Page 93 of Kiss the Bride

The celebrant speaks, Mitch speaks. Olivia doesn’t say a word. Not to Mitchel and not to me.

Society demands I accept her decision. To wear white and stand beside him. But when Olivia looks at me, understanding dawns. My heart pounds against my ribs, demanding I do something. I feel every pair of eyes on me, waiting for me to stand up and be a man—claim the woman I’ve loved since I knew the meaning of the word.

It’s only too late once she says, I do.

“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

What the!Jess winks at me while Mitch fumes. I’d bet serious money that Mitch hadn’t included the line in the ceremony script—and Jess found a way around it.

Do I? Can I? When was the last time anyone objected to a wedding and got away with it? I’ve spent too many nights thinking about all the might-have-beens, and putting what I thought was Olivia’s needs before my own. Not today. Not when I would bet my life that her needs and my needs are the same. She doesn’t want to marry Mitch. If she did, she’d have told me to leave the island because the woman I love would never put me through this. No. She wants me to stop it. She wants me to save her.

Olivia’s eyes meet mine and I momentarily drown. I mean, there’s no oxygen to breathe, only her. She smiles and cocks an eyebrow, daring me to do the unthinkable, and if it blows up in my face, unforgivable. The little minx is challenging me to fix the years of denying my feelings for her while she dated my friend.

All eyes are on me and even the celebrant is waiting for me to react. The guests, some of whom I now recognize from the dining room and bar seem to silently urge me on. Even Tash motions with her hand for me to say and do something to stop her friend from making a mistake.

It comes down to one woman. For me, it has always been one woman.I’ve told her I love her, but I’ve never fought for her.

“I object.”

The words get lost in the wind, louder than intended, but still a declaration of war. Mitch’s face turns red, and his fist connects with my face in a sharp, painful crack as I stumble backward. It hurts like hell, but I’ll consider it Liv and my first wedding present. I don’t care about the pain because I know from Liv’s smile, that she’ll kiss me better later.

“I object,” I repeat, louder, my voice growing steady with confidence that this is what Liv has been waiting for. She wants to trust that I love her, and to trust that I won’t change my mind? Well, how many people stop a fucking wedding? Huh? I hear muted cheering from the other island guests and wave tothem to lower the volume so I can be heard. “I object, el objecto, je proteste, saya keberatan.” I’ve probably butchered Spanish, French, and Indonesian, but I’ve got the celebrant’s attention. “How many ways do you want me to object?”

“Why?” Olivia asks as two guests hold Mitch back before he can attack me and accidentally punch one of the girls. “After all these years, why do you object?”

I close the distance between Liv and me until I can frame her beautiful face in my hands. She inhales as my thumbs stroke her cheeks. Our hearts beat so fast, and louder than a V8 engine and I’m ready to put it on the line. The question has to be asked, so I do, softly, “Do you want to marry him?”

“Why do you object, Hunter?” Olivia asks again, her mouth twitching and eyes stripping my shorts. Fuck, I love this woman.

“Because,” I say, pulling her close enough to feel her breath mingle with mine, our foreheads almost touching in the way they did down on the beach yesterday. My girl deserves a grand gesture—one that she can tell our grandchildren and one that no potential suitors for our future daughters will ever be able to meet. “I want to kiss the bride.”

“Then, what’s stopping you?” Of course, my girl has to have the last say.

Together With You

Hunter

I don’t wait foranyone to object to my objection, nor do I wait for my former best friend to block my path to the woman I love. If he tries, so be it. It would almost be kismet.

Once upon a time, Mitch Hazel asked for my permission to date, kiss, and love Olivia Woodgrove. I agreed because I thought he was the better man. Relegated to best man, I was prepared to stand by their side and support their union—because when Olivia looked at Mitch, it shattered my heart into a million grains of sand. I loved her enough to let her go to a man who I believed loved her purely, more, and forever.

Standing before Liv on the beach that has become our beach, she doesn’t back away. Her eyes aren’t on the man who conned her into this scene. They’re on me, confident that I finally have the guts to stand by her side and fight for us.

“Fuck off,” Mitch momentarily breaks free from his captors, but his growl doesn’t deter me. He’s lost his chance and any right to tell me what the fuck to do—especially when it comes to Liv.

I need only one hand to push him back, while the other cups Liv’s neck. She needs no encouragement to press her body into mine, her scantily clad, newly tanned body fitting perfectly against my tourist shorts and bare chest.

“Do you, Liv Woodgrove, take that asshole as your husband?”

Softly, she shakes her head as Mitch’s rent-a-crowd sniggers.

“I need to hear your words, to make it legal.”

“I do not wish to marry a lying, cheating, gambling asshole.”

“Am I a liar?”

“No.”

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