chapter Twenty-Six
The rest of the day sped by happily with no further unwelcome interruptions, to Dex’s relief. They spent some time under the palms having photographs taken—alone, with Cam, with Honey’s sisters and Koru, with their friends and their partners, some with everyone, and a few shots to laugh at later, with Honey showing off her stockings and garter, him lifting her up in his arms, and one with Dex, Koru, Chase and Jude fooling about.
At one point, watching Honey have a photograph with her dad, Dex wondered whether he should have invited his own father and brothers. Honey had pressed him gently but he’d swept her suggestion aside, not wanting any of his past to intrude on his precious present and future. Watching Cam kiss her cheek and her cuddle up to him, Dex thought maybe he’d been a bit harsh. He’d kept in touch with his father and rang him once a month or so, and thought that Graham Concannon might have liked to see his youngest son get hitched. But Dex had been embarrassed about his family, who were rough and ready and would have looked out of place and uncomfortable in suits, and he hadn’t wanted them to regale Honey and her family with stories of his miscreant youth. He’d rung his mother, who had wished him well, but there had been no question of her coming halfway around the world to see him.
If Charlie had been alive, he would have wanted him there. But Charlie was gone, and life moved on.
Anyway, the wedding was just one day. He had the rest of his life to sort things out. Maybe later, he thought, when babies came along, he might feel secure enough to reintroduce bits and pieces of his old life into his new one. But for now, he was content to have his present and the future he’d promised her.
Finally, the photos complete, they moved indoors for canapés and to greet the guests who were arriving for the reception. The room looked stunning, just like the photos the wedding organiser had shown them. In the end, Gillian had done a wonderful job. There were round tables covered in white cloths, white lilies decorating the tables and green ferns providing a colourful contrast, curtains of golden fairy lights casting the room in a warm pretty glow, and elegant waiters in black tuxes ready to serve the amazing food after orders were taken.
Guests could choose between manuka smoked salmon, marinated and slow cooked pork belly or a vegetarian option of kumara gnocchi in a rich cheese sauce, and there were a variety of delicious desserts to follow. Everyone gave speeches and drank champagne and ate too much, and afterward a local band played popular songs that had everyone on their feet, including Cam, who always protested he didn’t dance.
Throughout the evening, Dex had trouble tearing his gaze away from his new wife. Honey shone brighter than a supernova in the room. Although he knew her well enough to sense the underlying sadness because her mother couldn’t be there to share it with her, still she seemed to be having the time of her life, dancing with her sisters and friends, then coming to fetch him from the bar for a slow dance.
It was growing late, after midnight, and Dex had drunk enough to feel fuzzy at the edges without being smashed. He let Honey lead him to the centre of the floor, and he put his arms around her and drew her close. The band had been replaced by a DJ who now played an incredibly old and corny love song, but Dex didn’t care. Any excuse to get close to her.
She put her arms around his neck. Her cheeks were flushed from the warm room and the champagne and, as she looked up at him, her lowered eyelids illustrated the blend of alcohol and tiredness that made her press herself up against him.
He tried not to groan at the feel of her soft body and instead rested his hands on her back. She reached up to kiss his lips and missed the target a little, hitting the corner of his mouth.
“Are you drunk?” he asked, amused.
“No. No!” She relented. “Okay, a tiny bit. It is my wedding day.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“There’s so much champagne. It seemed a crime not to drink it.”
“Absolutely.”
“Do you love me, Dex?”
“I do, sweetheart. Can’t you tell?” He pressed his hips against hers as he nuzzled her neck so she could feel the state of semi-arousal he’d been in most of the evening as he watched her dance.
She pressed back. “Mm. I think we should go to bed soon.”
Adrenalin shot through him, making his heart pound, and he raised his head to look at her.
“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” she murmured.
“Me too.” His mouth had gone dry.
“I think they’re bored with us now anyway,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. Nobody was paying any attention to them. Koru had found himself a blonde, surprise surprise, some friend of one of the sisters, and was currently sweet talking in her ear and making her giggle. Missy and Jasmine had been dancing all evening and were sitting this one out, their feet propped on chairs, drinking wine. Jude and Chase—who’d danced with all the sisters one by one that evening so nobody felt left out—were now dancing with Belle and Lily.
Dex glanced around. Cam was dancing with Aroha. No surprises there. But they weren’t canoodling. Cam held her at a respectful distance, and as the song came to an end, he just smiled and led her over to her niece and other friends. It didn’t look like she’d be warming Cam’s bed that night. Would he ever be able to get over Marama’s death? True, it had only been a year. Still, Cam was a relatively young man at forty-eight. Marama wouldn’t have expected him to stay single for the rest of his life, surely?
Or maybe she’d been the sort of woman who’d said, “If I die, I’ll haunt you if you ever sleep with anyone else.” Honey had said her mother was passionate and temperamental, and maybe Cam felt her ghost watching over him, and the guilt would always be too much to overcome.
Honey kissed his jaw, and Dex lowered his lips to hers. It wasn’t the night to be thinking about ghosts and death. The woman pressed against him was very much alive, and would soon be naked in bed with him, and he’d be able to stroke her soft skin and run his hands through her hair. That was all that mattered at the moment.
