One to Take (One to Hold 8)

We’re at the end, and the minister speaks to the crowd. “By the power vested in me through the state of New Jersey, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Looking up, I fix this moment in my memory. The breakers crash on the shore in a shushy soundtrack, and my long veil swirls around us. Ribbons of sunset stretch above us in gold, pink, purple, and red lines, and white candles flicker in clear hurricane jars.

Stuart lifts my veil, and he’s under it with me, holding my chin as our eyes slide closed and our lips meet. It’s beautiful and perfect, and oh, so magical. All of my doubts are long gone. Stuart has always been the man of my dreams.

* * *

Our reception is only a few feet away on the beach with torches and dozens of candles in white paper bags arranged to light the growing dusk. A long table is set for our small party. One of Melissa’s marketing clients is a baker, and she provided a large cake wrapped in Tiffany blue fondant with real seashell

s and starfish for decoration. Graham cracker crumbs are the “sand,” which is spread out in front of the cake so a small heart with “S + M” inside it can be drawn beside the tiny shells.

We hired a DJ to play our favorite beach tunes, and a bartender keeps the umbrella drinks flowing. I hold a flute of sparkling champagne as I slow-dance in Stuart’s arms to the sweet strains of reggae.

“I can’t stop looking at you, Mrs. Knight,” he says, leaning down to kiss my lips, setting off a delicious hum just under my skin.

“Stuart William,” I sigh, eyes closed, listening to the music. “I wish you would take me home and love me.”

“What about our guests?” A smile is in his voice.

“They should go home and do the same.”

He laughs, and my eyes open. I smile, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him again as warmth unfurls low in my stomach.

“We have to at least cut the cake, or Sylvia will fuss.” His arms are warm around me.

“Your mother will not fuss at us for leaving. You just want cake.”

More deep laughter, and his eyes flicker with desire. “I’d rather have you.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the cake table, where he picks up a glass and taps it lightly with a spoon. Our guests stop dancing and turn to face us.

“We’d like to thank you all for joining us this evening,” he says. “Now we’re going to cut the cake so we can leave you all to enjoy yourselves.

“You mean so you can enjoy yourselves,” Patrick shouts, and everyone laughs.

Stuart smiles, and looks at me. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”

Picking up the large knife, I reach forward and place my hand on the top of his for the photograph. One slice, and Kenny is at our side, plating it and handing us each a dessert fork. We cut small pieces of the fluffy white cake topped with French vanilla cream frosting. A ribbon of toasty coconut, zesty lime, and rum is in the center, filling my mouth with a burst of the tropics.

My eyes go wide. “I changed my mind. I want to stay and eat cake.”

We laugh, and Kenny cuts a bigger piece. “I’ll save this for you,” she says, giving me a hug. “Now get out of here.”

“You’re the best friend anyone could ever have,” I gush, and we laugh more.

Stuart is shaking hands with Derek, and I hear a bit of their conversation.

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be in Princeton long.” His handsome former partner is grinning.

Derek’s wife Melissa pulls me into a hug. “The wedding was beautiful. I can’t wait to visit you both in Montana again.”

At last we’ve greeted all our guests, and we’re walking hand in hand toward the parking lot where Stuart’s truck is waiting.

“This time tomorrow we’ll be in Great Falls,” I say, looking up at the starry sky and thinking about my wish from so long ago.

24

Peace