I turned to him as we arrived at the spot where we would pledge ourselves to each other.
“I can’t think of a better way for us to do this than just the two of us. We can do another ceremony with our friends when we get home, but it’s not about the wedding with us. It’s about the marriage.” I hadn’t realized the difference until Jules. “And I don’t want to wait.”
“No cold feet, then?” he teased.
“Nope.” I wriggled my toes in the sand. “Warm and toasty.”
“Because as your best man, I could—”
“Not just my best man,” I interrupted, raising his hand to my lips. “My only man.”
“Yeah,” Julian agreed, because he was sensible that way. “I am.”
The officiant was a smiling older man dressed in rolled-up beige linen pants and a guayabera shirt with elaborate black embroidery on either side of the buttons down the front of the white shirt. He welcomed us and introduced himself before beginning the simple service.
When we said our vows to each other, each of us added the line “You and me. In love. Always.”
We exchanged rings, including a matching silicone band for me, and held hands as the officiant declared, “I now pronounce you husbands in love, in law, and in name. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”
The kiss was simple and chaste, but the gentle press of our lips carried with it years of truth and history behind us and the promise of years of love and new memories ahead of us. A vow we would never break.
When it was all over, when we’d signed the official paperwork and shared a celebratory toast of champagne, we slipped off our clothes until we were down to only the skimpy swimsuits Julian had dared me to wear under our clothes.
I chased him into the surf, tackling him bodily in the water and tangling myself in his limbs until we came up laughing and gasping for air.
And then I spent the rest of the afternoon playing in the sun and surf with my husband, my partner in crime, my Peanut, my person, and my very best friend.
He was mine, and I was his. Forever.