Page 97 of Embrace Me Forever

“Because you didn’t account for us in your variables,” I murmur, my thumb tracing her chin.

“True. I guess that’s what happens whenyouhack someone’s life,” she says, her eyes daring me to disagree.

EPILOGUE – BLAKE

One year later

The Pacific Ocean stretches before us, its vast expanse melding into a haze where the azure sky kisses the sea. Our yacht, a magnificent hundred-footer from Hartley Marine’s timeless Blue Diamond collection, glides gracefully over the smooth waves. It’s more than just our version of the Love Boat. Today, it has been transformed into a floating chapel adorned with cascades of white and blue flowers, setting the stage for a day marked by joy and promises.

Decked in a crisp tuxedo, I stand at the altar, my heart racing with classic wedding jitters.

Clayton, my best man, casts me a knowing wink. “Relax, big guy. Today’s the one case where getting caught is the goal!”

“Smartass,” I retort, but it doesn’t ease my nerves. As the music swells, every muscle tightens in anticipation.

Then, there she is.

Georgia-May appears radiant in a flowing white gown that captures the soft light. I hold my breath as my gaze sweeps over her from top to bottom. Rob, the Hartley patriarch who has become like a father to her, walks her down the aisle. Despite hisyouthfulness, his presence is dignified, his steps filled with the pride of someone who cherishes her as his own.

Ahead of them, Coco, almost three now, and Mia, Rob’s daughter, take on their roles as flower girls with earnest delight. They toddle forward, scattering petals from their baskets with giggles that bubble over the music.

Every step Georgia-May takes closes the chapters of our past hardships, knitting a future with our unspoken bond. Her sister Anne, alongside her boyfriend Diego, watches with teary eyes, as do our close friends and family. Wyatt the pilot, Amber, and Isabelle, with all their kids in tow. Thomas gives a small bow, a silent acknowledgment of the journey we’ve shared.

When Georgia-May reaches me, her hands find mine, strong yet trembling. Her makeup is light, subtly enhancing her natural beauty. The glow of the setting sun reflects off the ocean, casting a radiant light that illuminates her features.

“You look absolutely amazing,” I murmur, and she simply smiles shyly, her own version of a blushing bride.

A breeze stirs, slightly lifting her veil as if even nature is jealous of me, unable to resist touching her. As the officiant begins the ceremony, our hands remain intertwined.She’s mine.

“Georgia-May, I vow to sail any storm with you, to anchor you to love and lift you with hope. I’m all yours.” A declaration thick with solemn emotion. My gaze remains locked on Georgia-May’s face. She is more than just my bride. She’s breathtaking, a vision of the love and strength that guide us both.

“And I,” she replies, her eyes glistening, “promise to be your haven, your joy in any darkness we might face. I’m all yours, Simon Cillian Blake.”

Our vows are spoken over the ocean’s murmur, a promise deeper than its depths, resonating within the hearts of everyone gathered. With the vast blue as our witness, we exchange rings, sealing commitments that will span more than a lifetime.

Finally, the moment every groom secretly lives for. With a gregarious smile, the officiant announces, “You may kiss the bride.”

I draw Georgia-May close, my hands framing her face. Our lips unite in a kiss brimming with joy. Unrestrained, filled with love, existing between us yet shared with the cherished souls witnessing our union.

The enthusiastic applause from our friends and family completes the formal celebration. The bouquet toss follows. While there are a few ‘suspects’ we think might catch it, it unexpectedly lands in Thomas’ hands. Looking somewhat clueless, he declares himself perpetually single. Yet there’s no denying the ecstatic grin spreading across his face.

From the floral merriment, we make our way to the dance floor for our first dance—a tradition I hold dear. As a slow love song plays, Georgia-May and I glide in unison, her hand in mine, her head resting against my shoulder. Perhaps I’m a bit of a sentimentalist, but with spirited, vibrant Georgia-May as my wife, this dance transcends the customary tokens of everlasting love. It marks the start of our grandest adventure, teeming with mischief and mayhem.

More couples join us, and after a few slow dances, I give the signal to the band. An upbeat country tune begins. We transition into enthusiastic swings, our movements naturally syncing with the beat.

“Where’s Linkin Park?” Georgia-May teases.

“Not today, baby,” I reply with a wink. Today’s playlist IS curated just for her.

As the lively tunes continue, a bark suddenly cuts through the fading notes of a song. The music slows as all eyes turn toward the sound.

Georgia-May’s smile widens into a mischievous grin as Anne approaches, holding a wriggling puppy adorned with a ribbon. A cute bull terrier with a black patch over its right eye.

“Meet the newest member of our family,” Georgia-May announces. “And don’t worry. Poppy the robot dog isn’t going anywhere!”

Laughter and applause swell among our guests, buoying the atmosphere with warmth. Poppy, ever the dedicated robot, struts her stuff, her mechanical whirrs humorously harmonizing with the pup’s enthusiastic yaps. Nurturing isn’t in my brooding corner anymore. Bring it on, be it leafy greens, furry friends, or fussy humans, and my wife’s gift perfectly captures this newfound side of me.

The evening starts to mellow. The Hartleys, along with Anne and her boyfriend Diego, close in for a bit of family banter. Anne spills her plans to tie the knot again with Diego, igniting a round of cheers and clinking glasses.

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