Page 81 of Castaway Whirlwind
“Same here, brother.”
Elliott disappears, and I turn to face the crowd when the folk band begins their instrumental rendition ofTil There’s Nothing Leftby Cam. My chin won’t stop quivering as I watch our wedding party step out of the white limousines hired to drive them to the end of the ivory aisle runner. Two by two, they make their way past the sea of seated guests: Cora and Trace, Goldie and Davis, Dolly and Wyatt, Faye and Harold, and lastly, Violet and Jared, all either smiling brilliantly or with tears in their eyes.
Finally, the last limousine pulls forward, and the band’s singer stands, motioning for our guests to rise as the band loops the song, and she begins with the first verse. I catch a sob with my hand over my mouth when Paul opens the back passenger door, reaches a hand inside, and helps my stunning bride out into the sunlight that doesn’t shine nearly as bright or golden as her.
Elliott bumps the door closed, and together, he and Paul walk my Layla down the aisle, her arms hooked around their elbows. My son, my woman, my brother—the three most important people in my life.
God, I’m a lucky man.
Finding it hard to breathe as my heart beats a faster rhythm, my tears flow freely. The only reason I remain standing on the wooden platform is that I don’t trust myself not to collapse into a heap if I were to leave it to meet her in the aisle.
Her. Layla. My darlin’. My beautiful present and future.
Chapter 26
Layla
Paul steadies me, taking the brunt of my weight when I find it too hard to keep my composure long enough to walk on my own in my high heels. I hold my eyes open wide behind my paper-thin veil so I won’t cry, though tears blur my vision as I move down the aisle toward my future.
Russell’s hand trembles as he reaches for me after I pass my bouquet to Violet, and he helps me onto the platform while Sheriff takes his position in a fine suit as our officiant.
“Russell,” I whisper with a whimper, swaying closer as the rising hot breeze licks my skin when he lifts my veil, flipping it over the ivory pearl headband holding my hair back from my face.
“Darlin’.” In the middle of Sheriff’s welcome remarks, as if he’s not in control of himself, Russell bends to kiss me, one large, rough palm cradling my face as if I’m the most precious jewel, gentle but possessive. “I love you. God, I love you so much.”
Clutching his side, I slide a hand over his beard, staring up at the man who has loved me beyond what I ever couldhave imagined for myself, his skin crinkling at the corners of his startling blue eyes as tears slip from them. I’ve never seen him truly cry, and it’s so special to me, this gift of naked vulnerability when I’m usually the most vulnerable one.
Russell gets choked up when he says, “I do,” after Sheriff asks if he will take me, Ladyanalayla Samarthaleigh Dorsey, to be his lawful wedded wife.
His chest heaves and he draws me closer when Sheriff asks if I will take Russell Lee Berenson to be my lawful wedded husband, and I raise my voice for all to hear when I proudly and emphatically vow, “I do.”
“I’ve wanted to hear those two words for so long. So long.” Russell doesn’t wait until we’re given permission to do so, dipping me backward as he did at the dance hall to slant his lips over mine as soon as we exchange wedding bands, sealing our lifetime commitment to each other with the kind of kiss that could bring me back to life if only to feel his lips on mine one more time.
* * *
Russell
Trace raises his glass, clinking mine before taking a sip of his vodka as the folk band singer belts out a boot-stomping original song. Couples crowd the dance hall that Violet converted into a gorgeous venue, each moving in a circle, doing the Texas Two Step to varying degrees of success.
A besotted smile splits Trace’s face while we watch Cora, cradling Gauge, dancing with Goldie, holding Lily, offto the side. Little William tugs on Goldie’s dress until she bends low enough for the toddler to place a slobbery kiss on Lily’s cheek that Goldie has to wipe off.
Davis scowls at Wyatt, who scoops up his son and carries him away after William topples over, trying to take Lily out of her mother’s arms. We laugh when William tries to wrestle out of his father’s hold, mean-mugging Wyatt when he’s set down with Wyatt’s huge mitt on William’s shoulder to keep him from running back toBaby Red, as he calls her.
Trace bumps my shoulder. “That was a beautiful ceremony, Dad. Really touching.”
I cough out my bourbon, yanking Elliott’s bandana from the inside pocket of my suit jacket to wipe my mouth and beard. “I am not your dad,” I say through a scratchy throat on fire from the alcohol.
Trace pounds my back unhelpfully. “Aw, come on. You’re going to be my father-in-law soon enough since I plan on popping the question next weekend. I’d do it today, but I don’t want to steal your thunder.”
“Unless you’re talking about proposing to Paul and not Cora, that wouldn’t make me your father-in-law.”
“Sure it does.”
Seriously questioning if Trace’s brain is firing on all cylinders, I check his pupils for drug-induced dilation. Finding none, I ask, “How?”
“Gauge is Layla’s nephew, which makes Cora her sister, which makes Layla my sister, and she calls you ‘Daddy’. Super kinky, by the way. Didn’t know you had it in you. Cora called me ‘Daddy’ once when we were getting freaky in Little T, but then she gagged really hard—which, by the way, felt awesome. You and Layla should try it.”
“For F’s sake.” I set my glass on a nearby table and move away, searching the crowd for my wife.
