* * * *
Afterward, his cousins took us out to a local gay bar, with the most absolutely ridiculous name: Local Gay Bar. It boasted a great band that played everything from swing to oldies to heavy metal. Most of his cousins were straight, but they had no problem dancing with each other or with any of the guys who asked them.
Wills and I did more dancing than drinking—the last thing we wanted were hangovers spoiling our wedding day, so he stuck to beer, and I…I couldn’t help laughing…had daiquiris, although not hickory daiquiris.
There was something about Wills that night. When we went out, usually one or two guys…or three or four…would ask him to dance. I’d have sucked it up and sat the dance out, but he always refused with a polite smile.
But that night, it was like someone rang the dinner bell. Everyone wanted to dance with him.
“Let him, Theo,” Ben, the oldest Matheson cousin, said. “Tonight’s his last night of freedom.”
I didn’t want his family to think I was a possessive asshole, so I said, “Sure,” but I also didn’t want to see my almost-husband dance with anyone who wasn’t me. I turned my back on the dance floor and went to the bar. I was tempted to order something stronger than the daiquiri, but before I could, I felt a presence at my back.
“This dance is yours, sailor,” Wills said.
“Babe—”
“Unless you’d rather pay a visit to the men’s room?” He waggled his brows.
I looked toward Ben, who was watching us. He grinned wryly, shrugged, and raised his glass in a silent toast.
So I led him to the dance floor, and I realized the band was playing “Isn’t It Romantic.”
Wills pulled me into his arms, and as if of their own volition, my hands wound up on his ass.
“Know something, babe? I’m the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” He sighed happily, rested his head on my shoulder, and began to sing along with our song as we swayed across the dance floor.
He was wrong, though. I was.
* * * *
Our wedding day dawned bright and beautiful, and cooler than the day before. It passed in a complete and total blur. We ordered room service and had breakfast in bed. Newsday, the local newspaper, came with it, and I was pretty certain we read it, but I didn’t remember the headlines, the comics, or what Dear Abby had to say. We showered and stood side by side in front of the double vanity while we shaved.
“Happy birthday, baby.” I leaned sideways and kissed the spot just under his right ear.
“You give the best birthday presents, you know that?”
“It’s my pleasure, but I’m getting a pretty awesome gift as well.” I never thought I’d have this, have someone like him who loved me and wanted to marry me.
“Mmm. The ceremony doesn’t start until 4 p. m.,” he said as he ran his electric razor up over his neck.
“I know. How are we going to pass the time?” We’d already decided we’d wait until tonight to consummate our marriage.
“Let’s go for a ride.”
“Okay.”
We smoothed aftershave over our cheeks, dressed, and went down to the parking lot.
“Are we going anywhere in particular?” I asked as we wedged ourselves into the ‘Vette.
“The south shore. We’re going to Jones Beach.”
“We didn’t bring our suits. And…uh…last I heard, they don’t allow nude swimming there.”
“No. I thought we’d walk along the boardwalk for a bit.”
“Okay.”
“And there’s a restaurant there that has the best French onion soup. They hollow out a round loaf of French bread for the bowl.” He took his gaze from the road for a moment and smiled at me. “Just like you do.”
“Sounds good.”
* * * *
We had lunch, strolled along the boardwalk, and watched as kids splashed on the shore.
I glanced at my watch. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I think maybe we’d better head back.”
“That’s a good idea, just in case we hit traffic.”
* * * *
Jill was pacing the lobby of the Inn when we walked in. “There you are! Do you have any idea what time it is? Come on, we have to hurry.”
I checked my watched again. “Jill, it’s only three.”
“Yes, well, you don’t want to be late, do you? Theo, your tux is in on the other bed in your suite. Oh, Wills, your face is sunburned. And your hair…” She shook her head. “Jack’s waiting for you. Now, hurry!”
“Yes, Jill.” She grimaced and rubbed the mound of her abdomen. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. These Braxton Hicks contractions…. I’ve been getting them for the past month. Go on upstairs. Where’s your brother?”
Since we had no idea, we took that question to be rhetorical and headed for the elevator.