Mariska

Kenny waits at the top of the pier for me as Amy arranges my veil. As soon as Stuart left my apartment Friday night a week ago, I called my best friend, who immediately got Patrick involved, who put Amy in charge of tracking down my dress. Sylvia flew in to help with Lane, and Elaine called over Skype to tell me all the places she’d used to pull her last-minute ceremony together.

“I guess Stuart has one thing in common with his little brother,” she laughed as we clicked through websites ordering flowers and renting furniture.

“What’s that?” I’d asked, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

“When they decide it’s time, you get exactly seven days to make it happen.”

“But hang on…” I had to correct her. “Patrick said he’d been asking you to marry him for two years, and you kept turning him down!”

“Well, I guess you’re right,” she acquiesced. “Maybe Stuart and I have something in common.”

Last year, when I’d taken off to Montana following nothing but a dream and one encounter with a wounded cowboy, Elaine had been right there with me, covering for me and making a place for me in the Knight clan. Today she is one of my bridesmaids, along with Amy and Kenny.

We decided to set up a small enclosure, and Kenny had the idea of arranging the chairs in a swirled design. “Like a seashell!” she’d said.

Now the two of us wait at the foot of the pier where we both have gone in the past to cry or stargaze or wish for the ones we love.

“I can’t believe Amy found this dress,” she says, smoothing the front of my lace gown and wiping her eyes.

“That makes two of us,” I agree, fighting tears as well.

It’s a full-length lace slip-dress with delicate spaghetti straps. I’d seen it in Chicago the last time we visited, and Amy had gone straight to the store and ordered it rush delivery.

“She flew the whole way here with it on her lap.” Elaine is carefully pinning the large piece of tulle that forms my veil to the back of my head. A thin ribbon runs all around the edges, but otherwise it’s uncut.

“I didn’t want to risk my suitcase being lost or delayed and ruining everything.” Amy guides the delicate material over my shoulders and down my back and arms.

“It wouldn’t have been ruined.” Our glistening eyes meet, and we smile.

Amy’s light-blonde hair is styled in a loose bun at the back of her neck, and she looks as always like a supermodel.

All the groomsmen wear khaki pants and white button-down shirts, including Lane and Dex, who are adorable in shorts and suspenders and light-blue bow ties. The bridesmaids are in strapless, A-line cocktail dresses the color of sand and strings of beaded thongs are on their feet. They’re leftover from Derek and Melissa’s beach wedding last spring.

“Does that count as something borrowed?” I ask, but Sylvia answers me.

“It does not. Here.” She reaches under my veil and slips a double-strand pearl bracelet around my wrist. A silver starfish with sparkling crystals covers the center clasp, and it hangs loose on my arm. “It’s only borrowed if you give it back.” She winks, and I hug her.

“It’s gorgeous! I love it.” She kisses my cheek before ducking out of my veil.

My short hair is styled to the side with a large white jasmine flower over my ear. Looking around at the group, I take a deep breath. “I think we’re ready.”

Kenny skips to the end of the pier and waves her small bouquet. “They’re ready,” she says coming back to me.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies swirls through my stomach, and tears flood my eyes. “I can’t believe it,” I whisper.

Kenny grabs my hand tightly. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin the photos.”

Patrick appears from around the scrub to walk Sylvia to her seat. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up, and his shaggy hair is perfectly beachy.

“Wow!” he says loudly. “You guys are hot!”

Elaine skips forward and kisses him. “Not as hot as you!”

“Think Mariska would miss us?”

“I would!” I call out from the back.

He laughs and walks a few steps before his mother pulls his arm, making him turn around. Soft laughter filters through my bridesmaids, and my tears are forgotten as Elaine follows next. The girls all walk in a line, leaving me alone. I follow the path in the sand to Bill, who’s waiting just on the other side of the brush.

His smiles, his kind brown eyes twinkling. “Now this is how I like to see you.”

Slipping my hand in the crook of his arm, I give him a squeeze. “Thanks for coming all the way out here on such short notice.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

My stomach is in nervous knots as we get closer to the front. We pass Melissa with Derek, Elaine and Patrick, Amy and Marcus, Kenny and Slayde, until we’re there, and I lift my eyes to Stuart’s. He’s standing beside the minister, and when our eyes lock, those butterflies come soaring back full speed.

