A Wedding in December

“That would work.” He pulled her down and kissed her. She melted into him and then pulled away.

“What if she and Jordan kill each other in that cabin?”

“They’ll be fine.”

“If she grills him, is he going to give her anything she can use against you?”

“I guess we’ll find out. If she comes roaring in here telling you to run for your life, we’ll know Jordan divulged my biggest, darkest secret.” He stroked a strand of hair away from her face. “I love you, Rosie White. I love your little anxious frown. I love the way your hair swings when you bounce across a room. I love the way you care so much.”

“I have an anxious frown?”

“You do, and it’s cute.”

“I love you, too.” She really did. How could she have doubted it? “It’s good to be together like this. It’s good to be able to talk.” Her doubts had gone, chased away by a quiet evening spent together with the man she loved.

Everything was going to be okay.

He curved his hand around the back of her head and brought her mouth to his. His kiss was gentle, skilled and turned her brain and body to mush. When he lifted his head, she gave a murmur of protest and wriggled closer.

“Dan—”

“You’ve been a little quiet this week. Not quite yourself.”

Her heart pumped a little harder. If she was going to talk to him about her doubts, now was the time. But what was the point? She knew for sure now that this was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.

“It’s nothing—a combination of my parents being here, my sister overreacting, and the wedding plans.”

“It’s crazy, isn’t it? The dress, the guests, are these the right flowers.” He cupped her face in his hands and held her gaze. “I get it, baby, I really do. My mother is a little overwhelming, and you have been so patient and kind letting her take over and plan the whole thing.”

“It’s been so much work for her. I feel guilty about that.”

“Don’t feel guilty. She loves to be busy. Ever since we lost my father, she’s been the same. It’s as if she’s afraid to slow down. Doing this for us is making her so happy, and you’re kind to let her do it. Your kindness is another of the many things I love about you.”

What about her indecisiveness? Her tendency to flit from one thing to another? Did he love those things, too?

He did, she told herself. He absolutely did. He’d seen that side of her. He’d seen her making up a million excuses to not get out of bed to exercise, he’d seen her dither over a dress choice, and fret over whether she’d picked exactly the right subject to study.

“I find your mum inspirational. She keeps going. Keeps moving forward, even when her heart is broken and her feet must hurt.”

“Yeah, that’s my mother. But still, it can be exhausting being around her. And I’m going to make you a promise, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“I’m not Mrs. Reynolds.”

“A couple more days, and you will be.” He rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “We’re going to keep smiling and get through this wedding, and then next summer I’m taking you to Hawaii. White sand beaches, palm trees, lazy evenings sipping cocktails. It’s going to be incredible.”

A warm feeling of contentment spread through her.

This, she thought, was true happiness. It was one of those moments you wanted to bottle so that you could bring it out when times were hard.

“I’m still worried there are things we don’t know about each other. For example did I ever tell you that when I was eight years old I wanted to be a journalist?”

He pulled her close. “I thought you wanted to be a fairy when you were eight years old.”

“I did, but then I found out that being a fairy has lousy career prospects.”

“Was that the day before you decided you wanted to be a ballerina?”

She felt a rush of warmth. He did know her. “Are you suggesting that I flit from one thing to another?”