I come down slowly, trembling, then curl up in his arms. “Is it this way for everybody?” I ask. “This intensity. This feeling that I’ll shrivel up if I can’t touch you?” I tilt my head up to look at him. “You know what I mean, right?”
“You know I do. ”
“Is it because we’re a little bit lost, you and I?”
He kisses the top of my head. “Lost? Oh, no, sweetheart. Not anymore. We’re found. ”
After a moment, he eases us both up off the bed so that we can get under the covers. After we’re settled again, he turns to get something off the bedside table. I recognize it immediately—it’s his grandmother’s ring. My ring. The one I’d left behind.
“You asked me to marry you once before. Now it’s my turn. ”
He slides out of bed, and to my delight, drops to one knee as he holds out the ring. “Sylvia Brooks, will you marry me?”
I look at him, and cannot hide my smile.
Second chances. That seems to be the way it is with Jackson and me.
And there’s no way am I screwing this one up.
“Yes,” I say, and as I tug him back onto the bed and kiss him sweetly, only one thing goes through my head. Wife, I think.
And I really can’t wait.
epilogue
I stand on the main beach at Santa Cortez with Jackson beside me and the world that we have built rising up behind us, fresh and clean and so intertwined with the landscape that it is hard to believe that the buildings didn’t burst up with the formation of the island.
Everything is ready. The guest rooms are primped and polished and made up with fresh linens. The restaurants are stocked. The gift stores overflow with merchandise. The pools sparkle. Not a detail has been spared, and every magazine and newspaper and blog that has covered the resort has called it one of Stark Real Estate Development’s crowning achievements.
The guest list is already overflowing, and we are booked up for the next two years.
The official opening is over a month away, but already the island is bustling with administration, maintenance, and service staff. Most have moved permanently to their quarters on the island, but today there are about a dozen more people on the island who do not live here full-time.
They’ve come for our wedding.
The judge who stands before us has already read most of the vows, but I’ve barely heard a word. It’s hard to hear from up here where I’m floating above the earth.
But when he asks if we have the rings and Ronnie bounces and squeals, “I do! I do!” I know that it is real.
I take Jackson’s ring from the little pillow that she holds out to me, then gently slide it onto his finger, his eyes never leaving mine.
He does the same, and I swear that I can feel the shock of this moment, this new reality, settle through me as the ring encircles my finger, just as Jackson has encircled my life.
“You may kiss the bride,” the judge says, and Jackson wastes no time. He pulls me to him, leans me back, and kisses me thoroughly, all to the applause and catcalls of our small audience.
“Well, hello, wife,” Jackson says, when he rights me.
“Hello, husband,” I reply, then wrap my arms around him and sigh.
“We’ll leave you two alone soon,” Nikki promises as she and Damien approach. “But we have a little reception set up in the main restaurant. ”
I glance at Jackson, who just shakes his head. We’d not intended a reception. Just a quick wedding squeezed in before my work life got crazy with the opening.
And, of course, a long weekend for a honeymoon.
The resort was designed so that a dozen bungalows on the north side of the island are actually for sale. And Nikki and Damien—now otherwise known as my sister- and brother-in-law—gave us one for a wedding gift.
“Just a little something for the happy couple,” Damien had said to Jackson, obviously trying to hold back a smile. “I figured if you designed it, then it must be to your taste. ”
Jackson had laughed. And though I’d feared he’d turn down the gift as too extravagant, he’d only said, “Hell, yeah. ”
Now, he bends down so that Ronnie—now officially Veronica Amelia Steele—can ride piggyback as he and I hold hands on our walk to the reception.
He’s barefoot in deference to the sand, but he’d told me that he wasn’t going to get married if he wasn’t wearing a suit. It’s black and perfectly tailored, the gloss of the fine material gleaming in the sun. His only nod to the casual nature of our wedding is the fact that he’s not wearing a tie. Instead, his collar is open, and when he turns to grin at me, wide and happy, I see the indentation at the base of his neck. Page 100
I’m struck with the overwhelming urge to kiss him there. To lick him and taste him. Because he is truly mine now. Every delicious inch of him.
