“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations to the both of you.” Pastor John offers me an encouraging nod and murmurs, “You may kiss the bride.”
My bride… Holy shit! I’m a fucking married man.
Cheers explode behind us when I cradle Sammi’s face and begin lowering my mouth to hers.
Warmth spreads through my veins, and my heart expands to near bursting with how eager I am right now. It’s been five long years since our lips first touched. The memory of that fleeting kiss has been built up in my mind; it’s the standard by which I’ve judged every one since. And it doesn’t hold a candle to reality. I can only explain the sensation that rockets through me when our lips finally reunite as euphoric. The warmth of her breath as it mingles with mine. The taste of desire bleeding from her tongue. The sweet little mewls and moans that are for my ears alone. This is my very own version of heaven.
I’m a junkie, relapsing—tumbling into sweet, sweet oblivion.
This girl… she’s intoxicating in the best of ways. I’m addicted to her touch. Entranced by her beauty. And that smile of hers—those dimples—I swear they could bring about world peace.
In this moment I know, I’d choose death before ever willingly attempting life without her again.
She’s the best part of my past and everything I look forward to in the future. Sammi Deluca is utter perfection, and finally—fucking finally—she’s all mine.
“Lyle,” my sister Lizzie growls. “He said to kiss her, not eat her face.”
Snickering, we break apart, both panting for breath, our cheeks flush with shared passion.
“Turn to face the congregation,” Pastor John instructs quietly. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you,” he bellows, “Mr. and Mrs. Lyle Livingston.”
Adrenaline surges through my body like never before when he introduces us as husband and wife. Not even the thrill of performing can touch the sense of pride and accomplishment that comes over me in this very moment. Because I’ve never wanted anything so much.
“I can’t believe we actually did it,” Sammi muses as we march back down the aisle and across the parking lot toward the reception hall.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her snug to my body and planting a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s been a long time coming, Li’l Bit.”
She smiles up at me, but it falters. “I really thought you’d changed your mind.”
“Not about you…never about you,” I promise. It’s clear I owe her an explanation for dragging my feet for so long. But there really isn’t one. The truth is I got swept up in the fast life and was far too confident in my belief that she’d wait. I can be arrogant to a fault. This time it almost did me in.
Our conversation is cut short when we arrive at a photographer who’s set up to take our pictures beneath the sprawling oaks outside the hall.
It’s difficult to focus on smiling and posing while people whisper and stare as they proceed inside. I’ve never seen so many bewildered faces in one place. Not that I blame them. Hell, I still haven’t had time to process it all.
The moment we enter the building, we’re swept into my parents’ waiting arms.
“Lyle,” my mother shrieks, gripping my shoulders and giving them a shake, “why didn’t you tell us?”
“You and Sammi, eh?” Dad adds, grinning at my new wife, who he’s always adored. “Who’d’a thunk it?”
“It was a surprise to me, too,” I assure them, gazing over at my blushing bride.
“Well,” Li’l Bit chimes, “maybe not quite. You did show up with a ring, after all.”
I shrug, puffing out my chest. “I’m a cocky bastard; what can I say?”
“You get it from your old man.” Dad beams, as if that’s a trait to be proud of. “A chip off the old block.”
This man… I swear if I’d committed a murder, he’d find some way to compliment my technique then take credit for it. He’s always been my biggest supporter. I really lucked out in the parent department.
“Hate to break up this little love fest,” Lizzie says, inserting herself into the middle of our huddle. “But you two are needed on the dance floor.” She grabs Sammi and me by the wrists, dragging us out there.
Sammi stares up at me, her baby blue eyes wide with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“We don’t have a song.”
I’ll be damned if after all she’s been through these past weeks, especially today, I’ll watch her fall apart over such a minor thing. “The hell we don’t,” I counter, remembering the one I played for her on my old acoustic at our spot beneath the dock. “You just let me handle this.” I kiss her cheek and hold up a finger. “Be right back.”
I rush over to the DJ booth in the corner to make my request before hurrying back to join my wife beneath the glowing spotlight.
The smile that stretches across her face confirms she recognizes the opening notes to “Make You Feel My Love,” by Garth Brooks, and that she more than approves of my choice.
“This is perfect,” she says, linking her arms around my neck as she releases a dreamy sigh. “That was one of my favorite days.”
“Mine too,” I rasp. “Every minute I spent with you in that cave was a favorite, Li’l Bit.”
I grip her waist and pull her close, inhaling her sweet scent and relishing the warmth of her body pressed to mine. Bringing my lips to her ear, I serenade my girl, for old time’s sake, while taking her for a spin around the dance floor.
Her heart beats faster with every word I sing, the warmth of her breaths coming harder and more frequent into the crook of my neck.
I nip her lobe and trace the shell of her ear lightly with the tip of my tongue during the second chorus, eliciting a full body chill.
“Lyle…I—” She stops, contemplating whether or not to complete her thought.
“Yeah?” I urge.
“This…” she says, nodding between us, “It still feels right…” It’s a question as much as it is a statement. Her nerves are kicking into overdrive. She needs to be reassured that she’s not falling back into these old feelings on her own.
“Because it is.” I slide a hand along the bare skin of her back, up the nape of her neck, and trail it along her jawline until I arrive at her chin. Leaning in, I press a chaste kiss to her lips. “Time can’t erase feelings this deep, babe. We’re written in the stars.”
She nods, stroking her thumbs along the sensitive skin just behind my ears. “We’ve changed though,” she hedges. “A lot of time has passed, Lyle.”
“We’re the same in here…” I flatten a palm to her chest. “Where it matters.”
She brings a hand to my cheek, gazing deep into my eyes. “But what if love isn’t enough?”
