Blame It On The Gin:On The Rocks

My eyes widen. My heart pounds. "You mean it?"

"It's all I want. I told you as much the night we met, but I didn't want to come on too strong. But now, even though it’s only a week later, fuck. I don't want to miss out on anything. Miss out on any life with you."

"I love you too, Grant," I say, running my hands through his hair. "And I know Tori would tell me to think this through, but I have, all week. I've been thinking about how much I care for you, how much I want to be with you, all in with you. I'm not going to blame anything on that pina colada, let alone the gin. This is my heart answering. Yes, yes, yes. I'll marry you. I'll be your wife."

"Good," Grant says, "because I'm ready to be your forever."

EPILOGUE 1

GRANT

One year later…

When Ginny suggested a wedding reception at On The Rocks, I thought it was the perfect idea. Neither of us have big families to bring to a ceremony, so we opted for town hall. She wore a beautiful white gown and I wore a tux, but besides Bobby and Tori as our witnesses, it was a quiet affair. Now, a few hours later, we're at our favorite bar with all of our friends and family, really having some fun. I catch Ginny's eye across the bar. She's chatting with Tori, who was her maid of honor, and I hold up a finger telling her to wait a second.

At the bar, I reach for the two French 75s and carry them over to my wife. Wife. It still strikes me as crazy. A year ago, when I met Ginny, I knew she was special, the kind of person you never let go of. And over the last year, we have fallen more and more in love, not just on our trip to Maui, but on our safari in Africa and our trip sailing the San Juan Islands.

Over and over again, we found ways to intertwine our lives, become one, and now we are husband and wife. "Thank you," she says as I offer her the champagne flute. "I don't want to get too drunk, though," she says with a laugh.

"You don't want to blame it on the gin tonight?" I say.

She shakes her head, "No. I want to remember everything about today."

I watch as she takes one tiny sip and then sets the glass on a server’s tray as they walk by. "Should we cut the cake?" she asks.

"Sounds great," I say. I set my glass down too and follow her to the four-tiered wedding cake in the center of the bar.

Everyone gathers around us and the band quiets. "Ladies and gentlemen," the DJ says, “it's time to cut the cake. Ginny and Grant, all eyes on you."

Our photographer circles us and we hold hands, slicing the cake together. I take a piece and offer it to my wife, who laughs as she swallows.

"It's good," she says, eyes sparkling.

"Well, I'd hope so. We got the best baker in town to make it."

She smiles, lifting up a bite for me, but instead of sweetly setting it in my mouth, she smashes it in my face.

I laugh, grabbing her by the waist and twirling her around the dance floor. "You're going to pay for that," I whisper in her ear as she kisses the frosting off my cheeks.

"I hope so," she says. "That was kind of the idea."

We dance with our friends, laughing, Bobby clapping me on the back. "Well, I scored when I got the best PR lead in town, but I think you one-upped me here," he says. "You found one hell of a bride."

I smile. "Thanks for reminding me that I needed to let go and have some fun," I say. "Honestly, without your encouragement, I wouldn't be here now."

After everyone has wished us well and we have had our fill of fun, we head out of the bar, hand in hand as our friends line the street with sparklers, sending us off as a large white Rolls Royce pulls up.

Ginny looks at me. "Are you trying to be my Prince Charming?"

I shrug. "I'm trying to be the husband you always dreamed of."

"You are," she says, looking at me lovingly, with devotion. "You're everything I ever wanted, Grant, and more."

In the hotel room, we undress slowly, with intention. We've been living together for the last year, but this is different. This is our first night as husband and wife.

"I feel nervous," she says.

"Really?" I ask with a smile. "Why?"

She turns to me. "I have to tell you something," she says.

"What is it?" I ask, worried.

"It's not bad," she says. "It's good news. It's just..."

"What is it, baby?" I ask. Both of us are naked and I wrap my arms around my bride, her skin warm and alluring. But tears are settling in her eyes, and I move to wipe them away with my thumb. "Ginny, what's wrong?"