Page 40 of Jingle Bell Flock
“It’s yours for as long as you need it,” I told him. “Forty-five minutes is close enough to come home for laundry and your Mom’s cooking, but far enough that you get your independence.”
“And privacy,” Gavin added as he rejoined us with a smirk.
I pointed at him. “I do not want to know.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, stifling a laugh.
My sister’s new husband found me a few minutes later, standing at the edge of the field, staring at the spot where Harrison and I would say our vows.
“Big moment,” Charlie said, coming to stand beside me.
“Yeah.”
“You ready?”
I looked at him, this man who’d become a friend to me over the past year, who’d welcomed me into his family without question. And who’d agreed to officiate our wedding without hesitation.
“I feel like I’ve been ready for a long fucking time,” I answered honestly.
Truth was, I would’ve dragged Harrison down to the justice of the peace the day after we said “I love you” and called itdone. But he deserved more than that. He deserved a ceremony, vows spoken out loud in front of our friends and loved ones, a celebration of what we were to each other.
Harrison had spent his whole young life here hiding. Who he loved. How he felt. What his father did to him behind closed doors.
But not today. Today, I was going to stand beside him in front of this entire town and make damn sure everyone knew exactly howIfelt abouthim.
“I know exactly what you mean.” Charlie clapped me on the shoulder. His gaze scanned the field beyond, presumably to find Jemma. “For the record, marrying folks is my favorite part of being mayor.”
“Even when it’s two stubborn idiots who took too long to get their shit together?”
“Especially then.”
The wedding was supposed to start at four o’clock on the dot, but at three forty, Harrison texted me.
Harrison
Meet me in your barn?
Jeremy
Isn’t it bad luck to see each other before the wedding?
Harrison
That only applies to brides.
Since we’re both grooms, we get off on a technicality.
I huffed out a laugh. Leave it to Harrison to find a loophole in wedding superstitions.
Jeremy
On my way.
I found him in the same place we’d hidden as teenagers, stealing kisses whenever we could. He was standing in a shaft of sunlight coming through a high window, and when he turned around, I forgot how to breathe.
He was wearing a sleek Tom Ford suit because, of course, he was. Perfectly tailored, extremely expensive, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine. But it was the color that got me—a green so deep it was almost black. My favorite color.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft.
