“From that moment on, my reaction hasn’t changed much—although I do remember to bring a coat. Being the California girl I am, I had no idea just how much snow could fall from the sky. Living in New York has been a hard and fast education in weather.
“There was a storm, a particularly bad one last winter, and the city had to actually shut down. The snowplows couldn’t keep up with the amount of snow Mother Nature was producing, and as I sat on the couch while the lights flickered off and on, I looked out the window, worrying whether we’d have heat through the night. But then, you came and wrapped your warm arms around me, and I realized that nothing mattered as long as we were together. Snowstorms, heart transplants, or anything else the world wants to throw our way, as long as your hand is in mine,” she said, looking down at our joined palms, “I’ll never fear the unknown.”
I was in awe.
As we exchanged rings and I felt her delicate fingers slide that cool metal band into place, I wondered, Does one man deserve so much? Or am I tempting fate?
JUDE’S SOFT GREEN eyes melted into mine as he placed the simple gold wedding band onto my ring finger. I looked down at it, the tiny white diamonds twinkling under the soft glow of candlelight.
I’d imagined what it would look like on this day, standing here with Jude in front of our friends and family.
It felt solid, real, and incredibly permanent—just like Jude.
His mouth curved into a half grin as he watched my gaze return to him. What was he thinking about? As his eyes dipped to my cleavage, I found myself blushing.
Oh . . . that.
Well, I guessed I would need to thank my good friend Grace for the lingerie.
Pastor Mark began, “Now that Jude and Lailah have given themselves to one another and made promises through the exchange of rings”—Jude squeezed my hand, knowing this was it, and his eyes locked on mine as I bit my lip, trying not to cry—“I am so honored and incredibly happy to pronounce them husband and wife.”
We looked to him for permission, the excitement between us nearly causing us to hover off the ground.
Pastor Mark laughed and nodded at Jude. “You may now kiss your bride.”
Our eyes met as Jude’s cocky grin returned. My heart hammered in my chest. It was as if I’d never been kissed before, as if I’d been waiting for this moment my entire life.
Leaning forward, his fingers found the back of my head, digging into my hair, and he pulled me close. A millisecond before our lips met, he whispered, “Forever,” just loud enough for the two of us to hear.
The congregation erupted into cheers and applause as we took our first kiss as husband and wife.
It was magical.
As we pulled back, I looked up to see tears in Jude’s eyes. I rose up on my tiptoes and gently wiped them away before we turned toward our family and friends.
“Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Jude Cavanaugh!”
We raised our joined hands in triumph, laughing in joy, and we raced down the aisle to congratulations and applause.
We hadn’t been married for more than an hour, and I kind of already wanted to hurt him a little, not a lot—just a small kick to the shin or a tiny shove.
As the guests had all filed out and been whisked away to the beautiful hotel ballroom that was serving as our reception location for cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, we had stayed behind with our small bridal party and family to take photos.
As I dutifully followed directions from our patient and amazing photographer, I felt it—the subtle brush of his fingers across my bare skin, the way his body seemed to hover just a bit closer each time we readjusted our poses. He was doing it on purpose and in front of our family.
And, dang it, I was letting him.
I knew it probably all seemed innocent to anyone nearby—a brush of a hand, a tender kiss. For me, it was anything but. With the raging inferno threatening to burst free from me, desire so fierce pooled deep within that I felt like we might as well be filming a porno right there in front of my mother and father.
“Okay, I think that’s enough of the family photos. Everyone but Lailah and Jude can head over to the reception,” the photographer announced.
I nearly sighed in relief, and then I saw Jude’s mouth twitch beside me.
“Oh, shut up,” I muttered.
We got another round of quick congratulations, and then it was just the two of us and the photographer.
But she earned the reputation that had preceded her by managing to fade into the background and letting us do what came naturally—getting caught up in each other. We moved around the church, taking photos in candlelight and near the large arches of the windows. Nothing was posed or stagnant, and it only perpetuated the need to have him more.
After about fifteen minutes, the photographer had gotten everything she needed, and we were let free to join the others at our reception.
“Ready to party, Mrs. Cavanaugh?” Jude asked as he took off his tailored jacket. He placed it on my shoulders right before opening the heavy church door.