~12~

Jameson Kane was nervous. Very, very, nervous.

It was six-thirty, and no Tate.

He had known he was taking a risk. When Jameson had called his lawyer about drawing up the prenuptial agreement, he had figured on giving it to Tate in Boston. She could just come down to the office and the lawyer could explain everything. A conversation could actually take place.

But then it turned out Jameson's lawyer was dealing with another client in Singapore. Once Jameson got his mind set on something, though, it was hard to turn it off. He didn't want to go to Singapore, but he was willing to go to Hong Kong. His lawyer agreed to start on the paperwork, then they could go over it together when it was finished.

Jameson didn't know what Tate expected from him. Did she honestly think he would get down on one knee? Sing her a song or something? Fuck that noise. It hadn't even occurred to him.

The only thing that had been going through Jameson's head was that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and he wanted that to start as soon as possible. Immediately. So if that meant flying them halfway around the world, then so be it. Whatever it took.

Apparently Tatum didn't feel the same way.

“Don't worry, man,” Ang mumbled, then Jameson felt his hand on his shoulder. “She'll be here.”

“This isn't exactly how I pictured this all going. You're supposed to be here for her, not me,” Jameson sighed.

“Consider it a bonding opportunity,” Ang suggested.

“Don't make me ill.”

In all honesty, Jameson was grateful for Ang's presence. The younger man had an upbeat, jovial personality. Somewhat of a glass-half-full kind of outlook. So while Jameson felt like he was slowly drowning, waiting to see if she would show up, waiting for some sort of text or phone call, at least from Sanders, it was nice having Ang there, trying to cheer him up.

Though “trying” was the keyword.

“Maybe they got caught in traffic?” Ang offered.

“Please stop talking now,” Jameson groaned, then looked at his watch again. Six-forty-five.

“I do have another engagement,” the minister Jameson had hired piped up.

“Just give it some time,” Jameson snapped.

But fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of them. The sun had almost set and a strong breeze was rolling in off the ocean. A beach wedding had seemed like a romantic idea. Now it was just depressing.

Maybe she and Sanders ran away together. Would fucking figure.

“I'm very sorry,” the minister apologized. Jameson sighed and turned towards him.

“No, I'm sorry for wasting your time. Thank you for waiting,” he said, shaking the man's hand.

“Of course. And please, don't worry. I'm sure there's -,”

“We're here! We're here!”

Jameson turned around. Tate was running down the beach, Sanders jogging somewhat behind her. She was waving something in the air, trying to signal them. He took a deep breath, let his eyes fall shut.

“Thank god,” he murmured.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I had to return a bunch of stuff, and we lost track of time, and then traffic was a bitch, and I'm just so sorry,” she sounded out of breath as she reached them.

Jameson opened his eyes and looked down at Tate. Her dress was simple – a short, strapless, cream colored number. She didn't have any shoes on, or any accessories, except for a random batch of white flowers that she was clutching in her right hand. They looked liked they had been plucked from a garden. Her hair was up in a high, messy ponytail. Her eye makeup was dark and smudgy, and she wore pale pink lip gloss.

She looked exactly like the woman he had first met, catering that party so many years ago.

I am so fucking in love with this girl …

“I thought you were standing me up,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“Please. I had Sanders stop by the hotel, I saw your will – very generous, Mr. Kane. I'm not going anywhere,” she teased him.

“God, I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“I'm sorry,” the minister interrupted, “would you still like to do this?”

It was short and simple, just how Jameson had been hoping. Sanders and Ang acted as witnesses. Tate said “I do”, which was like a weight off. No going back, now. When it came time to exchange rings, she tried to wave the man away.

“We don't have those, it's okay,” she told him. Jameson held up his hand.

“Maybe you don't, but I do,” he said, digging in his pocket.

“You got me a ring?” she asked.

“I already had a ring,” he corrected her.

“You had a ring, and instead of giving me that, you gave me that prenup!?” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips.

“I was going to give it to you after you looked at the prenup, but you were too busy having a fucking fit. Now shut up and hold out your hand,” he ordered. She did as she was told and he slid the large diamond onto her ring finger, happy that it fit well. He'd had it sized based on one of her other rings.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, bringing her hand to her face. “This is beautiful. Jesus, Jameson, where did you get it?”

“Harry Winston.”

“Pardon?”

“Harry Winston. I had it made in New York. It took a while, I worked with a lot of designers. If it was going to sit on your finger, then it had to be perfect. No one else will have that ring. Just you.”

Tate stared at him for a second, tears filling her eyes. He hated it when she cried, but he was glad that she remembered. Glad she remembered as well as he did.

 

“There will never be a ring from Harry Winston. I will never ask you to marry me. I don't want those things, I never did ... I don't want to put stars in your eyes, I'm not that guy. I'm the devil, and I don't have any plans to change ...”

 

I am so fucking stupid. I take back everything I said – I should've gotten her this ring in the beginning. We should have been together from the start. I am that guy, and I do want to see those stars in her eyes. Want to know I'm the only one to put them there.

Luckily, before Tate's tears could spill over, she practically jumped on him, kissing him in a way that made the minister blush.

“Excuse me. Excuse me!” the man cleared his throat. “I haven't gotten to that part yet.”

“I think they're there, dude,” Ang's voice laughed.

