Page 109 of Sexy as Sin
He was sliding something onto her finger. A ring with absolutely no tiny diamonds around the edge of the solitaire to make it look bigger, because it didn’t need any. Which, maybe, she shouldn’t have noticed, but she did anyway. The stone was round and perfect, and it sparkled with white light, shining like one of those stars. Like Sirius, radiating the kind of love and loyalty that would last forever. Two pear-shaped stones nestled on either side of it like, just maybe, more people in your life to love. Little people who belonged to both of you, people Brett could hold and guide and love with all his strength and solidity.
They’d have to talk about that, too. Later.
“I think...” he said, and she waited for it. “I think we should plan to come here as often as you need to do it, and as often as you need to surf. I can be flexible, but one thing’s for sure. I need someplace to be home, and I need you there with me. I also think,” he said with a smile that lit up his eyes, “that we should plan for me to go first, in the end. That sounds a whole lot better.”
She tugged him upright again, ignoring her ribs. What were ribs? Bones that would heal, with enough attention and enough love. “It doesn’t sound better to me, though,” she said. “But I reckon we’ll negotiate.”
Brett stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby of the Portland building, for once pulling a suitcase behind him.
It wasn’t that he didn’t have any suits in the house in Byron Bay. It was just that he didn’t have therightsuit. The new one, in deep navy, and the tie, in blue as well but with touches of gold, because Willow had gone with gold in her colors. With Azra’s help, of course. Brett knew that, although he didn’t know everything. She’d wanted to surprise him.
That was fine. He wanted to surprise her, too.
The security guard sprang for the door, exposing himself to the blowing October rain as Brett headed across the limestone-tiled lobby. The man’s brown hair was neat, and so was his blue uniform. Brett told him, “I’m headed out again, Jim,” even though it was obvious. “You could keep an eye on the place for the next few weeks, if you don’t mind. I’m off to Australia to get married.”
Did he sound like a kid who couldn’t wait for Christmas? You bet he did. Too bad.
Jim’s face split into a grin. “Well, hell. Congratulations, man.” He stuck out a hand, and Brett shook it.
“At least I know you approve of my choice,” Brett said. “Though you probably still think she can do better, and you’re right. But I’ll do my best not to be an asshole.”
Jim snorted, which made Brett laugh again. “I think I knew your choice a while ago. Where’s the honeymoon?”
“Morocco. Land of history and legend.”
“Oh.” Jim considered that, his expression defining “dubious,” then said, “I guess so, man. I spent some time in the desert myself. I didn’t enjoy it.”
Brett laughed. He was doing a lot of laughing lately. “You sound like my future almost-father-in-law. Also various other future in-laws. Never mind. What the lady wants.”
“You got that right,” Jim said, and Brett headed out into the storm, climbed into the back of a car, and headed to the airport to meet the plane that had picked up most of his family and half of Willow’s, ready to start the next leg of the journey. Which, yes, was in a chartered jet this time. He had a lot of people to bring with him. His, hers, and theirs.
He’d told Willow, back in April, “I don’t want to wait to do this. Do you want to wait? Tell me this isn’t one of those eighteen-month deals. I’ve waited long enough for you.”
She laughed. “It’s been about two months.”
“Like I said. Long enough.”
“October, then,” she said. “If we do it on a Thursday, we can get the date. Nobody gets married on a Thursday. Meanwhile, I’ll do my best to help Amanda transition while I work out my next steps. I’ll come back and do my surfer beach-party wedding in October, though, because I want to, and I promised. That way, Amanda can have the credit and the push. It can be my last hurrah. After that?” She kissed him. Easy to do, since she was in his lap at the time. “I’ll take a week off to get bloody nervous about the whole thing, and to have whatever mad beauty rituals done to me that Azra will tell me are critical, unless I want you to leave me at the altar in disgust. AndthenI’ll marry you.”
“A whole week?” he said. “Wow. We’re living large. I think women usually devote more time to this deal.”
“You forget that I know something about weddings. You make a plan, you find your venue and your vendors and somebody to manage the whole thing, and then you get out of the bloody way until it’s time to turn up. Besides, how much time areyoutaking off?”
“Uh...” He grinned. “Three days? If you’re working? Three days. And then three weeks, while we start this thing for real. Why take time off unless I’m spending it with you? Other than going hunting. How’s this? I’ll go hunting with Steve and his dad, and then they can both come watch me get married. Yeah. That’s a plan.”
Now, looking out at the rain-streaked, gray streets of Portland, he wished he’d taken a little more time. Never mind. You could always start again.
He’d told Willow, months ago, “You can have whatever you want. I just want three things. Don’t wear a veil, and put your hair up, because I have a vision. And I want the first dance.”
The Customs House glowed a rich cream against the blue Brisbane sky, its green copper dome shining in the spring sunlight, as Willow stepped from the Batmobile with Azra beside her and Dave holding the door.
“Thanks for the lift,” she told Dave. “See you in there.”
“No worries,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She touched her hair lightly, and Azra slapped her hand away and said, “Don’t fuss with it. I just got it perfect. Come on,” then led the way to the side door where Aunt Fiona was standing, looking like a queen in a burgundy silk sheath.
“You’re lovely, darling,” Aunt Fiona said, taking her shoulders. “Oh, my. What’s that hairpiece?”
