Hard Compromise (Compromise Me 2)

The quartet transitioned into Mendelssohn and everyone stood and turned to watch the bride and her father walk down the aisle through a lazy rain of rose petals.

Kate looked beautiful in a slim, white column of silk. Beside her, Richard beamed. A subdued chorus of sighs and some sniffles sounded as they passed.

When they reached the altar, the guests sat. Richard kissed his daughter, hugged Aaron, and took his seat in the first row next to Rebecca. The officiant welcomed everyone. Laurie did her best to focus on the ceremony, but her gaze kept drifting to the right like a swimmer caught in a riptide. The words of the ceremony faded as she concentrated on fighting the pull. After a few moments she gave in to the inevitable and let her attention slide to Booker, only to get a hard little jolt when she found his dark eyes staring back at her.

Her heart stumbled, and then raced. She searched his face for some clue of his emotions, but his expression gave nothing away. Nor did it waver.

From what seemed like a thousand miles away, the officiant intoned, “We’ve reached the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ point in the ceremony, but I’m not a stickler for tradition, and, well….Kate and Aaron aren’t particularly interested in hearing any reasons they shouldn’t be married.”

He paused while the guests chuckled, then added, “Instead, they’d like to invite you to share your words of wisdom and love with them.”

A few hands went up. The officiant nodded at a silver-haired man near the front. A young woman in a red dress brought a microphone over. The man stood and said, “I’ll start by laying out my credentials. Elise”—he gestured at the sweet little old woman beside him—“and I will celebrate forty-three years of wedded bliss next month.” He paused to accept applause before continuing. “So, you know, we might have learned a lesson or two about how to make a relationship last. I think it comes down to three things. Listen to each other, always find a compromise, and—”

“Lots of sex!” Elise interjected.

Everyone laughed and clapped. When the officiant recovered, he motioned to a woman a few rows ahead on the groom’s side. She stood, holding a blanket-wrapped newborn, and waited until Miss Microphone tilted the mic at her before greeting the room.

“Hey, Kate. Hey, Aaron. Congratulations. We’re all so happy for you.” The comment brought a quick round of endorsing applause. “I wanted to tell you never to give up on each other, or the dreams you share. Even when the odds seem stacked against you.” She lifted the baby a little higher in her arms, and smiled. “Love can make dreams come true.”

While onlookers applauded, she sat. The sandy-haired man beside the new mom wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissed her, and then the baby.

Laurie snuck a glance at Booker. He caught her looking. After a suspended second one brow cocked up in a silent challenge. The officiant asked if anyone else would like to speak. Laurie raised her hand before her mind realized her body had gone rogue.

Wait. This isn’t your best idea…

He pointed to her and nodded.

Okay. Fuck it. Let’s do this.

She stood on wobbling legs and cleared her throat while every eye in the crowd turned to her. In the second row of the bride’s side, Miranda McQueen scowled and muttered something to the equally dour woman sitting beside her.

Simmer down, bitches. I’m here until Booker tells me to go.

The attendant handed her the microphone. She wrapped her sweaty palm around the grip and did her best to hold it steady. “Hi. I’m Laurie and, um, I don’t have forty-three years of marriage as a credential, or a baby, but I recently learned an important lesson about love. It…uh…” God, why was it so hot in February? She wiped her forehead and cleared her throat. “It takes courage. Courage you obviously have, since you’re standing up there ready to pledge yourselves to each other.”

The observation brought a smattering of applause. She used the moment to catch her breath, but then her eyes reconnected with Booker’s and the intensity of his gaze left her winded again. “Not everyone has the courage. I didn’t. I guarded my heart. Pretty much from everyone, but especially from a certain man who always seemed to be there when I needed someone. He always had my back. I took his help—not graciously, I’m ashamed to admit, but I took it—and I relied on his strength, but when it came to love, I pushed him away. I told him he didn’t understand me. I told him he couldn’t understand me. But it was a lie. He understands me better than anyone.”

Silence met her confession. The trickle of a fountain in the distance became unnaturally loud. She swallowed, and gave voice to the question silently thrown at her from every direction. “What kind of self-sabotaging idiot does that?”

The salty sting of tears blurred her vision, but not before she saw Booker step out of line and make his way down the aisle toward her. Heads turned to watch him close the distance.

She licked her lips, and started talking faster. “One who lets fear rule her life. I thought, deep down, I really didn’t have as much to offer him as he offered me, and certainly not everything he deserved, but I was wrong, because…because…” She trailed off as Booker drew even with her row.

He extended a hand to her. “I’ve waited a long time to hear this, Jailbait. Get over here and say it to my face.”

Her feet refused to move. Th

e blonde beside her stood, gave her a small shove, and stage-whispered, “I swear to God, if you don’t get your butt over there and tell the man you love him, I’m going to hurdle you and say it myself.”

That put her into motion, even as a tension-relieving laugh rippled through the onlookers. She squeezed past the older couple, stumbling a little as she reached for Booker. And then he had her in his arms, holding her tight enough she could count the rock-steady beats of his heart. She looked up at him, blinked the tears away, and pulled his face into focus. “I love you, Booker. It’s always been you. From the first time you stood up for my scared, reckless, and secretly grateful ass, I knew you were the one. If you give me another chance, I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life proving it to y—”

His kiss cut her off—the warm, certain press of his lips like a vow against hers. The last of her anxiety disintegrated into a thunder of relief and need. It wasn’t until he raised his head and smiled down at her that she realized the thunder wasn’t just in her head. All around them, guests applauded. He gave her another kiss—short but just as potent—and then his mouth found her ear. “I love you, Lauralie, and I’ll give you as many chances as it takes. Promise you’ll do the same for me. Neither one of us will let the other fuck this up, okay?”

She drew back and nodded. “I promise.”

“Good.” He tipped his head toward the altar. “I better get back up there.”

“Duty calls.”