They broke apart long enough to hear the rest of the minister's speech and thank him. Jameson gave him a huge tip before waving goodbye. Then he shook hands with Ang and thanked him for being there, thanked him for his calm demeanor. Ang laughed at him, then actually hugged him.

Jameson managed to keep his dinner down.

Tate threw the bouquet in Ang's face before giving him a quick kiss goodbye, thanking him profusely and promising to wake him up early the next morning so she could yell at him for keeping everything a secret. Then she kissed Sanders, but there wasn't anything quick about it. She practically dipped him, shoving her tongue into his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” Jameson snapped. She pulled away laughing.

“Told you,” she snickered, winking at Sanders. Jameson had no clue what that meant and chose to ignore it, walking a little ways back with Sanders.

“Thank you, for doing all this. I know it makes you uncomfortable,” Jameson said, resting his hand on Sanders' shoulder.

“It's not so bad, when I know the outcome will be a good one,” the other man replied.

“You had more faith than I did. She was so angry at the hotel, and then that was a looooong hour wait,” Jameson told him.

“Yes. She had somewhat of a break down in the car. Sometimes it takes her a while to realize what is good for her,” Sanders explained.

“Sometimes I think I'll never understand her as well as you do,” Jameson sighed.

“A little mystery is good for a relationship.”

Jameson barked out a laugh and stopped walking, pulled Sanders into a hug.

“I'm so glad you came. There's no one else I would want by my side at this moment,” he whispered. Sanders nodded, hugging him back.

“Not half as glad as I, sir. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.”

They pulled away, clearing their throats and blinking their eyes. They made plans for the next day, then Jameson said goodbye before turning and heading back to Tate.

“I almost thought you were going to go home with him,” she laughed. Jameson rolled his eyes.

“You have to obey me now, you took an oath, so shut the fuck up,” he ordered. She snorted.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“What do you want to do now, baby girl?” he asked, looking down at her as they strolled along the beach. She shrugged.

“I don't know. This is your party. You didn't plan anything beyond this?” Tate asked.

“Not really.”

“You suck at this.”

“Tate?”

“What?”

“Shut up now.”

“You know,” she ignored him, “if you had done this like a normal human being, there'd be a reception. A party, with people, things to do.”

“Ah. A normal human being. And what else would happen at a normal human being wedding?” Jameson questioned.

“Stuff. You'd throw the garter, I'd throw my bouquet, we'd do stupid dances, then you'd carry me over a thresh hold,” Tate prattled stuff off. Jameson sighed and stopped walking. He wrapped his arm around her waist, then yanked her legs up, cradling her in his arms.

“There's no thresh hold, so this will have to do. Where's your garter?” he asked, heading up the beach, towards a parking lot.

“I'm not wearing one.”

“Damn. Give me your panties, we'll throw those instead.”

“Not wearing those, either.”

“You, Mrs. Kane, are a very, very bad girl,” Jameson said in a low voice. She smiled up at him.

“That I am, Mr. Kane. You should probably punish me,” she suggested.

“Oh, I intend to.”

Jameson carried her up to the parking lot, but what he saw when they got there caused him to set her back down.

“What? What is it?” she asked, straightening out her dress. He didn't answer and she followed his scowl.

A group of guys was standing by the car Jameson had rented for himself. Most of them had large cameras hanging around their necks. How they'd found out what was going on, Jameson had no clue, but clearly, the secret was out.

“I didn't want to have to deal with this,” he grumbled, and right then, one of the camera guys spotted them. They all began moving and shouting at once.

“Kane! Kane! Is it true you planned a secret wedding?”

Flash. Flash.

“Kane! Is it true that when Mathias O'Shea opposed the wedding, you blocked all his shares!?”

Flash.

“Kane! Why did you get married in Hong Kong!?”

Flash.

“Guys, if you don't want to get arrested, I suggest you leave, now,” Jameson growled.

“Tell us about the wedding! Was Sanders there!?”

Flash.

“Give us a kiss! C'mon!”

Flash.

“Did I fucking stutter? I asked you to leave,” Jameson repeated himself.

Flash.

“Kiss her!”

Flash. Flash.

“Is it true you had a porn star as a best man!?”

Flash.

“If you take another picture, I'm gonna break that camera over your head,” Jameson threatened.

“Kiss her!”

Flash. Flash.

“Mrs. Kane! Why the secrecy? Didn't you want a big wedding!?”

Flash.

“That's it, you're gonna -,” Jameson started, but Tate grabbed his arm. When he looked down at her, he was shocked to see that she was smiling.

“What did you just call me?” she asked the paparazzi that was closet to her. He looked flabbergasted for a minute.

“Um, I asked if you wanted to have a big wedding, Mrs. Kane,” he repeated himself. Her smile got even bigger.

“I like that. Okay, you boys get one picture before I turn Mr. Kane loose on you,” Tate offered. Jameson groaned.

“Give us a kiss! Kiss her!” All the paparazzi were shouting at once. Tate laughed and stood on her toes, wrapping her arm around Jameson's shoulders.

“Just give them what they want,” she suggested.

“You better not get used to getting what you want,” he warned her, sliding his arm around her waist.

“Why not? I usually do, anyway.”

“Shut up, Mrs. Kane.”

Then he put on a good show, dipping her almost in half and kissing her soundly.