Page 128 of The Lies I've Told
“Wasn’t that your sister I saw across the street at the ice cream shop?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “But she’ll understand. Now, go lock that door. And hurry.”
“Okay.” A wicked grin spread across his face.
With his return, he’d brought the other half of my heart with him, and I finally felt whole again. I knew what challenges lay ahead for us, but together, I knew we could face anything.
As long as we had each other.
One Year Later
“Did you look at those bridal magazines I bought for you?” Molly asked as we took our seats.
I shook my head, making a sour face. “No, not even a little.”
“Millie! How am I supposed to be your matron of honor if you won’t even help me plan the wedding?”
I looked up at the stage, the sparkling blue water setting the perfect backdrop, as Aiden and several other members of the town congregated before the ceremony.
My sister nudged me. “I mean, you won’t even share with me the proposal story! The least you could do is let me do my job.”
I turned, slightly annoyed. “Okay, first of all, sometimes things are too personal to share—”
“He proposed during sex, didn’t he?”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile as the memory of Aiden’s head buried between my legs came back to mind.
Oh, boy, did he.
“Like I said, some things are too personal to share. And, secondly, I never made you matron of anything!”
She made a whiny sound, something I was sure she’d picked up from her toddler. “Oh, come on, I want to plan a big wedding. Everyone wants a big wedding!”
I huffed. “No, not true. Because I don’t.”
“Will you just take a look—”
“Molly, I did. And you know what I saw. A bunch of stuff I don’t need. A giant, over-the-top dress my husband wouldn’t even be able to see. An elaborate cake that would be demolished ten seconds after we cut it—that my husband also wouldn’t be able to see.”
“Millie, I’m—”
I smiled, taking her hand. “I’m not saying this to make you feel sorry, Molly. I’m just trying to make you understand. All I want to do is marry that man up there. And it could be in a courthouse—”
“No, that’s not acceptable.”
“Or,” I continued, “in a backyard. I honestly don’t care. I just want to be his wife.”
She smiled. “Well then, set a date.”
I smiled to myself. “You’ll be the first to know. Now, shut up. I think they’re starting.”
“There are a lot more people here than last time,” she whispered as we both took a look around.
I hadn’t been to the first memorial dedication in Ocracoke, but it was clear to even me that the area around the ferry terminal was loaded. Highway 12 was packed with cars, parked on either side as far back as I could see.
And the media had come out.
I was glad I wasn’t the one up there speaking.
