“You’ve what?”
“I’ve been having these weird things come into my head.”
He frowns. “Like what?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I thought it was just my imagination, but now I’m scared that it’s something more.” “What do you mean?”
“Like yesterday, when we pulled up, I imagined looking out of the window.”
He watches me.
“And then last night… I knew that doorway was there and I knew where the key was.”
He smiles softly, bends and kisses my cheek gently as he cups my face.
“I get flashing lights and things in my head. It’s weird, Alastar,” I breathe.
“It’s not weird. I imagine things all the time. Tis called romanticizing, Emmaline.”
I frown at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well.” He frowns as he tries to articulate his thoughts. “I don’t see the world as everyone else sees it. When I see certain things, I imagine it through the lens of a camera. I don’t understand how other people don’t see things the way I do.”
I think for a moment.
“And you said you want to dabble in writing, so maybe this is your brain planning out future books, imagining things that aren’t there as if they are real. Authors do this weird thing where they see scenes happening ahead of time and characters seem real to them.”
“That is one way to think of it, I suppose. Funnily enough, Brielle said the same thing.” Maybe my imagination is getting the better of me.
“What do you think of it?” he asks as he lies back and folds his arms behind his head.
“What if I’m…?” I fiddle with the blankets once more. I don’t even want to say it loud in case it makes it come true.
He takes my hand gently in his and smiles. “You’re what?”
“What if I’m psychic?” I whisper, horrified as my eyes find his.
He pulls me back down onto him. “Then my wife will be psychic,” he murmurs into my hair as he wraps his arms around me tightly. “I’ve never been one for convention.” His lips move to my neck and he starts to suck and nibble. “Could be kind of useful, actually.”
“Twinkle, stop it.” I try to pull from his grip. “This is serious and it’s scaring me.”
He kisses me gently. “Don’t be scared. You have nothing to be scared of. Just go with it, write down what you think about, and then we can sit down and try decipher what’s going on.”
My eyes search his. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Well, you are marrying me today, so you must be.”
I smile broadly and kiss his perfect lips. “You always make sense of the most illogical things.”
He holds me tight. “We can be crazy and illogical together,” he murmurs into my hair. “We are getting married today, after all. Mr. and Mrs. Illogical.”
I bite my lip to stifle my stupid smile. “And I have nothing to wear to my wedding.”
He smiles broadly. “Neither do I.” He kisses my forehead. “Maybe we should wear bathrobes. They are white and hanging in the bathroom…. definitely handy.”
“And matching.” I giggle.
He rolls me over and holds my hands above my head. “I love you.” He kisses me gently.
I smile as my eyes hold his. I love this man. I love that I just told him I am going crazy and he doesn’t care. I have never felt so accepted. It’s inspiring and yet terrifying at the same time.
The phone rings, making us jump, and Alastar leans over to pick it up. “Hello.”
“Hello, Mr. O’ Shea. It’s Ronan, the manager from reception.”
I smile. I can hear what they are saying through the phone.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but unfortunately I don’t have good news about today’s wedding arrangements.
“Why is that?”
“We cannot find a minister to marry you.”
Alastar frowns. “Why not?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we have contacted everyone we know and not one person is in town until the end of the week.”
Alastar purses his lips in annoyance but remains silent.
“We can make a booking for Saturday.”
Alastar exhales in frustration. “I wanted today.”
“I know, sir, and I apologize, but it is out of our control if you want the marriage to be legal.”
Alastar’s eyes flick to me and I nod. “It’s okay,” I mouth. “Book Saturday.” This could be good because I can buy some sort of a dress. My mind wanders to Brielle and I already know that I want to tell her.
He runs his hand through his hair as he thinks.
“I can book the same room you are in now for the weekend and we could organize the wedding for 2pm on Saturday.”
Alastar rolls his eyes.
I smile and nod. “Saturday will be good. We can spend the whole weekend here,” I whisper.
He watches me for a moment.
“It makes no difference, today or Saturday. It’s only five days away,” I argue.
He exhales in frustration and rolls his eyes. “Fine, book us in for Saturday.”
“Thank you, sir. I will make the arrangements.”