by June Gray
I turned off my computer and nodded. I grabbed my leather jacket and purse and we loaded the bags in the Volvo.
The flight to California took seven hours. We had a connection in Phoenix, so it was evening by the time we arrived in Monterey. We thought my dad was the one who would pick us up; instead Henry’s mom, Helen, was waiting for us past the gate, an excited smile all over her face.
She hugged me first, then gave her son a proud little smile before pulling him down in her embrace. Henry’s lips were set in a thin line the entire time but I spied something there in his eyes, a spark that looked a lot like optimism.
At my insistence, Helen parked the car in her driveway so that Henry and I could just walk over to my parents’ house. The moon was bright in the night sky, illuminating the streets with a soft bluish light. I hoped wildly that the next few days would be just as clear and mild.
“What are you thinking?” Henry asked as we walked up to the house.
“That it doesn’t rain on Sunday,” I replied.
We stood at the front door and just gazed at each other. “I can’t believe it’s really happening,” Henry said, breaking the silence.
“Not too late to back out,” I joked weakly.
He touched my cheek. “There’s no way I’m backing out. You’re stuck with me forever.” He rolled the luggage out of the way and stood closer. “I was just having a hard time believing that in two days, I’ll be your husband and you’ll be my wife. If anything, I’m a little worried that it won’t happen because I want it so badly.”
“It’ll happen,” I said, touching his cheek.
He was dipping his head to kiss me when the front door suddenly burst open and Will came out, interrupting the moment.
“Hey, Grandma, they’re here!” he called back over his shoulder. He grabbed my hand and tugged. “Come on, guys.”
Henry shook his head as he gathered the bags, a tiny smile playing along his lips. “That kid has interruption down to an art form,” he muttered. “Exactly like his dad.”
* * *
Julie slept in the guest room at my parents’ house that night while Will had the distinct pleasure of sleeping in Jason’s old room. My mom had taken great care to put out Jason’s old toys and photos, showing each one to a rapt Will. I don’t know if he gets it right now—that he is sleeping in the very same bed that his dad used to or that he’s playing with the same toys—but my hope is that one day, he will come to know his father in some small way through Jason’s old things. Maybe then Will won’t grow up feeling like he never knew his dad at all.
* * *
The day before the wedding was insanely crazy. Everyone was out running errands, tying up loose ends. Julie, Mom, and I were in a mad dash to finish the decorations, putting together the floral centerpieces and filling seashells with wax to use as candles on the table. Meanwhile Dad and Henry worked in the garage to finish building the archway that was to be our backdrop during the ceremony. Henry’s parents were busy with work, as usual, but they both came home early enough to help out with whatever they could.
The rehearsal dinner consisted of just the two families sharing some salad and lasagna at the Logans’ house. It was cozy and warm, full of laughter and nervous energy. Every now and then my eyes flitted across the table to find Henry watching me and we’d share a secret little smile.
“To Elsie,” Dad said near the end of dinner, giving me a warm look. “You will always be my little girl.”
We raised our glasses for the toast.
“And to Henry,” he continued. “Who’s been trying to infiltrate my family for years and, it looks like, will finally succeed.”
We all laughed as we toasted, our stomachs full and our hearts overflowing.
* * *
Finally, the big day arrived and the entire household was thrown into chaos. Mom rushed around trying to get everyone ready, very nearly freaking out until Julie calmed her and said she’d help with the decorations.
“What about Will?” Mom asked, her hair only half styled.
“I’m all ready!” Will announced, standing there in his little tan suit, complete with a blue tie.
“You look so handsome,” I said, the sight of him bringing tears to my eyes, making me wish for the millionth time that Jason was here to join in the celebrations. I took deep breaths to collect myself, to keep the tears from ruining my makeup.
The cake was delivered to our house, three-tiered and entirely white with swirly detailing at the bottom of each layer. The topper was the iconic LOVE logo in blue, with the O taken out and the wonky rock glued in its place. It was perfect.
I had only one glimpse of it before it was taken, along with the rest of the decorations, to where both fathers were setting up on the beach.
My dress was a sleeveless mermaid-style gown with a beaded belt and three layers of organza ruffles past the knee, and my curly hair was swept off to the side with a crystal hairpin. When I was finished dressing, I stood in front of the mirror, completely taken aback by the person staring back. She was absolutely glowing.
Mom had tears in her eyes as she stood behind me. I always knew she would cry at my wedding but I was not at all prepared to see her breaking down so soon. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart,” she said, pushing a lock of hair off my shoulder. She hugged me from behind and we looked at each other in the mirror, basking in the bittersweet moment. “One story ends and another one begins.”
I grasped her wrists and pulled her arms tighter around me. “I love you, Mom. Thanks for believing in Henry even when I didn’t.”
Dad was back from the beach when I emerged from my room. He looked at me with a healthy dose of shock on his face and maybe a hint of sadness. “My little Elsie,” he said, gathering me into his arms for a crushing embrace. “You grew up too fast.”
