My palms sweat on the steering wheel. How could I entrust the details of Rachael’s perfect wedding to Beck, MJ, and Riley? I wanted to grab the walkie-talkie and demand to know where Maddie was. She was the only one I trusted in this situation. Shannon was too easily distracted, and Jan and Rachael’s mom, Sylvia, were probably busy bickering.
“Is it okay if we stop at the hotel for a couple minutes?” Rachael asked. “I need to fix my makeup for the hundredth time.”
“Yes. Absolutely.” This couldn’t have been planned better. The stooges would get a little more time to make sure the last-minute things were completed at the gazebo. Knowing Rachael, that was the whole point of stopping, not really the makeup check.
Inside the hotel, the lounge was dark and cool. Rachael went upstairs and I sat on one of the leather sofas and leaned my head back. I knew I should be savoring this time, this entire day, but I couldn’t wait for it to be over and have Rachael all to myself. Starting our lives together was something we’d already done—not as husband and wife for another few minutes, but the pomp and circumstance was only confirmation that we’d always be together. I’d known that since the first time I heard her voice.
I thought about my vows. I’d never spoken a word of them aloud, and each time I’d thought of what I would say, something new came to mind. But it was only Rachael and I and our friends and her family. If I stumbled a little with phrasing or had to repeat myself, nobody would mind. I knew it would come out best if I was genuine and my words flowed naturally. I didn’t want to sound rehearsed.
This was the last time I’d sit in this room—be in this hotel, our home—as a single man. I stood up, unable to keep myself from going to Rachael. Today, the distance from downstairs to up was too great standing between us.
I strode down the hall into the entryway and hit the bottom of the grand, turning staircase just as she was gliding down in her gown, one hand sliding down the railing beside her.
My breath caught.
I could only imagine how I looked standing there gawking up at my soon-to-be wife.
I’d fallen into a storybook wedding scene—our castle, my princess. Movies were made from moments like this. Little girls dreamed of moments like this. The way Rachael’s face beamed, even if I hadn’t already known she’d dreamed of this moment, it was plain for anyone to see.
“You’ve stolen my…” I took a deep breath. “My everything. It’s all there, inside you. Yours for the keeping.”
She put a hand to her chest, over her heart. “Same.”
I started up the stairs to meet her, stopping when I was one step below my bride, gazing up at her. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She knew what for—everything.
Her eyes rose over my head and swept across the wall murals of bright birds and trees, streams and flowers, catching the light pouring through the windows over the double hacienda doors. “Thank you,” she whispered back, both of us lost in our moment of reverence.
I held her then, resting my ear against her chest, listening to the solid, strong beat of her heart. A heart that held an unlimited supply of love, understanding, and forgiveness. Her fingers tickled the back of my neck. Her check pressed against the top of my head. I would’ve been a content man standing there for the rest of my days.
“We should go,” she said. “Don’t you think? Everyone’s waiting.”
I never wanted to move from this spot. “We could let them find us and get married right here.” I squeezed her tighter until she let out a little squeak and started laughing. “You’re probably right. We should go.”
I took her hand and escorted her the rest of the way down the stairs. In the center of the entryway, under the big mangrove root chandelier, I scooped her up and spun her in circles just to hear her laugh echo up to the top of the three-story-high ceiling.
“Best day ever!” she shouted, her head thrown back.
“Hell with it.” Overtaken by the urge to keep her all to myself for a bit longer, I darted toward the front doors and swung them open before she could protest. “This is our day. They can wait.” I carried her over the threshold onto the wide front porch.
“Merrick Rocha, impulsive?” Rachael rolled her eyes at me. “Never.” She kissed me, her hands cradling my face. I lowered her to her feet, sliding her body down against mine. She pulled her lips away all too soon. “Let’s not get all worked up before the ceremony. We don’t have that much time.”
“I can be quick,” I said, and tugged up the back of her dress a few inches.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the steps to the crushed shell courtyard below, her lace train trailing behind her. “I have things to say that I can’t put in my vows and have my mother hear.”
