Page 33 of Husband Material
My hand gripped a handful of her gorgeous ass and squeezed. "Yeah, yeah, Frenchy."
Although, she was right. Only sixty guests consisting of our families and close friends had attended the small, intimate ceremony. Reese and Gray, Reid, Reeve, Paul and Isa, who were still trying to work out where their crazy relationship was headed, Giselle's friend Brynne, who'd lived with her family in Paris as an exchange student, came out from Vegas with her husband, a handful of Giselle's local artist friends (including Nora, previously known as Old Bat Art Lady) and a few of our neighbors joined us for our ceremony on Folly Beach. Yes, we’d said our vows where we'd first met, and it was exactly how we wanted it to be. Our wedding cake was vanilla strawberry (my clever suggestion) and there was still some leftover in the freezer.
We were still recovering from the party, then we’d slowly pack and get ready to leave for our honeymoon in Cannes next week. Giselle had been the one to suggest we have a break between the wedding and the honeymoon, and she was right...of course. Racing through life never gave you more time. My wife was very wise about how we lived our life. So much wiser than her years. She was an old soul in a new body.
My fingers settled on the messy knot of her hair and caressed the silkiness. "A little sparrow told me that there's something buried for you on this beach somewhere."
Giselle tossed a glare at her wrist. This was an ongoing joke between us that her sparrow tattoo liked to tell me secrets more than her. She sighed. "That ungrateful sparrow never tells me anything."
Nevertheless, she got to her feet and started walking around, peering down at the sand for clues, digging her toes in places.
"Do I get any sort of hints?" she called over her shoulder.
"You get one stick of a hint," I called back.
Giselle stopped at the place in the sand where a long stick was jutting out and grinned over at me. "But how am I supposed to—"
I tossed a child's plastic pink shovel her way which she neatly caught, just as I'd known she would.
"I really have to earn this gift, no?"
Propping myself on one arm, I said nothing, just winked. I could hardly wait for the magic moment when she found it.
It only took a minute or so of gritty digging before Giselle paused. "A chest?"
Getting up, I went to sit beside her as she lifted it out. "Yeah, you like chests, don't you?"
She gave me a light elbow nudge before returning her attention to the chest. "It is beautiful."
It had taken me a few days of stealth antique hunting before I found one that fit the bill. Old looking, but not so grimy you wouldn't want to touch it. Like some impressively preserved piece you might find at the bottom of the ocean that had belonged to some old pirate captain. That was another thing I'd learned about Giselle in the past few months: one of her childhood dreams, adorably, was to own a pirate ship—but to be agoodpirate, as she'd taken great pains to stress to me.
"Maybe it's only an old chest with nothing inside it," I teased.
"Onlya chest. We'll see about—"
She opened the lid. "Ohhh," she breathed as she gathered up the green fabric in her hands and pulled it to her chest lovingly. Then she stood and let it flow down as a deep sigh spilled from of her trembling lips.
"Gage, you didn't."
"I totally did." I grinned at my wife feeling quite impressed with myself.
In her hands was the insanely expensive crochet dress in a soft green we'd stumbled on in a local artisan shop downtown. The intricate twines of the crochet had been carefully handcrafted with extra-fine detailing. And though Giselle would never justify such a cost for a dress no matter how much she loved it, I had no problem whatsoever with the price. Surprising her with something perfect I'd found for her was my prerogative as her husband—as I'd told her many times.
"Don't make me wait too long," I called to her. "Let's see it on you."
Holding the dress to her body, eyes tearing up, she turned away and started to put it on over her bikini. This was another of her adorable traits. Even though we were husband and wife and I'd seen her cry at least four times now, she still hated being seen with tears in her eyes. Apparently insulting her whenever she cried had been another one of Henri's many cruel habits.
I sighed. Yes, it would take probably a lifetime for Giselle's scars regarding her ex to heal, but I was more than up to the task of helping her with that. Every time I woke up next to her, I thanked God for sending her to find me. That's what I believed, so it became my truth. She had been sent from heaven or somewhere to find me…and save me.To be mine. Forever.
When she returned, my jaw literally dropped. Mind. Completely. Blown.
The crochet dress looked like it had been constructed with her body in mind. The placement of every finely woven hole was perfection incarnate my fingers itched to sink into.
She cocked her hip. "What do you think?"
"Crochet isdefinitelyyour thing."
"You think?" she asked, all arched-brow innocence.