We all drove to Carmel Beach together and I waited in the car while the guests were seated. My stomach was literally trembling with nerves as I sat in that car and wondered how everything came together. As if reading my mind, Julie messaged me a picture of the beach—of the chairs, the gauze-draped archway, and the handsome groom arriving with his groomsmen.
Seeing that tiny picture made it all the more real. This was really happening. I was really getting married.
Before I could freak out, Henry sent me a message that brought me back on point: Where are you?
I smiled, imagining him standing by the priest while he texted. Waiting in the car. Where are you?
I’m here, Elsie. I’m waiting for you.
* * *
Then it was time to walk down those sandy steps to the beach, where wooden folding chairs had been set up in two sections and the aisle delineated with gauze and light-colored flowers. At the end was the archway and underneath it stood the priest with the Bible in his hands. The picture had given me an idea of what to expect, but the real thing still managed to take my breath away.
“Ready, sweetie?” Dad whispered, holding out his elbow.
I lifted the bouquet of paper roses higher, tucking my something borrowed—Jason’s Purple Heart medal—safely inside, then linked my arm with my father’s. “Are you?” I teased.
Even though he was smiling, Dad’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Never.”
The violinist began to play a slow, hopeful tune and we began the march. Julie and Beth walked ahead in their navy blue dresses, and soon strains of the wedding march filled the air. Dad and I walked unhurriedly as I looked around at everyone’s face, trying to smile at each and every one of our family and friends. All too soon, we reached the end of the aisle and I finally allowed myself to look up at Henry.
His blue eyes bore down on me, the expression on his face nearly unreadable, but somewhere in that chaos of emotions I saw the one I was searching for: certainty. I let out the breath I’d been holding for months, finally surfacing from the depths of insecurity.
My dad kissed my cheek before he handed me off to Henry with a handshake. Dad clapped Henry on the shoulder and said, “Take care of her, son.”
Henry performed a perfect salute and said, “Yes, sir.”
And then it was just us: Henry and me together under the clear blue sky. The waves behind us played a soothing symphony as the priest began the ceremony, welcoming everyone to the joining of our hearts.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Henry, from his handsome face, the khaki suit, and blue tie that matched his eyes. His hair was brushed away from his face with a few loose locks waving in the ocean breeze.
“You look beautiful,” he mouthed at me.
I smiled up at him, too overwhelmed with emotions to move. I only clutched at his hand tighter, hoping to never wake from this dream.
When it came time for the rings, Henry crouched down next to his tiny best man. “You got the rings, buddy?”
Will nodded and reached into his pants pocket. He leaned in to Henry and said, “I wanted you to marry my mom.”
I fought to contain my laughter but Henry only shrugged. “I’m marrying your aunt, so that means I’ll be your real uncle.”
“I wanted you to be my dad.”
“Uncles are better than dads, though,” he said so that only Will and I could hear. “Dads have to enforce the rules. Uncles, on the other hand, can be cool and buy you lots of toys and spoil you like crazy.”
Will’s face lit up. “You’re right! That’s better!”
Henry stood up with the rings in his hands, allowing me a glimpse of the downcast expression on his face before it was replaced with a smile.
“Jason’s here,” I whispered to him as he took my left hand. “He’s here with us.”
And then came time to say our vows, before God and our witnesses.
Henry was first to go. He took a deep breath before starting. “I, Henry Logan, take you Elsie to be my wife, my equal, my best friend. I promise to love and cherish you, to be there for you whenever you need me. I promise to respect you, to remain faithful, to keep you safe, but most of all, I promise to love you with everything I am even after I spend my last day on earth.
“Els, I haven’t always done the right thing, but I promise to you that I will strive to become the man you deserve. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you always.”
I wiped away a tear as I held his hand, the wedding band poised over his finger. It took me a minute to collect myself, to keep from bursting into delirious tears, but I finally managed. “I, Elsie Sherman, take you Henry to be my husband,” I began softly. “I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your dreams, to honor and respect you for as long as we both shall live.”
The priest opened his mouth to continue when I gave him a little shake of the head. A soft titter went through the crowd.
I turned back to my groom. “Henry, I love you. Those three words have a deeply embedded history. They come with a whole lifetime of laughter and tears. So when I say them, I hope you feel the weight of my words because they bear everything I hope. They bear everything that I am.”
Henry didn’t wait for the priest to say the official words. He just grasped the sides of my face and kissed me in front of our friends and family, in front of the endless ocean, and anyone who might have been watching from above.
And we were married.
* * *
The reception was a simple affair. We set up two whitewashed wooden tables and placed the seashell candles and bouquets of flowers along their center. The place settings were a pretty mixture of mismatched plates and silverware with a tiny starfish attached to each white napkin.
When the sun set, the candles were lit and our little party glowed on into the night. Dad and I danced on the sand while Henry danced with his mother.
There were a few mishaps—wax spilled out of the seashells and onto the table, napkins flew off in the breeze and sand got into everything—but we didn’t care. None of it mattered.
