Page 131 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad
Julia
The bouquet slips from my nerveless fingers. He swoops down and grabs it before it can hit the floor. A ripple runs through the crowd. Yeah, talk about unorthodox weddings, huh? Other than the fact that I am dressed like Axl Roses’ freakin’ bride from November Rain, and that Damian has changed into a tux—sans tie—and fitted dress slacks, complete with pointed Italian loafers and a blue handkerchief tucked in his left breast pocket, which means that he looks like James Bond—Daniel Craig not Pierce Brosnan—with that hard jaw, mean lips and piercing blue gaze of his, which had eaten me up from the moment he’d turned and stared straight at me.
For a second there, his entire body had tensed, his features had taken on an expression of... Shock? Lust? Need? Ha, I must have been dreaming. Damian f’ing Savage would never need anything from me. No, he’d demand and simply take; and I’d let him. When it comes to the rock star, I can’t say no, and hell, if that isn’t the reason I am standing here, even after that cryptic statement of his:Nothin’ lasts forever.Does he mean us? This marriage, this relationship that never was? I open my mouth to ask, when he shakes his head.
"But—" I protest and he turns and hands the bouquet over to Isla, who steps up to take it. She moves away, and Damian faces forward. I clasp my fingers together, follow his lead to face Edward.
He glances between us, then gestures to the crowd behind us, who subside.
"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Damian Savage and Julia Child Andrews.
I cringe. Yep, not making that up. That really is my middle name, and now you know who my mother’s hero was—a travesty, considering I can’t cook… Unless you count baking clay a form of cooking, which, coming to think of it, it is.
"I believe the couple would prefer to recite their vows to each other directly, instead of having me officiate?"
We would?Eyes wide, I stare at Edward, then shoot a sideways glance at Damian who nods.
"Why didn’t you warn me?" I hiss at the rock star, who curls his lips.
"You didn’t ask."
"You could have told me," I whisper-scream.
"You’re the one with all the answers." He turns to me, "I am sure you’ll think of something. Meanwhile..."
"Meanwhile?" I mirror his stance. "What’s happening, meanwhile?"
"Meanwhile, I say my vows, of course." He smiles.
"Vows?"
His grin widens. He holds out his hand, palm face up. "Take it," he coaxes me.
I glance down at his hand, then up at his face, "Is this a joke?"
"I’ve never been more serious." His features grow intense and his gaze narrows. He jerks his chin, and damn it, but I can’t refuse him. I place my hand in his.
His warm fingers dwarf mine. He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand and my pulse rate ratchets up. His lips curl and I know he’s aware of exactly how his proximity affects me. Jerk. I try to pull my arm away and he curls his fingers around my hand, holding me in place.
Then he pulls out a piece of white ribbon from his pocket.
Huh?
He proceeds to wrap the ribbon around our joined hands, once, twice, thrice, then he raises his gaze back to mine, "You changed my life from the moment I met you. When I look into your eyes, I see my future. All I want is to hold you and protect you through sickness and sorrow, through happiness and life’s challenges. I promise to always take care of you, to be there for you when you need me, and when you don’t, I promise not to be an ass."
The audience laughs.
"I promise to cherish you and shield you, and walk by your side through life’s ups and downs. Say you’ll be mine, Julia. Only mine."
I stare up into those piercing blue eyes; the darkness in his irises deepens with an intensity that’s so palpable, my knees tremble. The heat of his big body reaches out to me, envelops me in a warm embrace—solid, dependable. In that moment, I believe his words, the honesty that thrums in the space between us. The vibration of something powerful, something bigger than either of us, grips me. I curl my fingers about his hand, or as much as I can reach of his broad palm.
"I will," I whisper, and his features seem to take on an expression of relief. Huh? Did he think I would refuse him and flounce off? If he only knew. "I promise to walk by your side through the good days and the bad, through ups and downs. When things get tough, there’s no one else I’d rather turn to than you. When the moments of celebration arrive, there’s no one else I’d rather rejoice with than you. When my spirits nose dive, and that happens quite often, I warn you—"
There’s a titter from the assembled women.
"—there’s no one else I’d rather have to cheer me up than you." I swallow, place my other hand over our joined palms, "for, I love you."
His throat moves as he swallows.
