THE BEACH at sunset, Meg in a filmy golden skirt that blew against her legs and a lacy, beaded top that dipped between her breasts, the golden colour making her skin seem whiter. Two gardenias pinned in her hair, feet bare but for the sand that clung to them.
Mrs Anstey, Bill, the Richards family, his manager and Meg’s friends from the hospital. Eddie stood beside him, Meg’s cousin Libby beside her, Meg shaking as much as he’d been shaking—excited yet somehow terrified that something might still go wrong. Excited yet somehow terrified by the magnitude of his love…
Sam rolled over so he could tuck his body around his wife’s, spooning into her back so he could feel the warmth and softness of her against his skin.
She moved, snuggling closer, then turned and put her arms around his neck.
‘Did we really do it?’ she whispered, moving her head to his pillow so her lips were only inches from his own.
‘Get married?’ Sam lifted his left hand from beneath the sheet and held it so she would see it.
‘I guess we did.’
Then he found her hand and brought it out as well, so their two hands intertwined, the new gold rings glinting in the moonlight that streamed through the windows of the old house.
‘Did I mention love, Mrs Agostini?’