Page 156 of Risks of Temptation
The backyard is decorated with candles. It's a perfect night. Darkness sets in. The clear sky is full of stars, and the moon is full. A catering team of three and the officiant are the only people around. The head chef will serve as our witness.
I nervously wait until the team of women come down the stairs and leave. I go up to the bedroom, and my heart soars when I see her.
Ma belle is in a fitted, white lace, backless gown with long sleeves. Her makeup is light, showing off her stunning features. Her long hair flows in natural waves.
I step in front of her. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen, ma belle."
She puts her hand on my cheek. "And you are the most handsome man I have ever seen."
I kneel in front of her and take her hand. Her eyes glisten. "You are the sun and moon wrapped in sugar. Brightness. Sweetness. Innocence and sophistication swirled together. When we were in Belize, I knew I wanted you to be my wife, to stand next to me as my equal and nothing less. If you agree to become my wife, I will worship and protect you until I die. Ma belle, will you marry me?"
A tear drips down her cheeks. She bends and kisses me on the lips. "Yes. The only thing I've ever wanted in my life is you."
"And I you." I slide her ring on her finger and rise. "Ma belle, it's not too late. Are you sure you don't want to get married with your sister or anyone else present?"
"No. I just want us." Her voice is adamant and full of love.
"Then let's go downstairs and get married."
She kisses me again.
"I think you're supposed to save that," I tease her.
She laughs.
We go outside and, under the moon and stars, profess our love forever. In French, we vow only to be each other's equals, to love for eternity, and to never let our adoration falter.
"You may kiss your bride," the officiant says.
No kiss has ever been sweeter, or deeper, or made me happier. And the look on ma belle's face, I'll never forget it.
When dinner is served, everyone leaves the house. Soft music plays through the surround sound. We dance and make love under the night sky. Everything, for once, feels perfect.
We both know it can't last forever, but we hold on to it. We don't go inside until the sun has risen the next day.
The dark night sky lightens when we finally fall asleep, still in the backyard. When I wake up, ma belle is stroking my hair, smiling. In French, she says, "Good morning, my husband."
I've never been happier. The look on her face tells me she, too, feels the same.
Perfection exists in us. But only together.
