He considered. “They’re bad men, Soph. I’m so relieved they can’t hurt people anymore.” He sighed. “But I was a fool to think I could take this on and not bring danger to you and Ben. You don’t know how sorry I am.” He remembered the feel of warm blood pooling in his mouth as he sat tied to the chair, stabs of pain with every breath…“I thought I would die, and all I could think about was you.”
She blushed.
“
You’re
what’s most important in my life—not some stupid job. I promise I’m done with the FBI, okay?”
“Oh, thank you.” She looked to the ceiling, seeming to battle more tears.
An image of Andrei’s fist flying toward his nose assailed him, and he fought to breathe. But Dr. Hayes’s advice for handling flashbacks helped calm him.
“It’s interesting, facing your death,” he said once his chest relaxed. “It makes you think.” She met his eyes. “Sophie, life is short. We can’t let anything stop us from reaching our dreams. We have to keep fighting for our dreams.”
Her forehead creased as she listened.
“And my biggest dream is marrying you.”
She smiled as she cradled his head in her hands. “That’s my dream too. You’ve got three months for those bruises to heal, McSailor. And they
better
heal before the wedding photos, ’cause I’m only marrying you for your good looks.”
Ignoring the pain in his face, he grinned.
25. Consummate
S
OPHIE
B
RUSHED
H
ER
H
AND
down her wedding gown, then tugged and straightened the delicate material. The lively notes of Pachelbel’s Canon floated from the sanctuary into the narthex, sparking a pulse of excitement in her belly.
This is happening
. She tried to hold her head up high.
In her deep purple bridesmaid gown, Anita looked back and gave her a thumbs-up before she turned to walk down the aisle.
“You look amazing,” her father whispered in her ear.
Clutching his elbow, she turned to him and smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”
“
Almost
as pretty as your mother on our wedding day.”
She elbowed him, and he laughed.
Tanya swiveled to wink at her before she began her slow walk down the aisle. Her tall colleague looked regal in her flowing gown. Then only Kirsten remained in the narthex with Sophie and her father.
“If Mom were here,” said Sophie, “she’d be on the other side of me to walk me down the aisle.”
“Huh?” Lines creased her father’s forehead. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work. The
father
gives the daughter away.”
“Do you know where that tradition comes from, Dad? It’s from a time when women were men’s
property
. The father literally gave his daughter away to the next man who owned her: her husband. I don’t want to support that patriarchal misogyny.”
“Oh, Lord.” He shook his head. “I know you’re seeing therapy clients again, but could you please stop the insufferable women’s libber psychobabble for one day?”
A giggle escaped. She’d missed his cranky complaints.
“Your new husband will want to return his property right quick if you keep that up.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured as he nodded ahead. “You can tell
Grant
will never give you up. Check out the way he’s looking at you.”
She realized Kirsten had already started down, and the white aisle runner now extended before her. Her eyes drifted from the beaded straps on the back of Kirsten’s gown to the front of the church. Standing to the right of the altar was a handsome hunk of sailor decked out in his dress whites.
I’m
so
glad he’s back in the Navy
. His khaki uniform was sexy enough, but his whites?
Have mercy
. Sliding up the gold buttons on his chest, her gaze locked onto his. His eyes lit up with joy, filling her with their kindness and love. She suddenly wanted to cry.
How cliché.
“He loves you—it’s clear.” Her father squeezed her elbow. “And I love you. Are you ready?”
The lighting dimmed as the church organist and violinist flowed into Thais’ “Meditation Act II.” Then the entire congregation was on its feet, staring at her with expectation. The enormity of it all made it hard to breathe. Her heart galloped, and her hands trembled, shaking her jasmine bouquet as everyone waited for her to take the first step. Then she found Grant’s eyes…and she gulped a big breath. He smiled at her, and his slight nod released her from her anxiety. What was there to fear? They would face any challenge together now.
The aching beauty of the violin accompanied her first slow step. Her father stayed at her side, supporting her like he now knew how to do. She kept her eyes glued on McSailor as her father propelled them forward, one step at a time.
Uncle Joe smiled next to Grant in his more decorated uniform, and standing next to the best man were the groomsmen, Ben and Roger, both dressed in handsome tuxes. Ben grinned at her while Roger wore a stoic expression. He seemed to be trying to appear taller with his chin in the air.
Her eyes returned to Grant, who drew her toward him with the force of his love. She blinked as fast as she could to keep the tears at bay. The guests in the pews were a blur of faces until she made it to the front rows and heard, “Way to go, Taylor.”
Sophie looked over to find Jerry wearing a faint smile. Marilyn leaned around him. “You’re beautiful. We’re proud of you.”
A tear leaked down her cheek as she nodded. Thank God Kirsten had insisted on waterproof mascara. Suddenly she was mere feet from Grant, and she paused as Pastor Tom said, “Knowing that your love and your choice to be life-long partners stems from God’s will and the blessings of your families, who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“Her mother and I do,” her father said in a clear voice. Then he pressed a kiss to her cheek and drew her hand into Grant’s. More tears spilled over her cheeks as she watched him nod at Grant.
She’d have to find her father a partner of his own one day. If Roger could get a girlfriend,
anyone
could.
Grant’s warm hand led her a few steps forward, and he wiped her cheek before he clasped her other hand. “Happy tears?” he whispered.
