Jackson and me, then Jackson and Ronnie, then me and Ethan who has been grinning like a fool through the whole wedding. He passes me off to Cass, who whispers that I’ve given her ideas as she glances over at Siobhan who is sitting at one of the tables having what appears to be a very serious conversation with Ronnie. I even dance with Damien once, while Jackson spins Nikki on the floor.
Betty and Stella are here, too, along with Megan, who is looking happy and healthy in a flowing yellow sundress. Jackson takes both her and Ronnie onto the floor when the band starts playing “The Twist.” It doesn’t last long; the little girl keeps dissolving into giggles before shouting “Daddy! Meggie! I twisting!”