“It’s more than enough,” I vow with a hard swallow. “It’s everything, Li’l Bit.”
Rising to her toes, she stretches her face toward mine. Without hesitation, I accept the invitation, meeting her halfway. My lips hover just a hair’s breadth from hers, twitching as they beg for her to close the distance.
Sammi doesn’t falter. Just like with our previous kisses, fireworks explode between us the instant our lips meet.
I wonder if it’s possible for it to always be so good between us. And if kissing her is this exhilarating, what it’ll be like when I finally bury myself inside of her. The mere thought has me hardening in my slacks.
I allow her to lead, holding myself back while she tortures me, peppering the softest whispers of a kiss across my mouth.
A groan slips out when she traces the seam of my lips with her tongue, ever so lightly.
“I wish this baby was yours,” she says pulling back, her voice weighted with regret.
“Hey,” I say, nipping at the tip of her nose. “This baby’ll be as much mine as I am my parents’.”
Having been adopted as an infant myself, I know better than most that it takes more than blood to make a family. I’ve never questioned my mom and dad’s love for me, and I’ll make sure this little one grows up feeling just as cherished as I did.
She nods, offering me a tense smile.
“I mean it. Biology doesn’t mean shit to me.”
“I know,” she says as the song draws to a close and our guests begin to celebrate with applause.
“It’s gonna be great,” I promise as her Uncle Bernard steals her away, pinning a crisp one-hundred-dollar-bill to her dress to commence the money dance.
Song after song, our partners switch out, each one pinning cash we don’t need to our clothing. It feels wrong to accept it, but you don’t mess with tradition.
It’s something my sister quickly learns when she adamantly refuses to dance with the broom my mother’s managed to find in a bathroom closet.
“You have to,” insists our Grandma Joyce, who came to live with them from Louisiana last year. “Your baby brother got married before you. Now you have to suffer the consequences like the rest of us had to.”
Mom swiftly agrees. “I had to do it when Uncle Bud and Aunt Sue got married.” She shrugs. “It’s bad luck if you don’t.” She narrows her eyes at her daughter. “Lord knows you don’t need any more of that.”
My family may not have had a thing to do with the planning of this impromptu wedding, but apparently, they’ve taken it upon themselves to infuse a little Cajun culture at the expense of my sister, and I’m here for it.
“Fine,” Liz grumps, snatching the broom from our grandmother’s hand. “But I’m choosing the song.” She gives Grandma Joyce a haughty glare over her shoulder as she turns to storm off.
“None of that bumping and grinding music,” the old woman warns.
“S’cuse me.” Liz pauses mid-flight. “Who’s the one dancing? Me or you?”
Grandma plants her hands on her hips and scowls.
“That’s what I thought… Just remember, this was your idea.” My sister leaves us with a wink before proceeding to sashay over to the DJ booth with the devil gleaming in her eye.
When I hear the words “Cash Money Records taking over for the ’99 and the 2000,” ring through the speakers, I picture my sister’s middle finger rising into the air and cackle.
There must never be a dull moment with those two head-strong women living in the same house. Thank God I don’t live there.
“I need a new mommy,” Annabelle says, appearing at my side. “This is embarrassin’.”
“Oh, she’s fun,” Sammi argues, shaking her ass beside me while cheering her best friend on. It’s crazy how close the two are, considering they’re five years apart. That hasn’t always been the case. But a lot has changed since I went away. These two are thick as thieves these days.
“I can’t believe you married her, Uncle Lyle. She’s embarrassin’ too!” She throws both arms out like she’s ready to just give up on life.
I choke. “But she’s really pretty,” I say, loud enough for my bride to hear.
If her answering smile is any indication, my message was received.
“I guess,” my niece grudgingly admits, folding her arms across her chest.
“And she’s a great cook,” I point out, continuing to sing my bride’s praises.
“Her spaghettis are pretty yummy,” she agrees, then squeals and slaps a hand over her face when her mother starts twerking on the broom handle.
“Where’s Pastor John?” my grandmother screeches. “Someone find that man and tell him to come douse this girl in holy water.” She snatches Annabelle’s hand, leading her and her brother away from the spectacle their mother is making of herself.
By the middle of the song, Sammi and her bridesmaids have joined Lizzie out on the dance floor and that broom is the envy of damn near every man in this room.
One after another, Sammi’s nosy family members begin to approach me, fishing for details on today’s switch up. But if my manager Anika has taught me anything over the last few years, it’s how to dance around uncomfortable topics. I’m well versed in the art of saying a whole lot without really saying much at all.
“Whoo,” DJ Vibe wheezes into the microphone. “Y’all got me sweatin’ over here, ladies,” he teases, fanning himself dramatically. “But it’s time for a little change in pace. Can we get the bride and her father on the floor, please?”
There isn’t a dry eye in the building when Sammi and Mr. Wayne take center stage.
Swaying slowly in place, they hold one another close while Celine Dion’s, “Because You Loved Me,” rips them wide open. The tender ballad is Sammi’s way of thanking her father for all that he’s given to her throughout the years—his love and wisdom. His unwavering support. It’s a promise that once he’s gone, she’ll be okay…and it’s because he’s instilled the best parts of himself into her. However unready she may be, he’s prepared her to face this world without him.
The urge to go to her, to wrap my arms around her shuddering body and promise it’s going to be all right, is almost too much to bear. But it isn’t my place…not yet. This moment isn’t about me. Besides, I’ve never lied to her before. And I certainly don’t plan to start now. Losing this man is going to tear her world apart.
There’s no way to protect her from it, no matter how badly I wish I could. All I can do is be here when the time comes, in whatever capacity she’ll allow.
