Page 118 of Hearts Aweigh
“Impossible.” He squeezed her in a hug and pulled her up so her feet dangled against his legs. His cheek settled on top of her head.
Rational thought dissolved, but Abby made one last, futile attempt. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a sore neck whenever you kiss your wife?”
He leaned back with a wolfish grin. “We’ll keep a step stool in every room.”
And then he proceeded to demonstrate how well he could do without one.
“Daddy, what are you doing?”
Abby dropped to earth with a thud. She and Spencer sprang apart and looked at Maddie, who stood at the bottom of the steps in her pajamas. Her wide eyes stared.
Abby wanted to race from the room and keep going till her feet hit water, but Spencer took her by the hand.
“I have a question, Madeleine. How would you like to be our flower girl when I marry Abby?”
Talk about blunt. Did he have to launch right into it without a buildup? What if Maddie didn’t like the idea?
But Maddie didn’t give a big reaction. Instead, she remained where she was. “What’s a flower girl?” she asked
“What’s a—?” Spencer scratched his head. “Well, you’ll carry a basket with flowers and stand with us while we get married.”
“Will there be a lot of people there?”
“No, sweetie.” Abby rushed to kneel in front of her. “Just a few people you already know. Are you okay with that?”
“I guess so.” Maddie blinked.
Spencer joined them and hunkered down. “We’ll have a short wedding in the chapel. Grandma Daisy will be there. You’ll get to wear a pretty dress, and”—he seemed to be scrambling for the right words—“and eat a big, fancy cake when we’re done.”
“Cake?” Maddie’s face brightened. “Yay! Can we get married tomorrow?”
He laughed. “Oh, Maddie. I love you.” Spencer drew his daughter into a hug. “Yes, we can get married tomorrow.”
The butterflies were back. They dive-bombed from Abby’s stomach to her toes and shot straight to her brain, where they drove out every thought but one.
She was finally getting married.
Tomorrow.
CHAPTER 58
“DEARLY BELOVED, WE ARE GATHEREDhere in the sight of God—”
Emily’s smile stretched across her face like someone had fastened it to her ears with clothespins. The corners of her lips ached from holding the unfamiliar visage in place. This wasn’t her normal smile. This was the painted mask of a clown who had no idea what was going on.
Abby and Spencer stood at the chapel’s altar. Late-afternoon sunshine gleamed through the stained-glass windows on either side of the new honorary chaplain conducting the ceremony. He was from Dubuque, enjoying a free cruise in exchange for performing a few temporary duties on the MSBuckingham.
Madeleine stood between the couple, wearing one of her lacy pink dresses and holding a beribboned basket. Rose petals spilled as she sashayed back and forth. Her grandmother had styled her hair.
The bride was clad in a cream silky sheath, purchased from the ship’s boutique. Her fiery curls were piled atop her head in a sophisticated bun. Spencer sported one of his many suits and a happy grin that outdid any Emily had ever seen him use.
She fidgeted as the minister finished his lengthy opening remarks. Mr. Dubuque was a wordy one. Emily drummed her fingers against her aching knee. She should be ecstatic. Neverin their entire Shipper record had they matched and married a couple in three weeks. It was unprecedented.
But something was wrong.
She looked to her left. Her three comrades sat in a row with equally counterfeit expressions on their faces. Emily squirmed on the pew. It wasn’t that she doubted the couple’s sincerity. A whirlwind romance was entirely possible. Her own dear husband had asked her to marry him two weeks after they met.
“Will you please join hands?” the minister asked the bride and groom.
