by Ros Baxter
‘Well,’ he thought for a moment. ‘Technically, it’s been in a safe box. But yeah.’
My brain was starting to work correctly now. ‘But I don’t believe in marriage.’
‘Too bad,’ said Wayne. ‘If you love me, you’re not going anywhere ‘til you’ve got this little beauty on your hand. You’re not getting away again.’ I looked at him like I was a simpleton, and for the first time, I saw a shadow of doubt cross his features. ‘You do love me, don’t you? Rocket?’
It wasn’t that I was trying to keep him guessing. I was just suddenly incredibly overwhelmed by the moment. Here he was. He had come all this way. For me. He wasn’t angry. He loved me. Had always loved me. Wanted to marry me. Even though I did crazy things. He seemed to dig that I did crazy things. I didn’t have to apologize. I didn’t have to be different. He thought I was good just like this.
Even when I got into trouble and arrested and captured.
And I loved him.
Could it really be that easy?
But just then, another troubling thought crossed my mind, and like an expert ball player, he caught it as it sailed through the air over him, and pitched it right back.
‘I’ve already asked your Mom and Dad and Eve,’ he supplied. ‘They think it’s a great idea. Eve wants us to get married before Clark and Martha. To give them some ideas about bridesmaids skirts.’
‘Dresses,’ I corrected him automatically.
But I still wasn’t saying what I should say right now.
Why the hell not?
Everyone was looking at me expectantly. When the silence seemed to be stretching forever, Esteban took decisive action. He turned me to him, and I could see tears in his eyes. Huh, Latin men. But he looked at me with those beautiful, expressive, puppy-dog eyes of his, and he knew what to say.
‘Beautiful girl. Thees man ’as sailed the seas for you. ’E loves you. As ’e should. Search your ’art, and tell heem what you want. I can see it een your eyes. Some moments are made for honesty.’
He was right.
‘Of course I love you,’ I almost yelled at Wayne. ‘I just can’t believe you love me. Now. Still. I can’t believe you came all this way for me…’ Wayne reached for me and I grabbed his hands. ‘Yes!’ I yelled. ‘Yes of course of course of course.’
Wayne cupped my face and kissed me then, in front of everyone. Those big hard-soft lips pressed into mine like he was daring them to disappear. Then I really started crying. About the same time that I flung myself at his broad, strong chest and buried my face in the clean, sweet-smelling cotton of his very authentic looking shipping shirt. He did his ‘shhh, shhh’ thing and I felt his big, hairy hands on the back of my neck. I felt like stretching myself out like a cat on the deck so he could stroke all of me. But it didn’t seem appropriate right then.
Especially because Emmy chose that moment to come striding back on board, with fire in her eyes.
‘Turn the goddamn camera off,’ she bellowed at the terrified looking CNN cameraman, standing beside the obligatory blonde journalist, both of whom I then noticed for the first time. They did as they were told. ‘Right, sister,’ she went on. ‘Now that you’re safe, come over here so I can strangle you.’
Wow, sounded like she and Wayne had been comparing notes.
She was interrupted from her lynching by the sound of popping champagne corks. Esteban had been worded up by Mom and Dad, so he had come prepared. He was passing around French champagne, and when Emmy found out why she somewhat ungraciously decided to let go of her fury with me for the time being.
God knows how Esteban had managed to get two dozen bottles of bubbly through customs and onto the boat. The man really could procure anything. We still didn’t quite know what he did for a living, but I had my theories.
‘To Lolly and Wayne’, Esteban proposed.
Actually, it sounded more like ‘Yolly’, but, far from sounding weird and childish, it just made him sound more like Antonio Banderas.
Everyone raised their glasses in agreement.
‘And to all of us,’ he went on. ‘Because…’ He smiled toothily at Emmy and I particularly. ‘Everone can make a difference, and…’
We both laughed. ‘Together we can change the world,’ we finished in unison for him.
Twenty minutes later, we were on our way.
***
And now here we are. I thank the stars for Esteban’s somewhat questionable sources as I down my third champagne. I stand at the helm of the boat, in Wayne’s mammoth embrace, and have a Titanic moment where I vaguely consider stretching out my arms and screaming into the frigid wind. Then I think better of it. There’s really no excuse for that kind of lame behavior. Even being rescued from imprisonment on the high seas. Even becoming betrothed.
But I do something else. I turn around to face Wayne, put my hands on either side of his beautiful jaw, look him in the eye and say, ‘Hey baby, they’re playing our song.’
Because, right at that exact moment, as all of the madness and confusion and questioning of my life settles for the first time ever into perfect peace, it starts:
The low, slow braying of a hundred humpback whales.
We turn, and see them following us, leaping and diving out of the water. Like a perfect, sonorous bridal train. And if I didn’t already believe that the universe sends you signs, I suddenly do.
And I know that everything will be all right.
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ISBN: 9780857991393
Title: Lingerie for Felons
Copyright © 2014 by Ros Baxter
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All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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