Tied (26 page)

“That means a lot, Dad,” I say gruffly. “Thank you for being the best example of what a father, a husband, is supposed to be.”

We pat each other’s back. Then he taps my biceps. “Now get up there before Kate changes her mind.”

I smirk. “Highly unlikely.”

He shrugs. “Better to be safe than sorry. I didn’t think your mother would try backing out, either.”

Haven’t heard that one before. “Mom balked at marrying you?”

He slaps my back again. “That’s a story for another day, Son. Go get yourself married—and enjoy every second of it.”

With that, he walks to the back of the church. I meet Matthew and Steven at the altar. “You got the rings?” I ask Matthew.

He taps his pocket. “Safe and sound.”

When the pianist begins playing the prelude—“Angels Watching” by the O’Neill Brothers—Steven announces, “That’s our cue.”

Matthew grins my way and imitates the Terminator: “I’ll be back.” They both walk down the side aisle to the back of the church.

I’m left standing alone. Waiting.

I nod to the watching guests. One hand rests at my side, the other is folded across my lower back. I inhale a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

The string quartet in the orchestra bay begins to play Canon in D by Pachelbel.

It’s game time.

The first to appear in the doorway are our parents. My father looks distinguished as he stands in the middle, my mother, wearing a plum gown, on one arm; Kate’s mother, in deep blue, is on the other. All three wear beaming smiles as they proceed down the aisle. Before my mother enters the pew, she blows me a kiss. She used to do the same thing when I was a kid, as I ran out the door to school—before I was old enough to ask her to stop.

I smile back at her meaningfully.

Next are my sister and Steven. Alexandra looks gorgeous in the strapless, burgundy bridesmaid gown Kate chose. An ivory shawl demurely covers her shoulders: her blond hair is pinned up and curled, not a strand out of place. Her arm rests comfortably, confidently, through Steven’s. They glance at each other and I just know they’re thinking of their own wedding. When they reach the altar, Steven kisses Lexi sweetly, then they part and stand on their respective sides.

Jack and Erin follow, arm in arm. Jack winks at a female guest as he strolls down the aisle and Erin smiles joyfully. Brightly. If you ever wanted a good example of how a no-strings-attached hookup should be done, Jack and Erin are it. No bad feelings, no awkwardness, just friendly, physical attraction.

After they reach the altar, it’s Matthew and Dee-Dee’s turn—the best man and matron of honor. Wearing the same gown as my sister—instead of one of the whacked-out ensembles she typically dresses in—Delores looks really good. She holds Matthew’s arm and sways her hips in time with the music, making him laugh at her silly exuberance. When they reach the altar, she looks me up and down—then gives me a thumbs-up.

I nod at her silent compliment.

Delores stands beside my sister, and Matthew takes his place to my left.

One more couple to go before Kate makes her entrance. This couple will steal the whole fucking show. I knew it, Kate knew it, and neither of us minded at all.

Mackenzie and James.

The flower girl and the ring bearer. The gold mine of every wedding photographer who ever worked.

Mackenzie’s dress is white lace with cap sleeves. Her long hair is pulled up at the sides with white daisies woven into the crown of blond braids. She’s old enough to be called beautiful but still enough of a kid to be called adorable. Her blue eyes shine as she waves to me from the end of the aisle.

I wave back.

She takes my son’s hand and together they make their way to me. James looks impressively lovable in his own custom Armani tux. He’s surprisingly well behaved—keeping pace with Mackenzie, holding his ring-bearer pillow straight, grinning for all the cameras taking their picture.

When they reach the altar, James drops Mackenzie’s hand, ditches his pillow, and runs straight to me. “Daddy!”

I scoop him up and look into his big, brown eyes.

“Is good?” he asks.

“You did great, buddy.” I kiss his temple. “Go sit with Grandma and Pop now, okay?”

“Otay.”

I set him down and my parents receive him into their pew.

Then I straighten up. The starting notes of the “Wedding March” fill the cathedral. All the guests stand and turn toward the closed double doors.

The wooden doors open. And the air rushes from my lungs.

Because she’s breathtaking. More stunning than I’d imagined—and my imagination is pretty fucking active.

Kate’s a vision in white—strapless, a sweetheart neckline with just a teasing taste of cleavage, fitted around the middle, accenting her tiny waist. Lace covers the delicate swell of her hips, flaring out behind her in a majestic train. An Irish-lace veil adorns her head, and her hair falls in shiny, dark waves beneath it. Her makeup is light, just enough to emphasize her flawless skin, full lips, and those big, dark eyes that captivated me the moment I saw them.

She swallows hard and gazes around the crowded cathedral, looking uneasy. Anxious. Until she sees me. At the altar—waiting for her.

She holds my eyes for a second, then slowly, surely, she smiles.

And it’s perfect.

My view of the world blurs, and I don’t give a shit if that sounds pussified. It’s true. And deserved. My chest tightens with tenderness, with the sanctity of this moment.

The music soars as Kate holds George’s arm, and he escorts her down the aisle. I can’t take my eyes off her, and her gaze never leaves my face. When they finally arrive, I shake George’s hand and he moves into the pew next to Carol.

Kate offers me her hand, and, as I did the first time we met, I bring it to my lips and kiss it reverently.

“You’re exquisite,” I tell her softly. “I . . . have no words.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “I guess there really is a first time for everything.”

It’s as if everyone else, the whole damn church, just fades away. And there’s only the two of us. I cup her cheek and smooth her lip with my thumb. Then I lean forward and kiss her—softly and slowly and brimming with feeling.

After a few seconds, Father Dougherty clears his throat. Loudly. “That part comes later, son.”

I end the kiss and turn to the priest, still holding Kate’s hand.

Kate blushes and the guests’ laughter echoes off the walls.

