Mr and Mrs (Promises 1)

As we exit the building I get behind the wheel of my McLaren F1 and grip the wheel. This was a rash purchase when I was in my early twenties, but now I’m glad to have it. This baby can do two hundred and forty miles an hour. I plan on getting to my Molly in just under two hours instead of five.

When I make it across the bridge and out of the city, I hit the gas. Hard. Nothing and no one is standing in my way. I don’t care what I have to do or who I have to kill. My wife is mine. And I’m bringing her home, whether she wants to come or not.

Chapter Five

Phillip

I’m an hour into the drive and I don’t think my knuckles have stopped aching from how hard I’ve been gripping the wheel. I’ve kept my focus on getting to Molly, unable to think of anything else. But as the miles are eaten up under my tires, my mind starts to drift. I think about our wedding day, and then my thoughts go to our wedding night. Everyone tells you to try and remember as much as you can because over time the day will fade and all you’ll have are pictures. Bullshit. I’ll remember every second of that day for the rest of my life. And I don’t need any pictures to remind me.

I stand in a peach orchard at the end of a long row, dressed in a suit and tie. It smells like sweet fruit and springtime, but the scent does nothing to calm me. I fiddle with the cuff of my shirt, unable to keep my hands still. I’m waiting for Molly to walk down the aisle to me, and if I don’t keep my fingers locked in front of me, I may very well run down the second I see her and pull her to me. I need to try to even my breathing so that when she finally appears, I won’t scream like Braveheart and charge after her.

After what feels like an eternity, I see her at the end of the long line of peach trees. White peeks out among the leaves as she makes her way down the grove to where I’m standing. It takes all the power I have inside me not to take a single step. Instead I just watch her as she comes into full view.

She’s wearing her hair down and in soft waves past her shoulders. She has one section pulled back with a cream-colored flower, and she’s smiling at me with big excited eyes. I feel myself swallow back a moan of equal parts excitement and overwhelming love. She looks so fucking beautiful.

As my eyes travel lower, I see she’s got on a simple cream dress. It’s got small straps over her shoulders, and the rest is long and flowing. There’s a little lace at the bottom, and I see her toes peep out in the blue sandals she’s wearing underneath as she takes each step. Her father is on her arm, but she might as well be alone for all I see. The small crowd drops away, and as she reaches me, I can’t be still anymore.

Taking three giant steps, I go to her, taking her away from what’s holding her and bringing her to where I was standing. There are words being said, but I hear none of it, only speaking when prompted. I spend the entire ceremony smiling at my bride and whispering to her how beautiful she looks. Her cheeks are pink the entire time, embarrassed at being watched by everyone and by my repeated words. I think I say it to her a thousand times, but I just can’t stop myself. She’s just so incredibly perfect, and I love her more than I ever thought possible.

After the ceremony, I don’t let go of her hand. People ask her to dance, but I refuse. It’s the one day I can be as selfish as I want, and I won’t have her taken an inch from my side. I hold her close as we sway to the music, waiting on the moment when I can take her upstairs. I want her to enjoy her wedding day and have all the moments she’s been planning for, but I’ve had about enough of sharing her.

“Are you ready, my love?” I lean down and place a soft kiss on the bare skin of her shoulder. She leans into me, pressing her soft curves against me. When I feel her nod, I pull us away and drift into the shadows, away from the party.

We’d taken a drive out to the country right after I’d asked Molly to marry me. When she saw the peach farm, she made me pull over so we could take a look. The older couple who owned it were nice enough and allowed us to have a picnic there on the property. By the end of the day, I’d convinced them to let us have our wedding there. He said it should be good luck because he and his wife had been married on this little farm and celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary that year. It was all too perfect, and I was thankful I was able to give Molly what she wanted.

Our reception is held in the barn, and I have my car waiting out back for when she’s ready to go. After we sneak out, I drive up to the sound to a house I’ve rented for the week. I told Molly I would take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go, but all she said was she wanted me and nothing else for as long as possible.

When we get to the house, I make her sit still while I grab our bags out of the back and run them up the stairs into the beach house. I give the place a quick once-over, making sure that everything is in place before I go back outside and open her door.