After dinner Henry and I shared our first dance as husband and wife under the stars. Hass played an acoustic version of “I Won’t Let You Go” by James Morrison on his guitar as Henry pulled me by the waist and gathered me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I leaned my head against my husband’s chest, breathing in his cool scent, sure that any second now, I was going to fly apart from all of the joy and love inside me. Only Henry’s strong arms kept me in place and held me steady.
“I’m here, Els,” he said against my ear as we swayed, holding my palm against his heart. “I’ll never let you go.”
Turn the page for a preview of June Gray’s next Disarm novel
ARREST
Coming soon from Berkley Books
PROLOGUE
I ran my hands through soft waves of dark hair, the ends of which curled around my fingers. I looked up and into the blue eyes of the shirtless man staring at me through the wall mirror. “Are you sure it needs to be buzzed completely off?” I asked, disappointed that I’d once again have to cut off the very thing that had brought us together.
“Yes. Academy standards.”
Call me sentimental but I loved Henry’s hair, which was a deep brown and had grown long over the past year. For the past several years I’d seen him with it cropped short, and it was only after he separated from the military that I was able to watch it grow again. Inch by inch, it felt as if the old Henry came back with each wavy strand, not only in appearance but also in attitude. The spark of mischief came back into his eyes, his smiles seemed wider, his laughter deeper.
I loved this unruly dark mess because it represented him as a teenage boy. It was a constant reminder that we had loved each other for nearly forever.
And now I had to cut it off. Again.
“Els?” Henry said, craning his head around to look up at me. “It’s just hair.”
“It’s not just hair,” I said, running my fingers through his dark locks again. “Once you start the police academy, then that’s it. You’ll never be able to wear it long again.”
“I can when I retire.”
“By then you’ll be old and wrinkly and you won’t look sexy with it anymore,” I said, only half teasing.
He spun around in the computer chair and grabbed me around the waist. “You think I’m sexy?” he asked with a cocky grin.
“Always.” I held his face in my hands, finding it hard to imagine his olive skin lined with age. It occurred to me then that I had the rest of my life to find out what he’d look like, and the thought filled me with joy.
“Okay, old man,” I said, spinning him back around and reaching for the clippers. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
I took the first swipe in the center of his head, going all the way to the back. I grinned at him through the mirror, pausing long enough to chuckle at his odd appearance, and then went back to the task with more care.
As his dark hair fell quietly away, I thought of Henry’s words in his therapy tapes, when he’d talked about the first time I cut his hair back in high school.
That was when I knew I was a goner. This girl in front of me was going to be my happily ever after.
I bet when he made that realization, he never would have thought he would somehow find himself in nearly the exact same place many years later, with our happily ever after no longer a whispered wish but a reality.
“You’re so beautiful,” Henry said in a soft, raspy voice, drawing me away from my thoughts.
I looked up and studied my reflection in the mirror, looking at my curly brown hair, hazel eyes, light skin that Henry had once likened to milk. I’d always considered myself somewhat average in the looks department, but nobody else made me feel gorgeous with just one look. Nobody but Henry.
I met his eyes through the mirror, and for one brief moment, I saw that kid again, the one who wore braces, who stole trin
kets from people’s houses, who went home night after night to an empty house. Who could have guessed that kid would grow up to be this noble, honest, caring man?
“I think you’re good to go.” I rubbed his bristly head, brushing hair off his bare shoulders.
Quick as lightning, his hand shot out and captured one of mine. He brought my palm to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against my skin. Then he stood up and turned to face me, standing so close, my breath was ruffling the hair on his chest. “This is what I should have done back then,” he said and kissed me like we were just two kids in love, without a clue what the future held. “This time last year, I was in Korea, thinking I’d lost you for good. And now I’m here, with you, building a life together,” he said. “I could ask for nothing more.”
“I’d say we got pretty lucky.”
He shook his head with a tender smile. “Luck has nothing to do with it,” he said. “We’re just two willful people who moved mountains to be together.”
1
Several months later . . .
“Honey, I’m home.” I unloaded my purse and laptop bag on the floor as soon as I shut the front door. When I heard nothing, I kicked off my shoes and carried them through the living room and to the kitchen. Still no sign of Henry. “Hello?”
“I’m up here.”
I eyed the cold pasta salad on the counter wistfully, my stomach reminding me that it was past eight o’clock and I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. I grabbed a fork and took a few mouthfuls, chewing quickly before heading upstairs.
I found Henry in our master bathroom, folding a box and stuffing it into the small trash can. “Hey,” he said planting a kiss on my lips. He pulled away, licking his lips. “You taste like Italian dressing.”
I looked around the bathroom, trying to figure out what he had changed now. Since closing on the house in August, we had been slowly trying to update the outdated interior. But with Henry’s long days at the police academy and my hectic hours at work, we hadn’t been able to do much at all. We were nearing Thanksgiving and all we’d accomplished was replacing the dingy carpet, painting the trim white, and changing the color of the walls.
