Page 36 of How to Say I Do
Wyatt slapped his hand over the side of his neck.
“Other side,” Liam drawled, holding out his fist for me to bump.
I knocked knuckles with Liam and drained my champagne.
The “thing” at one p.m. Liam had mentioned turned out to be a family spa day. Private hot tub soaks, couples massages, facials, mani/pedis for the girls, and a full afternoon of kids’ club activities for Jason: mini golf, suction-cup archery, and even a petting zoo with iguanas and parrots. Jason was over the moon to be dropped off, not even looking back to say “bye.” Savannah, too, was eager to get going, and she was already an anticipatory puddle of goo just walking through the spa’s doors.
“I hooked y’all up,” Liam said, winking at Wyatt. “See you later, gators.”
Before I’d come along, Liam had booked his brother for a solo afternoon soak and massage, but sometime between meeting me and this morning, Liam had changed Wyatt’s booking into a couples escape package, which meant Wyatt and I now had a two-hour soak in a candlelit hot tub followed by a two-hour couples massage. I could have kissed Liam, planted one right on his smart lips.
Now Wyatt and I were naked, drenched in the decadent scents of rose petals and jasmine, sandalwood and eucalyptus. We sprawled in the hot waters, me against Wyatt’s chest as Wyatt drew starfish and hearts and suns on my skin. I thought of those little crayon drawings in Wyatt’s journal, colored-in spirals with six stubby arms above green and purple vineyards. Wyatt drew the same sun on my arm, sense memory, an echo through time.
We had a fresh bottle of champagne and didn’t bother with glasses, instead pouring the bubbles right into each other’s mouths and licked up the spills. I rode his lap, grinding lazily against him as he nibbled on my neck. He sucked on my nipples, holding me in place as I squirmed against him, gasping and pleading for I didn’t know what. He could suck my soul away, obliterate me in this soaked darkness, and I’d float away. Happily.
Where was reality? The world was intangible and unknowable, slippery and boundary-less. Everything felt swollen with meaning, with promises and potential and glimpses of a life that Luis believed in and I could taste like champagne bubbles evaporating on the back of my tongue.
When we lay down for our massage, Wyatt held out his hand between our tables. I took it, and the two masseuses with us worked around how impossible it was for us to separate, even for that.
Candle smoke drifted in the shadows. Hibiscus played in my nose. When my eyes slipped open, Wyatt was smiling at me.
I needed something to wear to Liam and Savannah’s wedding, something better than a pair of board shorts and a t-shirt. Wyatt and I wandered to the gift shop after pouring ourselves out of the spa, empty of muscular tension, bodily anxieties, and thoughts longer than a syllable.
There were no slim-fit Saint Laurent’s or Dior button-downs available. I had to settle for another resort-branded tropical shirt, this time a cream ivory with big, bright birds plastered on the front. Even the small size was baggy on me. If we’d been in Manhattan, I would have needed several hours with a good tailor to make the shirt fit. Wyatt insisted it looked good, and his opinion was the only one that mattered.
Wyatt distracted me at the register—asking me to check and see if they had any coconut lip balm—and then paid for my shirt while I was poking through tubs of Chapstick. I glared at him, but he smiled and took my hand, and he led me out of the gift shop and to one of the private lanais, far away from anyone else and surrounded by walls of plumeria. Wyatt looked pink-cheeked and flustered, and his eyes kept skipping away.
He took a breath, and then—
He held out a ring between us, softly wiggling it back and forth as the sun caught on its edge. “It made me think of you.” His voice was barely audible.
The ring was a dark, glossy black, crafted from onyx or smooth polished wood, and gold-inlaid sea turtles drawn in geometric tribal designs marched around the circumference. Harry Winston it was not, but it was beautiful on its own, unique and startlingly poignant. I was suddenly back underwater with Wyatt, holding his hand as we silently followed a pair of sea turtles, Wyatt shielding me from the deep blue sea.
Wordlessly, I held out my left hand. A week ago, Jenna was supposed to slide a one-carat baguette-cut platinum wedding band onto my ring finger, and I was supposed to say “I do.” Now, Wyatt slid a $25 ring of sea turtles onto my middle finger and smiled when it fit snugly into place. “I had to guess your size.”
“It’s beautiful, Wyatt.”
If he turned any redder, he’d combust. “Now Luis won’t be wondering where your ring is.”
Since the resort was handling Liam and Savannah’s entire wedding, there was no need for a full rehearsal, but everyone still got together for a big pre-wedding dinner on the beach. Savannah’s parents joyfully toasted Liam and Savannah's years of shared happiness, their pride in their grandson, and the family’s blessed future to come. When it came time for Wyatt to speak, he struggled to find the words to express his profound love for Liam, Savannah, and Jason, but he managed to fumble through saying that the happiest memories of his life were when they all were together.
Liam winked at me after Wyatt finished. “The happiest memories so far.”
Then Liam turned serious. He and Savannah spoke together, starting by thanking Savannah’s parents and Trish for coming down to celebrate their wedding before they turned to Wyatt and—
I’d known this family for days I could count on one hand, but all it took was three seconds, and seeing how Liam’s carefree boisterousness and slapdash charm dissolved, to fully grasp the depths of their love for each other. Liam could barely get his words out, struggling to choke out his gratitude and awe at the nine years’ of sacrifice Wyatt had put up for him, Savannah, and Jason, and how, even now, Wyatt still wanted to put everyone else first in his life. Wyatt bowed his head as tears cascaded down his cheeks.
There weren’t enough words in the English language for Liam to explain how deeply he loved his brother, but his broken voice and their tightly-locked held hands said more than enough. Far, far more than enough.
After dinner, we got down to the dedicated drinking part of the evening, which Liam and Wyatt desperately needed. We passed around bottles of wine and pitchers of margaritas, and the band kicked off their nightly performance.
Wyatt and I danced to every song, sashaying and salsaing and rumbaing together like fools, until we were laughing ourselves silly and out of breath. We danced with Jason and did the Hokey Pokey, and then Wyatt and Liam tried to one-up each other on who could do the worse reenactment of horrible aughts dance moves.
The night faded into starlight, and when the slow songs came on, Wyatt cradled my hand and kissed my sea-turtles ring.
It seemed like, for that night, at least, everything that had happened was all meant to be because it had all led to this. To Wyatt, and to him and me dancing on this beach.
His arms around me felt like a dream. If it was, and if he was, then I never wanted to wake up.