I clear my throat. “Sorry, Father. Patience has never really been my strong suit.”

“Well, in this case, I don’t blame you.” He focuses on Kate. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you, Father.” She passes her bouquet of white daisies and roses to Delores.

“Shall we get on with it, then?” Father Dougherty asks.

From the first row, James yells, “Ready, set, go!”

Again, laughter ripples through the congregation.

Father Dougherty says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The wedding ceremony proceeds without incident—the prayers, the readings, the lighting of the unity candle. Then the moment you’ve all been waiting for arrives.

Father Dougherty asks, “Andrew, do you promise to be true to Katherine in good times and bad, in sickness and health? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her until death do you part?”

In a clear voice, I pledge, “I sure do.”

Kate’s eyes hold mine and her smile is so bright—so true—as Father Dougherty asks her, “And do you, Katherine, promise to be true to Andrew in good times and bad, in sickness and health? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish him until death do you part?”

Tears well in her beautiful brown eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

It takes everything I’ve got not to pull her to me and kiss her again.

Matthew passes me the rings and Kate holds out her hand.
My throat tightens as I place her ring on her finger. “I give you this ring as a token of my love and devotion. I pledge to you all that I am, all I’ll ever be. With this ring, I marry you and join my life to yours.”

Kate holds my hand for an extra moment. Then, tears slip down her cheeks as she slides my own ring on my finger, saying in a voice choked with emotion, “I give you this ring as a token of my love and devotion. I pledge to you all that I am and all that I will ever be. With this ring, I gladly marry you and join my life to yours.”

Then Father Dougherty declares, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no man pull asunder. You may kiss your bride.”

Without hesitation, I sweep Kate up into my arms. She laughs and wraps her arms around my neck, and our mouths fuse hot and heavy. The kiss is long and thorough and totally inappropriate for church.

Applause and whistles erupt, the church bells ring, and the musicians belt out “Ode to Joy.”

Finally, reluctantly, I set Kate on her high-heeled feet and we walk down the aisle side by side.

Hand in hand.

Husband and wife.

We take a thousand fucking pictures, in a variety of locations and every conceivable combination. James holds up like a trouper—doesn’t
get cranky once. The photographer had to ask Kate and me to stop making out so we could smile for the camera. Apparently, my hand on her ass is
not
an acceptable pose for a wedding portrait.

But I think he’s just flat-out wrong about that.

Once we all pile into the limo, Matthew passes me a bottle of champagne. I pop the cork, spewing bubbles everywhere. Some splashes on my face, and Kate leans over and slowly licks it off.

Delores whistles.

“Mmm . . . ,” Kate hums to me. “Champagne tastes good on you, Mr. Evans.”

I laugh. “I can think of a few other spots it’ll taste even better, Mrs. Evans.”

She giggles. “Make sure we have a bottle in the honeymoon suite tonight, then.”

“Way ahead of you, baby.” Her body puts Waterford crystal to shame.

I fill glasses and pass them around the limo. Steven gives Mackenzie a sip from his, and her face scrunches up adorably with disgust.

James climbs onto his mother’s lap and rests his head against her chest.

Kate strokes his dark hair. “He’s not going to last.”

I take a drink from my glass. “The way you look in that dress? Neither am I.”

“I thought your favorite dress was the one I’m not wearing?”

“This one is the exception. Although, I should reserve judgment until I see you out of it.” I kiss her ear, then whisper into it, “After a long, exhaustive perusal . . . I’ll make my preference abundantly clear.”

She gazes at me tenderly, with soft adulation shining on her beautiful face. “I’m so happy, Drew.”

Mission accomplished.

“Me too.”

I stroke James’s back and pull Kate close with my free arm. She nuzzles my neck and rests her cheek against my collarbone. With our friends’ raucous laughter all around us, we savor the moment.

The limo pulls up to the Four Seasons, where our reception is being held. Matthew climbs out first, then helps Dee, who brings her glass of champagne with her. James, recharged after his mommy-cuddle, bounds out next, followed by Mackenzie, Alexandra, and Steven. When the driver offers his hand to Kate, I tip him and say, “I got this, thanks.”

Then I assist my wife out of the limousine.

My wife.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of thinking of her that way. I’m definitely gonna be looking for excuses to speak of her that way.

I escort her under the twinkling lighted archway into the building where we’ll celebrate our marital bliss. Though you and I both know the real celebration happens in the honeymoon suite.

Our group arrives at the well-appointed suite adjacent to the main ballroom, where the wedding party enjoys the cocktail hour away from the prying eyes of the guests—like rock stars in the greenroom. Lauren Laforet, our wedding planner, greets us, makes sure we’re good so far, then walks off dictating orders into a walkie-talkie to her minions. Delores and Alexandra have Kate stand to “bustle” the back of her dress, so she can dance without getting stepped on and falling on her face.

I don’t know what the “bustle” entails, but by the look of concentration on their faces—I don’t want any part of it. I
head over to the buffet and pile hors d’oeuvres onto a plate for Kate.

Gotta keep her strength up for later.

While she stands, I feed her piece by piece. I’m guessing she didn’t eat this morning because she moans and sighs with each mouthwatering bite. Or maybe she just likes sucking on my fingers—’cause she does that too.

With a knowing smirk, Kate asks me, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

My semistiff dick nods. “Immensely.” I slide a small, bacon-wrapped scallop between her lips, and her tongue swirls around my finger.

“So am I.”

Called it.
“Suck it harder,” I tell her—only half joking.

She obliges.

When I reach for another piece, Kate says, “Now, where have I heard that before?”

“Get used to hearing it more. There’s a good chance it’ll be my mantra for the next three weeks.”

“Hello,” Alexandra calls from where she’s crouched behind Kate. “We can hear you. And . . . ewwww.”