“You came prepared,” I squeak through my open fingers.
“I came determined to win.” He reaches for my hand. “To win your heart, Lindsay. Forever.”
You ever realize that the world just continues marching on, second by second, regardless of your internal emotional state? That’s how it feels, breathing. Drew is on one knee. His hands are held out to me. One hand holds a box with a diamond ring in it, marquise cut, glittering like his eyes. Shining with love.
He’s begging me with those eyes. All of the love in the world is centered on me right now.
And I can’t breathe.
I’m holding my breath for all the good reasons. Every damn one of them. This is what joy feels like. This is what hope feels like.
I’ve known love. I’ve known happiness. I’ve known contentment, though only in slivers.
But joy? Joy has been elusive. It has been forced into hiding for so very long it’s not sure that there’s a safe place to come out.
Drew, before me, makes that safe space. It’s the air between us. It’s the look he’s giving me right now.
Pure joy.
Joy releases us. It gives us room. The sense of power that comes from being vulnerable cannot be measured. Joy lets us be our true self. Joy doesn’t judge.
And joy is right here, smiling at us both, telling me to say yes.
When joy gives you a suggestion – you listen.
“Yes,” I say, the word long and sweet, like the sun lives inside me and I’m opening my mouth to spread the light of love. Drew’s eyes glisten – he’s not crying, but now I am – and he takes my hand, so solemnly.
The ring slides up, over the knuckle of the left ring finger, settling in like it’s been there forever.
This is the part where people kiss, right? Where we hug and he picks me up and twirls me around in the air.
Where we breathe in each other’s fire and breathe out shared passion. Zeal. Zest for a life well lived for the next sixty years.
Right?
Instead, we’re deliberate. Achingly authentic every microsecond. Drew and I know the long, horrible road we’ve traveled to reach this point.
A point I didn’t see coming.
“I’ll marry you. We -- ” I’m about to say we have to tell Mom and Daddy, but given their plans for me, I’m not sure we should.
“That’s the part where we both win, Lindsay,” Drew explains, his grin widening. I didn’t think it possibly could, but it does. “We’re getting married now.”
“Now?”
“Today.”
“TODAY?”
“Yes.”
“We can’t get married today! We have to tell Mom and Daddy...” I frown.
“Baby, you know exactly what they’ll do.”
I halt. “They’ll stop us.”
“Yes.”
“And try to send me back to the Island.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He leans in and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. “But marrying me today can make damn sure they can’t control you any longer.”
“You want to marry me so you can control me?”
“I want to marry you so I can make love to you.”
“Nice try.”
“What? I do.”
“We don’t have to get married to do that! Let’s stick to the topic at hand.” Sex has been the last thing on my mind, frankly.
Suddenly, it’s right there.
“But if we’re married, your parents can’t have any legal control over you anymore. They’re not your next of kin. I am.”
Next of kin.
“So you’re saying that getting married today would take away power from my dad and mom?”
“Yes.”
I punch him. Then I kiss him, a long, wet, slow inventory that I hope shares all the dirty little ways I want to make love with him, someday, forever and ever.
“But -- ” I say as our mouths separate.
He sighs.
“I told you it’s a harmless little plan.” He can’t say the words without smiling.
I snort. “You are crazy.”
“You’ll do it?” He grabs my hands and holds them in front of me like we’re already taking vows. “Marry me?”
I nod. “But I won’t obey you.”
His mouth twitches with amusement. “When have you ever?”
“You really are serious. Get married today? How?”
“Do you know where your birth certificate is?”
“No.” Somewhere in a filing cabinet at The Grove, I suspect.
He reaches into his breast pocket again, holding up an envelope, wiggling it like a fan. “I do.”
“You stole my birth certificate from The Grove?”
“‘Stole’ is such a judgmental term,” he says dryly.
“It’s a true term!”
He pretends to be philosophical, pressing his fingers against his chin like Freud. “What, exactly, is ‘truth’?”
“The truth is that I love you.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“And your insane scheme to marry me is brilliant!”
“I know.”
“So let’s do it.”
“Really?”
“You’ve always said you were a man of action. Prove it.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Worse.”
“Worse?”
“It’s a dare.”
The growl from his throat sets my heart beating faster. “Do you,” he whispers, pulling me in hard against his hot body, “have any idea what hearing the word ‘dare’ from your mouth does to me?”
“Show me.”
His throat moves as he swallows, eyes half-hooded and dark. “Let’s go back to my place and I’ll show you.”
I wince at the thought of going back there.
“No,” I say between kisses. “I have a better idea.”
He pulls back and gives me an evaluative look. He’s reading my mind. I let him.
“Let’s do it, then. Get married,” he says, nodding.
“Where?”
“Where else?”
“Vegas,” we say in unison.
Chapter 18
Drew
This isn’t how I envisioned our wedding, but I’m a realist.
And realistically, it was going to be a long shot that I could pull this off without Harry and Monica learning about our plans.
If anyone can do it, though, it’s me.