Her sharp intake of breath nearly brought me to my knees as the tears, once held in, poured down her face.

With a squeal, both of her arms flew around my neck. “You.”

“Me what?” I was too happy to care that everyone was watching us—gaping like idiots.

“It’s always been you.”

I set her on her feet. “Does that mean you can take down those posters in your old bedroom and replace them with pictures of me?”

“Silly.” She rolled her eyes. “Your name is written in invisible ink behind the posters. I had to do something just in case you came into my room and discovered my secret.”

“Hmph, secret.” Max coughed next to Colt.

As if realizing she had an audience, Milo quickly tucked her arm within mine and cleared her throat. “We’re ready.”

“Dearly beloved—”

“I have a few words.” Grandma stood.

Jason quickly tugged her down and gave me a thumbs-up. Funny, because his thumb was the only working body part currently in his possession.

“Who’s that?” Milo whispered.

“Your grandma.”

“No, the guy next to her—holy hell!”

The pastor cleared his throat.

“Is that Jason?”

“Dearly beloved!” the pastor said, a bit louder this time.

“Should he go to the hospital?” Milo whispered.

“After.” I grinned and kissed her hand. “We’ll take him after.”

“If he lives that long,” Max said helpfully.

I shot him daggers. He merely shrugged and motioned to the pastor. “Do go on, I believe you were saying, ‘Dearly beloved.’ ”

The pastor smiled tightly. “Dearly—”

“You sick son of a bitch!” a woman wailed from behind us.

“Oh, dear Lord,” I snapped.

The pastor blanched.

I turned slowly as Jayne made her way up the aisle.

“Jason, you—”

She paused and looked at me, then Milo, then around the audience. Her confused eyes suddenly turning embarrassed as she realized she wasn’t interrupting her ex-fiancé’s wedding, but mine.

“Jayne!” Max shouted. “There you are. We’ve been so worried!”

Uh-oh.

“You have?” she asked in a doubtful voice.

“Yes!” Why was Max yelling? “When you didn’t come back after your walk we thought you were done for! But here you are!” He put his hand over his heart. “I was afraid I’d scared you with my forthrightness . . .”

“Does he even know what that word means?” Milo whispered.

“. . . in asking for your hand in matrimony, dear, lovely woman of my heart!”

I snorted. “It’s like a bad play.”

“My hand?”

Max walked slowly down the aisle. “Your lovely, lovely, small, feminine hands. The same hands that caressed me last evening when I was distraught.”

“Is it me or did he suddenly develop a British accent?” Milo whispered.

“Sounds Australian.”

“No,” Milo hissed. “He sounds drunk.”

“You love my hands?” Jayne beamed.

“Both of them.” Max nodded. “All ten fingers. All ten toes.”

Milo nudged me. “Where did the toes come from?”

Max grabbed Jayne and sighed as he jerked her head toward his chest and started patting it. “Even your elbows.”

Jayne sniffled. “I’ve always been insecure about those.”

“Shh!” Max pressed his finger to her lips and shouted, “Those elbows made me feel for the first time! They made me love!” Raising his voice even louder, he addressed the crowd. “I’d marry her for those damn elbows! I’d marry her and I’d give her children! And I’d—”

“Max!” I hissed.

“Right.” He turned to Jayne. “Shall we sit while they perform the ceremony?”

She gave a watery nod and put her head on Max’s shoulder as they sat toward the back. I didn’t miss, however, the little bus motion Max made with his hands before he made a cutting motion across his neck and then stuck his tongue out as if he’d died.

Yeah, he’d taken another one for the team.

“Dearly beloved!” The pastor was nearly screaming now. He paused, sighed, then continued, “We are gathered here . . .”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

MILO

The pastor’s lips were moving, sounds were coming out of his mouth, but my focus was completely on Colton.

This couldn’t be real, right?

But I felt his hands in mine, I could practically taste him we were standing so close, and every once in a while he’d release my hands to touch my face.

“Milo?” the pastor asked.

Breathless, I shook my head and asked, “Yes?”

“Do you take this man?”

Colton squeezed my hands tighter.

My gaze narrowed in on his face as his smile fell, his eyes starting to widen with a bit of fear. Ha! Served him right. I went through hell. HELL, I tell you!

“Well,” I cleared my throat.

Colton leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “Skinny-dipping, wine, moonlight, swordplay.”

Those four words sealed my fate.

“Yes,” I all but shouted.

The pastor nodded. “And Colton, do you—”