“
Delighted
tears,” she whispered back. She felt her gown lift and peeked over her shoulder to see Kirsten fluffing the train of her dress, letting it swirl toward the pews in an elegant arc.
Good maid
. She smirked as she remembered Kirsten’s laugh every time she’d referred to her as “maid” in the past month.
“Sophie and Grant,” Pastor Tom began, “today you enter as individuals, but you will leave here as wife and husband. You will blend your lives, expand your family ties, and embark upon the grandest adventure of human relations. The story of your life together is still yours to write. All those present have come to witness and celebrate your love and commitment this day—eager to share the part of the story not yet told.”
The pastor’s words continued, but she focused on Grant. His warm, steady hold on her hands…his masculine scent of bergamot and sandalwood…his freshly shaved olive skin. The bones had mended, the bruises faded, and his shining eyes revealed his emotional healing too. He had a sense of confidence and peace she’d never seen before.
Oh, time for a reading
. As Ashley skirted behind Roger and up a few stairs to a side pulpit, Sophie admired her lavender dress and her happy smile. How different her expression was from the time she’d done a reading at Logan’s funeral. Sophie glanced at Ben and waited until his eyes met hers. He stared at her a moment before he looked down at his polished black shoes. He was thinking of Logan as well, she knew.
After Ashley returned to her seat, Hunter made his way to the pulpit. She hid a smile and looked at Grant, who smirked back. They’d first had to cajole Hunter to attend their wedding, overcoming his concerns about compromising their confidentiality. But that was nothing compared to his reluctance to do a reading. After much begging on her part, he’d thrown up his arms and told her he’d do it,
damn it
, but he’d choose his own reading. She felt a flash of curiosity as he began to read:
“Sophie and Grant, you stand here right now
Aware of each breath, each tear, each laugh
Seek within yourselves
Courage to keep going
Communication to speak truth
And acceptance of what’s real
Live mindfully in each moment
As you experience and share
The journey to beauty and love.”
Grant squeezed her hands as Hunter’s words reverberated. She silently vowed to communicate better on the journey ahead of them.
They turned to face Pastor Tom, who shared with them his own words of wisdom. It felt heady to be married in front of the altar, and she hoped she wouldn’t let God down. “And now it’s time for the exchange of vows,” the pastor said.
She blinked.
Already?
The ceremony had flown by, and she’d wanted to be completely present for every moment—every second of her new life with Grant. They joined their hands together again, and she looked into his eyes as Pastor Tom asked:
“Do you, Sophie, choose Grant to be your partner in life, to support and respect him in his successes and failures, to care for him in sickness and in health, to envelop him in Godly grace and love, to nurture him, and to grow with him throughout the seasons of your life together?”
Yes, yes, yes, McSailor!
she wanted to shout. Instead she got out a shaky “I do” before she started crying again.
Grant chuckled, low and deep.
She barely heard Pastor Tom ask him the same question, but she definitely honed in on his smooth, sexy voice as he answered, “I do.” Right away he leaned toward her ear and whispered, “I love you, Bonnie.”
They were married!
When his warm breath left her cheek as he straightened, she smirked at him. “I love
you
, McHusband.”
***
Roger was the first guest Grant noticed as he and Sophie boarded the Eaton Tours ship for the wedding reception. “’Bout time you two got here!” he boomed, unthreading the rope from the cleat.
“Let me help you with that, sir,” Grant said, stepping forward.
“Nonsense.” Roger stood, and the ship floated a few feet from the dock. “Wouldn’t want to dirty your prissy whites, Lieutenant.”
“Well, you’re in a
tux
,” Sophie observed.
Roger glanced down as he brushed off his lapel. “And looking damn fine, if I say so myself. So why were you two so late? All your guests arrived twenty minutes ago.” He nodded to the limo parked near the dock. “Getting your honeymoon started early?”
Grant felt his cheeks grow warm and hoped his tunic was back in place.
“We had to finish up the photos,” Sophie lied.
“How come the photographer got on board forever ago, then?” Roger asked.
“Um…” She licked her bottom lip, which mesmerized Grant.
Roger shook his head as he pointed at her wedding gown. “I thought the white was for virgins. So why’re
you
wearing it, Taylor? You put the whore in horizontal.”
Her mouth hung open for a few seconds, then she started laughing.
“Enough, Rog,” Grant growled. “I gotta meet your girlfriend. I don’t know
how
she puts up with you.” As he took Sophie’s hand and guided her toward the guests, Roger guffawed from behind them.
“You look fantastic in that dress,” Grant told her, earning a smile from his bride. It was an off-the-shoulder gown that showcased her delicate collarbone and slim, muscular shoulders. The fitted bodice angled into a thin, dark purple belt. Beneath the belt, flowing curves swirled around the dress like waves, sounding a whispering bustle as they walked. He knew she’d debated with Cheri about whether to keep her hair up and down. He’d stayed out of it, but he was pleased by her decision: long strawberry-blond hair rested in soft curls down her back, held in place by an ornately beaded headband.
Guests mingled on deck, enjoying appetizers and drinks. When the light jazz music faded, everyone stared at them. From the bridge, the DJ Cheri had hired spoke into the microphone: “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Grant Madsen and Mrs. Sophie Taylor Madsen!”
The guests broke into applause a second before he wheeled to face her. “I thought you were keeping your name?”
“Professionally, yes.” She squeezed his hand. “But I decided to take your name for the
rest
of my life…as a sign of my love for you.”