by Elizabeth
fro. I suspect Nick would be okay with that too, but his mother
and mine would not be. “Our families would be very upset if they
weren’t invited,” I explain.
“Well, I’ll let you think about it,” the priest says, clasping each
of our hands in turn. “I’m here if you change your mind. And if
nothing else, you must come back to baptize the twins.”
My jaw drops. He is already walking away. “How did you
know about the twins?” I call after him.
20
E L I Z A B E T H O ’ R O A R K
He turns back to me with a smile. “Quinn Stewart Bertrand, I
know more than you can begin to imagine.”
He walks into his office and closes the door while Nick and I
stand there, speechless. Nick runs his hands through his hair.
“He called me Bertrand,” I whisper.
“And he knew about the twins,” Nick says. “We’ve only told a
few people. And certainly no one here.”
I bite my lip. “I know we should be weirded out, but I’m sort
of…not?”
“Yeah,” he says, clasping my hand. “Me neither. And that’s
probably the weirdest thing of all.”
4
We spend our last night in Eader out on our deck. We
order room service and dine under the moonlight,
watching as the waves crash against the cliffs across
from us. We swim and lie in the hammock together in a blanket.
He rolls me on top of him. “We can’t possibly have sex in a
hammock,” I argue.
He puts one foot on the floor to brace us. “Watch and learn,
Mrs. Reilly.”
Eventually we rouse ourselves just enough to shower and go
to bed. When I wake in the morning Nick is sound asleep, flat on
his back, one arm stretched over his head. And completely naked.
It’s extremely hard not to wake him up, but in an act of supreme
selflessness I instead climb from the bed and go to our deck,
leaning against the railing to watch the night sky give way to
morning, the sun bursting out over the peaks to the east like a
ripe peach begging to be pulled loose.
I love my life with Nick back in D.C. but there is something
about this place—it feels like home in a way nothing else ever
has. I picture a different kind of life here with Nick, one I spend
22
E L I Z A B E T H O ’ R O A R K
barefoot and free, one where our daughters tumble out onto a
wide white beach each morning and run wild.
Nick comes up behind me, clad only in boxers, and rests his
hands on my shoulders, pushing my hair aside to press his lips to
the side of my neck. I lean back against his chest. “Do we have
to leave?”
He wraps his arms around me. “Unless you want to give birth
to the twins on an island which appears to have no medical care,
I think we do. But I had a thought—how do you feel about
eloping?”
I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his neck. “With
you? The sooner the better.”
WE WEAR the clothes we brought to go to dinner, before we
discovered there were no restaurants. Nick is in a white button
down and suit pants, I’m in a white sundress. I bring the bouquet
that was left on my seat yesterday. The flowers, which I placed in
water last night, still look as fresh as they did when I received
them.
I emerge from the bathroom in my dress, no make-up but the
tan I’ve gotten since we arrived and a touch of lip gloss. Nick
walks toward me slowly, placing his hands on my arms. “You have
no idea how lucky I feel right now.”
I have some idea. I go on my toes to kiss him. “I just need to
put my hair up and we can go.”
Nick runs a hand through it. “Leave it down. I want you to
look exactly the way you do at this moment.” He pulls my hands
to his mouth and kisses both. “This, just as you are right now, is
who I want to marry.”
Nick and Quinn’s Wedding
23
THE PRIEST DOES NOT SEEM at all surprised to find us at his
doorstep at 8 AM on a Monday morning, but why would he be?
He seems to know everything before we do. He throws the
massive doors of the church wide, securing them with bolts so
they remain open during the ceremony. It’s odd, but this feels
right too. The beach and the sea behind us feel, to me, every bit
as holy as the inside of this church.
He brings us to the altar. I set the flowers on the pew behind
me and join hands with Nick. He’s smiling at me in that way of
his—shy and pleased, unable to keep that dimple of his in check.
He is so unspeakably beautiful. I swallow down the lump in my
throat.
The priest clears his throat and begins. “Will you, Quinn
Stewart Bertrand, take this man to be your wedded husband?
Will you love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him, in
sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both
shall live?"
“I will,” I whisper. My voice is slightly hoarse. It’s a struggle
not to cry.
“And will you, Nicholas James Reilly, take this woman to be
your wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her and
keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long
as you both shall live?”
Nick’s eyes hold mine. “I will.”
The priest gazes at us both. “By the power vested in me by
this church, I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Nick’s mouth twitches upward. “Where’s the part where I get
to kiss the bride?”
The priest laughs. “She’s your wife now. You are free to do as
you wish.”
Nick cradles my face in his hands. “I’m going to make you the
happiest woman alive, Quinn. I swear it.”
“You already have,” I whisper. He leans down and when our
lips meet, there is only him. There is no priest, no roof over our
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E L I Z A B E T H O ’ R O A R K
heads, nothing but him and the wide, wild world around us, a
breeze—fragrant with sea myrtle and sandalwood—drifts around
us like a blessing.
Finally I drop back to my feet. The priest waits, marriage
decree and pen in hand, at the altar. I take the pen and sign, and
then hand it off to Nick just as something at the back of the
church catches the light.
A long blonde braid swaying as a woman exits through the
wide doors. I know her. I know her in my soul before I even put it
together, but then she turns and smiles at me over her shoulder.
Sarah, my mother, younger than she was when I last saw her.
Two small girls—one blonde, one brunette—are on either side of
her, grasping her hands. The brunette turns back and gives me a
big, cheeky smile just before she’s pulled away. I get just enough
of a glimpse to see that her eyes are an astonishing gray. Rose. Or
the twin who told us her name was Rose, anyway.
They are gone before I can even utter a word. And a wiser
part of me knows that I am not meant to meet them just yet. I
can’t imagine how t
he twins were able to time travel here at such
a young age. I can’t imagine how my mother managed to be here
when I saw her die with my own eyes. But I suspect it means our
lives are about to get far more bizarre than they’ve already been.
Nick finishes signing and the priest hands us the certificate.
“In this marriage, you will be blessed beyond measure, and you
will produce daughters who will be a blessing to the world.
Protect them. Protect each other. Go forth,” he says, “and begin
the life you were meant for.”
The life we were meant for. A life that will involve time traveling
twins, a dead mother stopping by for surprise visits.
“You ready, Mrs. Reilly?” Nick asks.
I look up at him. At the pleased, sheepish smile, his heart in
his eyes, and I know that as long as I have him by my side, we can
handle whatever our lives throw at us.
“Yes,” I reply, taking his hand. “I’m ready.”
Nick and Quinn’s Wedding
25
The End
I hope you enjoyed Nick and Quinn’s wedding! I’ll send updates
about upcoming stories in this universe. Next up: The Moon We
Share, the story of Quinn’s parents.
Go to Goodreads to learn more!
