Pompous Player (Cocky Hero Club)
“Hi,” Harry whispers when I finally reach him.
He looks almost shy, but there’s also unbridled lust flashing in his eyes. I had a feeling when I chose this wedding dress, with a halter-cut top and a beaded bodice, that he’d like it. My friends from the salon curled my hair and pinned it up in an elegant updo, threading small pale pink roses throughout. Avery is wearing a dress the exact same color as the roses.
“Hi,” I say back, so happy I can hardly contain myself.
“You’re so beautiful.”
He takes my hands in his and we share a final meaningful look before turning to our officiant, Daniel. He and Harry served in combat together; Daniel was a military chaplain.
“Friends and family of Harry and Winter, we are gathered here today for a most joyous occasion,” Daniel says, grinning. “I couldn’t be more thrilled to be joining these two together in holy matrimony.” He looks from me to Harry. “Ready, guys?”
“Yes,” I say softly.
“Absolutely,” Harry says.
A few minutes later, we turn to the cheering onlookers and Harry grabs ahold of my hand and throws up our arms in celebration.
We just sealed our marriage with a kiss, and I feel more joy than I ever have. Avery is wiggling in her grandma’s arms, looking longingly at me, and I walk over and take her.
“Congratulations,” Viv says, hugging me gently since I’m holding Avery. “I couldn’t be happier for you two.”
“Thank you so much. And thank you for taking Avery last night and tonight.”
“Absolutely, anytime. I mean that.”
Harry comes over and wraps an arm around my waist, his smile triumphant.
“You’re my wife,” he says.
“Is that what that was?” I joke. “I thought I was buying into a time-share.”
“Funny girl.” He leans down to kiss me. “You want me to hold the peanut?”
“No, I’ve got her.”
“No, I’ve got her,” Aubrey says, walking over with her arms out. “Your photographer will want to get some photos of just the two of you, and Auntie Aubrey will go change and feed this little nugget so she’s happy when it’s her turn to be in the photos.”
“Oh, that would be great,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Any chance to spend some extra time with this little sweetheart.”
Avery and baby Chance like looking at each other. Aubrey and I sat under a beach umbrella with them yesterday morning and between the wet sand and looking at each other, they were fascinated by their new surroundings.
I’m happy Avery will have a cousin close to her age to grow up with. Aubrey and I are already talking about both families taking trips together when the kids are a little older.
Harry and I pose near the fountain and on the beach for the photographer, the sparkling water and setting sun creating the perfect backdrop. Harry told me Miami would be the perfect location for a December wedding, and he was right.
“Okay, let’s now move to the stairs in front of the house,” the photographer says, her assistant gathering up the lighting equipment.
“Give us fifteen minutes for a break and we’ll meet you there,” Harry says, taking my hand and walking me over to the beach house’s back lawn.
“If you think we’re going into the pool house to consummate this marriage, think again,” I say in a low tone. “It would take twenty minutes just to get me back into this dress with all the buttons on the back and the shapewear underneath.”
Harry gives me a playful look. “Who says I need to take the dress off first?”
“Look at you, Mr. Romantic,” I say, laughing.
“It does sound fun, but I’m planning to wait until tonight for that. And frankly, fifteen minutes would be an insult to my manhood.”
“Glad we’re on the same page. But if that’s not what we’re doing, what’s this about? I want to get the pictures done so we aren’t one of those couples who leaves our wedding guests hungry and bored for an hour and a half.”
“I think you’ll be okay with this detour my little control freak,” Harry says, kissing the back of my hand. “I have one more surprise for you.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me there’s about to be another wedding with a second wife,” I say, arching a brow. “I’m not about to be a sister wife.”
“Yeah, I’d like to not get murdered by my wife less than an hour into the marriage, so that’s definitely not it,” Harry mutters.
What more could there possibly be? Harry has already given me the wedding of my dreams.
“Over here,” he says, walking me up to the back of the house.
He holds up the small train of my dress as we cross a patio and reach a set of French doors.
“Inside?” I ask him, turning around.
“Yep.”
Harry’s friend, who’s at another of his homes in Switzerland, is allowing us use of the house for another week, so that Harry and I can have some time together now that we’ve gotten married.