Page 75 of The Artist and the Muse

“What are you thinking about, Mister A-Kiss-For-Your-Thoughts?”

“The offer still stands,” I said, holding George more closely to me. She looked radiant in her wedding dress. Though it was short, the skirt flared out when I spun her, and the bodice hugged her body without being too revealing, decorated with crystals that caught the faint candlelight as we danced. “And I’m just thinking about our honeymoon.”

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going. Barcelona?”

“All because you heard that one famous prince of Metropolis went there on his honeymoon—”

“Hey, it was the actress he married that I like. I don’t care about Prince Kostas ofDorapolis,” she protested with a playful grin.

I knew for a record that she followed both of them closely in the tabloids. “Okay. Next guess.”

“Hong Kong?”

“You’re much colder.”

“Is it somewhere you’ve been before?” She cocked her head to one side, examining me.

“Yes.”

“Have I been there before?” The band switched to a faster song, and I dipped her dramatically, laughing when she nearly lost her balance and fell before I caught her.

“I don’t think so.” Had she been to Montréal? It was known for its fashion, so maybe she would have been there for a modelling gig.

“Is it somewhere that I’ll like?” She cocked her head to one side.

“I hope so.”

“George!” She swatted my arm. “Give me a serious answer.”

“I am being serious.” I pulled my face into the most wacky expression I could muster, eyebrows scrunching up and tongue poking out. “So serious.”

Georgia burst out laughing. I could listen to that sound for the rest of my life and never be bored. “Is it… Cuba?”

I rearranged my expression into a more sedate one. “No, but now I’m thinking it would be nice if it was. We could go to the beach together, swim, and drink fruity cocktails with little umbrellas in them.”

“You just want to see me in a swimsuit.”

“Guilty. And has anyone ever told you that you’re awful at guessing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. IguessI’ll just let you surprise me.”

Georgia rested her head against my shoulder, and that small gesture of affection nearly undid me. Despite her having just agreed to spend the rest of her life with me, I couldn’t help but cherish every moment with her.

She was the woman I wanted to tell everything to, to spend my whole life with—and somehow, in some way, she was in my arms.

“I feel like I’ve tricked you into falling for me, and at any moment now, the spell will break and you’ll realize what you’re doing here, and that you don’t really want to be with me after all,” I said.

We hadn’t choreographed our first dance, both of us deciding we’d rather spontaneously spin each other around the dance floor. I was grateful for that now, because I would have lost all memory of our choreographed steps at the look in her eyes.

“George,” she said, her tone admonishing. “I love you. And I assure you, you’re awful at lying, so I highly doubt you’d be able to trick me into falling for you. I walked into this with my eyes open, just like you, and I assure you, I love the man you are, and the man you were, and the man you’ll become.”

She let go of my hand and bracketed my face with her palms, dragging my mouth an inch or so down to hers. Her kiss was electrifying and tender all at once. Georgia was everything I’d ever wanted wrappedup in one woman, and I didn’t know how I’d gotten so lucky to find her. But I knew I’d never take her for granted after spending so many years apart.

My hands latching onto her waist, I tugged her even closer to me. Somewhere, in the distant crowd of wedding guests, I heard whooping and hollering and cheers, but I couldn’t bring myself to care about them. I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything but holding my wife in my arms.

***

After our first dance, we remained on the dance floor for a few more dances. But when the song switched from slow ballads to faster, more upbeat tunes, I stepped off the dance floor. Georgia stayed, holding hands with Abigail and spinning around to the electronic music.

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