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, then 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?