I manage to control myself; after all, we now have all the time in the world.
Unlike my husband, I’d taken the beachside nature of our wedding into consideration. I’m wearing a white silk tank top embroidered with delicate silver threads and a flowing white skirt. It’s not sheer, but gives the illusion that it is, and the layers of gauzy material flicker in the breeze as we walk.
One of the resort’s bands is playing when we arrive at the restaurant, and there is a beautiful three-tiered wedding cake standing in the middle of the dance floor. Ronnie takes off running for it, and when she turns back, her eyes are big. “Mommy! Daddy! Cake!” She claps her hands, delighted, and everyone around begins to laugh. I, however, am about to cry.
Because today, finally, I really am Mommy. And next month it will be even more official, because that’s when my adoption of Ronnie will be finalized.
I know that I’m not a perfect mother, and there are times when I still look at Ronnie and wonder what the hell I’m doing, but at the same time, I know that I’m doing my best. And I know that Jackson has my back.
More than that, I’m not scared anymore because I know that Ronnie is growing up healthy and happy and loved, and that’s what matters most.
I take Jackson’s hand and squeeze. He looks down at me, then gently kisses my forehead. “I know,” he said softly. “Me, too. ”
We dance, Jackson and me, then Jackson and Ronnie, then me and Ethan who has been grinning like a fool through the whole wedding. He passes me off to Cass, who whispers that I’ve given her ideas as she glances over at Siobhan who is sitting at one of the tables having what appears to be a very serious conversation with Ronnie. I even dance with Damien once, while Jackson spins Nikki on the floor.
Betty and Stella are here, too, along with Megan, who is looking happy and healthy in a flowing yellow sundress. Jackson takes both her and Ronnie onto the floor when the band starts playing “The Twist. ” It doesn’t last long; the little girl keeps dissolving into giggles before shouting “Daddy! Meggie! I twisting!”
Of everyone in our lives, only our fathers and my mother are notably absent. My father, because he still has months to go on his negotiated sentence. My mom because that’s who she is, and I have come to terms with that. And Jeremiah because he is not welcome.
Jackson told me about what happened with Graham Elliott, of course. And though Jeremiah had later sworn to Jackson that he would never have pursued the movie if he’d known about Ronnie, to Jackson that was too little, too late.
Because the betrayal that Jeremiah perpetrated wasn’t about Ronnie. It wasn’t even about the movie. It was about Jeremiah playing off Jackson’s life for personal gain. And Jackson told his father firmly and finally to stay away from his life, and also away from his wedding.
But I am not thinking about Jeremiah Stark today. Not when it’s my wedding day and all around us is food and laughter and fun. Most of all, there is love. And when the festivities end—when Damien and Nikki scoop Ronnie up to take her back to the Malibu house for a long weekend—I hold Jackson close as we say goodbye to our friends, the
n kiss our little girl goodbye.
“I realize a honeymoon is no place for a toddler,” Jackson says as we stroll hand in hand toward our bungalow. “But I’ve gotten so used to having her around, that it’s a little weird now that she’s gone. ”
The sun has begun to set, and the sky is a brilliant glow of orange and purple. “Good,” he adds. “But weird. ”
“Maybe I can make it a little less strange for you. ” I pull him to a stop beside me on the path. Then I take our joined hands and place them gently on my lower abdomen.
I hesitate only a moment, then tilt my head back to look at him. “There’s still a child with us on the island, Jackson. ”
The look of surprise and wonder and—thank goodness—happiness that I see in his eyes almost knocks me off my feet.
“You’re pregnant?” he asks, but I don’t get to answer because my “yes” is swallowed up by my squeal when he scoops me into his arms and holds me close to his chest. “I love you,” he says simply, and I feel a quiet glow spread through me. The warmth of anticipation and wonder and excitement. Because for Jackson and me—for our family—our life together is just beginning. And it will be spectacular.
Sexy. Confident. Commanding. Have you met Damien Stark?
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