Honey lifted her head and moistened her lips as she looked into his eyes. Presumably she could feel his growing arousal.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”
But first there was the palaver of saying goodbye to everyone, of hearing good wishes and having final bits of confetti stuffed down his shirt, of watching Honey hug each of her sisters and wipe away tears.
Eventually he stood back, laughing, and let her get on with it, leaning against the bar with Jude, Koru and Chase.
“Another?” Jude raised his whiskey glass.
“No, I’m done.” The only thing he wanted now was his wife. His heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t believe the moment had finally come. Jeez, I hope I don’t screw it up.
“You all right?”
He turned his head to see the others watching him with amusement.
“He’s nervous,” Chase said in delight.
“Want some tips?” Jude asked.
“I think I’ll be okay,” Dex said wryly. He held out his hand to Chase, who shook it, to Jude and then to Koru. “Thanks for your help in getting us here.”
“Our pleasure,” Koru said. “Look after her, Dex.”
He nodded and walked over to where Honey was giving her father a final hug. He waited until she’d moved back, then smiled at Cam and held out a hand. “Thanks for all your hard work today.”
“My pleasure, son.” Cam ignored his hand and engulfed him in a manly bear hug. “Sleep well.” His lips twisted as they pulled back.
Dex laughed, turned and picked Honey up in his arms. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. To cheers and whistles, he carried her out of the room and down the hall to the elevator, and they waved their final goodbyes.
In the elevator, he released her legs so she slid down against him, swiped his key card and pressed the floor for their suite. Then he turned to her and took her in his arms.
“Hello, husband,” she murmured.
“Hello, wife.” He brushed her lips with his own. Hers were soft and he couldn’t resist running his tongue over her bottom lip, pleased with her answering shiver. “I can’t believe it’s actually our wedding night,” he murmured, kissing around her jaw to her ear.
“I know, me neither. It’s taken forever to get here. Now I never want it to stop.”
He began to kiss her again, but the elevator came to a halt, so he picked her up and carried her along the corridor to their suite. She took the card from him and swiped it, pressed the handle and he carried her inside.
Dex had already been up to the suite earlier to bring his suitcase but again he was stunned by the magnificent view of the Pacific through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sea black and silver in the light of the full moon that hung above the horizon. Someone had turned on the lamps on either side of the huge bed, casting the room in a warm, welcoming glow. The white covers had been scattered with red rose petals, and the room smelled of roses and the bowl of strawberries placed on the table to the side, with a bottle of champagne cooling on a bucket of ice.
He lowered Honey’s feet to the floor, and she danced away from him, twirling around the room like a princess out of a Disney film. Smiling, he popped the cork on the bottle of champagne. He wasn’t thirsty, but he thought she might like a glass.
Honey sang to herself as she danced, and he turned and sipped the champagne as he watched her, thinking how beautiful she was, almost ethereal. He was desperate to bed her, hard enough to hammer nails into the wall, his blood thundering through his veins, but a small part of him wanted that moment to go on forever, like Christmas Eve, full of promise, nearly always better than the actual day.
And maybe that was what worried him the most. That they would make love, and then it would be over, and it would be a huge anti-climax. His lips twisted at the pun. Of course it would be wonderful having her forever, sleeping beside her every night, sharing his life with her. But that moment of anticipation would be gone. And what if it didn’t live up to his dreams? She’d told him that Mc-F*cking-Idiot had called her frigid and boring, and she’d admitted she herself was worried about it. He’d brushed away her concerns, but they returned to niggle at him, and he knocked back the rest of the champagne, cross with himself for spoiling the moment.
He slipped off his jacket and hung it over the chair. Keep calm, he told himself. Nothing would be served by winding himself up into a state at this late hour.
Honey had stopped singing, so he turned to see her staring at him, eyes wide.
“What?” he asked.
“You.” She walked up to him and fingered his waistcoat. “Look at you.”
“I’ve had my jacket off most of the evening.”
“Yes, but now I have you alone…” She slipped her arms around him. “You are one gorgeous man, Dexter Mark Concannon.”
“Why thank you, wife.”
She giggled and pressed her lips to his. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kissed her, long and leisurely, enjoying the sweet taste of wine and chocolate on her lips.
Just as he was getting into it, however, she pulled back. “Um, Dex?”
He lifted his head. “Yes?”
“Um… This is a beautiful dress I’m wearing, don’t you think?”
He smiled and stepped back to admire it. “Definitely. Very you.”
“As it’s my wedding day, and I’ll never get to wear it again, I thought I might keep it on a while longer.” She looked up with hopeful eyes.
He met her gaze. Disappointment flooded him, but he forced a smile on his face. She was obviously nervous, like he was. She wanted to wait, to make the moment last a little longer. “Of course. Got to make the most of it.” He turned away to hide his frustration. “Want a glass of champagne?”
She caught his arm and turned him gently back.
“I said I wanted to keep the dress on,” she whispered. She reached up on tiptoes and let her lips brush his. “Not wait.”