Page 95 of Sinclair Duet

“Five months,” Damien whispered. “If what we shared isn’t rekindled, we’ll agree to amicably part ways.”

Part ways.

Is that possible now that we’ve both remembered the passion?

The clergy spoke. “I don’t encourage contingency plans at a wedding.”

I scoffed. Of course, she didn’t. Then again, she didn’t know our history. I feigned a smile. “Maybe you should. It sets a goal.”

Damien nodded, the storm inside his orbs settling. “Are you ready?”

The tips of my lips curled upward as I leaned into his touch. “No, I’m not.” I inhaled. “Let’s do this.”

Releasing my cheek, Damien’s strong arms surrounded me as with a sigh, he dropped a kiss to the top of my head. Reaching for my hand, we turned to the clergy.

“Shall we begin?” the pastor asked.

Damien and I nodded. At the same time, the doors at the back of the chapel opened. We both turned. Damien’s grip of my hands intensified as his spine straightened. There was no attempt at masking his displeasure. His once-supportive voice boomed, echoing through the chapel. “You’re not invited.”

Amber and Darius came to a stop.

“You need a best man,” Darius said, “if you want to make this legit.”

I turned to the minister. “Are witnesses required?”

“Not by Florida law. However, it is recommended to have two besides the notary.”

“You and Dani.”

Dani moved to my side. “I can be both best man and maid of honor. Just remember this, Damien, when you’re sending out thank-you gifts.”

While I’d hoped that Darius and Amber would leave, they took a seat in the second row. Damien, Dani, and I faced the clergy.

Pastor Abrams’s voice was steadfast, a calming melody to the storms brewing in our periphery. “It brings me great joy to exercise my ability to bring two people together in matrimony. The timing isn’t as important as what is in your hearts. One last time,” she said, nodding toward me, “Gabriella Crystal, are you present of your own free will?”

“I am.”

She nodded and turned to Damien. “Damien Sinclair, are you present of your own free will?”

“I am.”

The rest of the ceremony faded into the buzzing of my insecurities and doubts. What held me tight, anchoring my feet and giving me hope, was the pastor’s discussion of the inscription in the ring. It was as if Damien’s nana and papa had anticipated and planned for the multifaceted being of their grandson.

Damien wasn’t a man who fit into one box.

At one time, I’d feared I wasn’t strong enough to be his other half.

Looking at my hands in his, I realized I was.

I was strong because I’d survived loving this man, endured remembering him, and was determined to do my part to not onlyrekindle our earlier love, but also our desire for one another. I wasn’t going into this marriage blindly.

Damien was a man I knew well.

The usual words were spoken.

Love.

Devotion.

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