Page 45 of Dibs
“I mean it. Really, really…wow. You look, well…Deacon’s a damn lucky man!” Steele shakes his head. “You look lovely.”
I blush. “You should see my shoes. They make my calves look hot. Here, stand there a second.” I disappear back into my closet, slip on the expensive heels, and add a cream-colored faux fur cropped vest with leather fringe to give a Boho look. I peer into the mirror, loving the classy lace and leather look, and I walk back to the bathroom and give Steele a little twirl.
“You’re just missing one thing. I set it on the bed. One sec.” He reappears with a dainty white and blue flower crown.
I take the circle of flowers in my hands and try not to get teary as I carefully place it on my head and adjust it, so it fits just right. I add a few bobby pins to keep it in place and then apply a final coat of lipstick to my quivering lips. I press them together and sigh, unable to believe today is the day I become Deacon Ambrose’s wife.
“It’s perfect,” Steele announces. “I’m so glad Deacon finally gets to be your husband. I won’t lie and say I don’t wish Momwere here to see it, because she would be so happy for you, but I’m glad you let me in on your little secret. How are you going to keep this one hidden?”
I snort. “Well, I’ll do the best I can, just until we can have a proper ceremony. I’ll start planning right away, aiming for spring. Where’s Deacon? Is he ready?” My heart flutters with excitement, and I rub my hands together to create friction. It’s a chilly day, and snow is expected later.
“Pacing like a crazy person waiting for you. He sent me here to check on you. You good walking in those heels?” Steele peers at me with concern. I laugh.
“I’m a woman. I was born with the ability to strut around in sky-high heels.”
We share a grin, but he takes my elbow and leads me out to the living room. Deacon is pacing but stops the second he sees me coming down the stairs. He looks the most handsome I’ve ever seen him, navy pin-striped suit hugging his sculpted chest, his bright blue eyes in awe as he focuses on me.
I step forward, set my hands on his chest, and then kiss him deeply, thankful for my Color Stay lipstick.
“You clean up nice, love,” I whisper against his lips.
“And you look like you stepped out of my wildest dreams.” Deacon slants his lips over mine, plundering my mouth with his tongue as I wrap him tighter in the circle of my arms. When we finally part, he asks me to wait a second, and then he goes into the bedroom and returns with three aquamarine bangle bracelets. “I thought these would look nice with the blue shoes.”
“Great taste. Obviously.” I motion at myself and roll my eyes before I slide the jeweled bangles onto my right wrist and then move my hand until they clang out a rhythm. I grab my blue leather bag, shaped like a rose, with a long silver chain, and place my phone, wallet, and lipstick inside.
“Well, shall we get married or what?” I walk to the door. Deacon runs to keep up with me and helps me up into his truck. Steele jumps in the backseat, and we drive ten minutes to City Hall.
Everything happens fast. The justice of the peace allows us to hook my phone up to a speaker, so I walk down the aisle to the perfectly timed chorus of one of my favorite songs. Deacon and I had agreed to take traditional vows, so I walk to him, stand beneath a wooden arch, and slide my hands into his.
Our eyes are transfixed on one another’s, and I can’t believe how lucky I am, how everything lined up perfectly in my past to get us here to this day. To this moment. I repeat the vows with my whole heart.
I’m marrying my best friend. My forever.
Not everyone gets to do that. Not everyone gets the fairytale, but me? I do. We do.
“As long as we both shall live,” I hear myself say through tears, in a bit of a haze. The ceremony is short, and we’d cut right to the good stuff while Steele recorded us from several feet away.
“Well, then, by the power vested in me by the state of Colorado, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your bride, Mr. Ambrose,” the justice of the peace tells Deacon.
He breaks into a face-splitting grin, grabs me, dips me, and brings me back up to his waiting mouth. I melt into his arms, joy and peace washing over me as we kiss deeply, a few too many seconds for the occasion.
“I love you, wife,” Deacon tells me tearfully, picking me right up off my heels and twirling me around several times with a disbelieving laugh.
“I love you, too. Husband.” I can’t believe how perfect it sounds rolling off my lips. “But you’ve gotta put me down, you’re making me dizzy!”
We both giggle as I try to slide my feet into my heels. Then, we embrace again, kissing until the older man beside us clears his throat and reminds us he has another wedding to conduct.
As we walk together out the front door of the building, holding hands, the skies open up and light snow swirls around us, but I hardly feel the cold.
We walk into the adjoining courtyard and pose for photos that Steele takes with his fancy camera. I feel lucky to have him with us today as our witness and photographer.
We again swear Steele to secrecy as we drive home, and Steele pecks me on the cheek, hugs his brother, and climbs into his SUV. Deacon must have been giving him a look that said, “Scram!” because as soon as Deacon shuts the front door, he unzips my dress and lets it pool at my feet.
“Hot tub?” Deacon holds out his hand for me to take. I love to sit in the hot tub while it snows, and he knows it. I agree. I yank down my blue thong. But he doesn’t let me get far before he kneels between my legs and plunges his tongue into my center. He stops just short of letting me come, picks me up, and then sets me gently down in the hot, bubbly water as he turns on a playlist that I’d watched him make this morning. Bruce Springsteen’s “Secret Garden” comes on. It’s our playlist, full of songs meaningful to both of us, ones that make us think of each other. I’d given him several titles when he’d quizzed me over coffee.
A few minutes later, I straddle Deacon and ask, “Ready to consummate this marriage, my love?”
I don’t get a chance to answer. Deacon silently thrusts up to join us together. I moan and move against him, leaning down to kiss him between groans and grunts. Deacon’s hands on my ass guide my movements, and he gives me long, slow strokes in and out that leave me dying for him. My body is superheated as hedrives me over the edge, feeling like a pool of mush as he comes hard and deep, crying my name and gasping out, “Wife!”