The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled like his brother’s, revealing lined forearms. I’m thankful for the bouquet of white roses and jasmine so he can’t see my hands trembling. The sea breeze musses his light brown hair, and he’s so calm and sure. My gorgeous cowboy.

The minister says something about giving me away. “That’s alright, Padre. We’re just going to keep this one,” Bill replies, and everyone laughs.

I reach over and give him a hug for that unrehearsed response, and when I turn back, Stuart steps to my side, wrapping a strong arm around my waist.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, and I look up into his smoldering hazel eyes. My nerves float away in the briny air.

The minister leads us through traditional vows. Our rings are simple platinum, with mine designed to fit the rose engagement ring on my hand. We promise to love, honor, and cherish; to be with each other through all the difficulties in life. We’ve already had a little taste of how difficult life can be, and I am confident when I say I will. Stuart’s assent is a low vibration massaging my heart.

We’re at the end, and the minister speaks to the crowd. “By the power vested in me through the state of New Jersey, I pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Looking up, I fix this moment in my memory. The breakers crash on the shore in a shushy soundtrack, and my long veil swirls around us. Ribbons of sunset stretch above us in gold, pink, purple, and red lines, and white candles flicker in clear hurricane jars.

Stuart lifts my veil, and he’s under it with me, holding my chin as our eyes slide closed and our lips meet. It’s beautiful and perfect, and oh, so magical. All of my doubts are long gone. Stuart has always been the man of my dreams.

---

Our reception is only a few feet away on the beach with torches and dozens of candles in white paper bags arranged to light the growing dusk. A long table is set for our small party. One of Melissa’s marketing clients is a baker, and she provided a large cake wrapped in Tiffany blue fondant with real seashells and starfish for decoration. Graham cracker crumbs are the “sand,” which is spread out in front of the cake so a small heart with “S + M” inside it can be drawn beside the tiny shells.

We hired a DJ to play our favorite beach tunes, and a bartender keeps the umbrella drinks flowing. I hold a flute of sparkling champagne as I slow-dance in Stuart’s arms to the sweet strains of reggae.

“I can’t stop looking at you, Mrs. Knight,” he says, leaning down to kiss my lips, setting off a delicious hum just under my skin.

“Stuart William,” I sigh, eyes closed, listening to the music. “I wish you would take me home and love me.”

“What about our guests?” A smile is in his voice.

“They should go home and do the same.”

He laughs, and my eyes open. I smile, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him again as warmth unfurls low in my stomach.

“We have to at least cut the cake, or Sylvia will fuss.” His arms are warm around me.

“Your mother will not fuss at us for leaving. You just want cake.”

More deep laughter, and his eyes flicker with desire. “I’d rather have you.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the cake table, where he picks up a glass and taps it lightly with a spoon. Our guests stop dancing and turn to face us.

“We’d like to thank you all for joining us this evening,” he says. “Now we’re going to cut the cake so we can leave you all to enjoy yourselves.

“You mean so you can enjoy yourselves,” Patrick shouts, and everyone laughs.

Stuart smiles, and looks at me. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”

Picking up the large knife, I reach forward and place my hand on the top of his for the photograph. One slice, and Kenny is at our side, plating it and handing us each a dessert fork. We cut small pieces of the fluffy white cake topped with French vanilla cream frosting. A ribbon of toasty coconut, zesty lime, and rum is in the center, filling my mouth with a burst of the tropics.

My eyes go wide. “I changed my mind. I want to stay and eat cake.”

We laugh, and Kenny cuts a bigger piece. “I’ll save this for you,” she says, giving me a hug. “Now get out of here.”

“You’re the best friend anyone could ever have,” I gush, and we laugh more.

Stuart is shaking hands with Derek, and I hear a bit of their conversation.

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be in Princeton long.” His handsome former partner is grinning.

Derek’s wife Melissa pulls me into a hug. “The wedding was beautiful. I can’t wait to visit you both in Montana again.”

At last we’ve greeted all our guests, and we’re walking hand in hand toward the parking lot where Stuart’s truck is waiting.

“This time tomorrow we’ll be in Great Falls,” I say, looking up at the starry sky and thinking about my wish from so long ago.