I knew what she was referring to—our extremely nontraditional first night together, which led into forever together. It was definitely something her mother never needed to know about. Sylvia would never forgive me even if her daughter had.
We strolled across the courtyard and under the bows of the key lime trees in the island’s grove. The sticky sweetness still lingered in the air even in fall when there was no fruit hanging from the branches. Rachael draped her train over her arm, ducked under one of the tallest trees, and perched on an old wooden bench, turning green from age and dappled in moss across the back.
I’d never wished I had a camera so badly in all my life. Sitting there in the grove, she was Queen of Turtle Tear Island, ruler of my life. “Don’t ever move from that spot. You were born to sit right there in that dress until the end of time.”
She shot me an ornery look. “What if I have to pee?”
“Go quick and run right back.”
She patted the empty spot beside her. When I sat down, she took my hands in hers. “I know I was born to be here. And we both know I never would’ve stepped foot on this island if you hadn’t made it so. With Dad being gone for a year, I should’ve been able to tell my mom what I wanted and taken the job you offered for myself, but I didn’t—I couldn’t leave her yet. You not taking no for an answer saved my life, Merrick. I can’t imagine where I’d be without you and this place. Nowhere I’d want to be. Not here—home. I know that night is still something you look back on with… well, not regret, I don’t think. Not exactly…”
“No. Never regret, Rachael. Embarrassment would be the appropriate sentiment.”
She rubbed her thumbs over the backs of my hands. “Never think you should’ve done otherwise. Was drugging me and bringing me here illegal? Hell yes.” She laughed, giving me an escape from my humiliation. “But at the time, I’m not sure there was any other way to get me here. I would’ve never left my mother on my own, and you wouldn’t have been able to convince me to go with you.” She gazed up at me from under her eyelashes, such an innocent, beguiling look. “Plus it’s how you operate. Never a straight line to any destination, you’re all over the map—that’s the genius of you. You see things from all directions, not just one. Most people would give up way before you ever start. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. You want something, you make it yours no matter the cost. I couldn’t be more blessed that you saw me as someone you had to have.”
Talking about when we first met brought back every desperate desire I’d had. “After talking to you during our interview, there was no way I was hiring anyone else to renovate Turtle Tear. It was you or this place was staying in a heap of rubble. It was too important to trust to anyone less enthusiastic. You were in love with this hotel, with its history. I’d never seen so much passion in a person before. You were this huge force tucked inside this woman who was content to put everyone else’s needs before your own. I couldn’t let that fire get snuffed out of you. It would’ve been a bigger crime than… than whisking you away and bringing you here.”
Rachael grinned. “A crime of passion.”
“Exactly.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “More passion than I’d bargained for, thank God.”
A four-wheeler buzzed by the end of the grove. “I think the vultures are circling,” Rachael said, turning her head toward the sound fading in the distance. “I’m ready. Are you?”
“Ms. DeSalvo—and this is the last time I will call you Ms. DeSalvo—I’ve been ready to make you my wife since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“Mr. Rocha—this is not the last time I will call you Mr. Rocha—take me to the end of the aisle already!”
I stood, grabbed her up off the bench, and tossed her over my shoulder. “Let’s get you to the altar caveman style.”
Rachael laughed and kicked her feet, her delicate beaded shoes glinting in the sun. “Caveman style, huh? Maybe you could show me a little more of that after the ceremony?” She grabbed my butt and squeezed.
“You have no idea what I want to do to you after the ceremony.” I returned her butt squeeze by turning my head and giving hers a bite through her lacy dress.
“Hey!” She squirmed, but I held on tight.
“I can’t believe you felt that through all of this lace.” I snaked a hand up the bottom of her dress. “Let’s see if you have undies on under here.”
She hugged her thighs together, trapping my hand. “You’ll have to just wait and find out!”
“I’m no good at waiting. How about I toss you down on the ground and find out right now?” I wiggled my fingers, tickling her thigh.
She squealed with laughter. “Stop! Merrick!”
I let her catch her breath before setting her on her feet, taking her face in my hands and kissing her. Caveman style.