Page 48 of I’m Not Yours

Reece and I were married the next summer, in July, on the beach below my home, near the tide pools, at sunset.

My wedding dress was light blue, form-fitting, with a crisscross bodice that tied behind my neck and a long train that ruffled along the edges.

I’d had yellow and red Scottish broom, foxglove, purple moth orchids, cherry blossoms, pink cyclamen, yellow witch hazel, all flowers grown in Scotland, painted—yes, painted— on the fabric of my dress by my father.

Later, the dress was featured in another magazine article. We have been bombarded with orders for the same dress ever since.

August and September wore dresses in an even lighter blue, with the same Scottish flowers. We wore red heels. I sewed the last stitch for good luck with March, September, August, and our parents watching. We did the MacKenzie hug and cheer afterward.

My bridal bouquet included all the flowers that were on my dress, but Reece had found two black butterfly shells, whole ones, and we’d stuck those in, too.

The reception was at a local bed-and-breakfast, with white tents and sparkling lights set up outside the Queen Anne home, the entire Clan MacKenzie present, the tables spread with our Scottish tartans.

Estelle and Leoni attended and danced the night away.

Morgan was my flower girl. She wore her NASA spacesuit.

Instead of tossing rose petals, she spent hours making miniature space shuttles out of paper and flew those. She fit right in.

We celebrated our heroine Geraldine, we hiked early, boated, and enjoyed the spas, we had our bachelorette party under the moon in white dresses, and we had our rehearsal dinner where all of Reece’s family came.

Reece’s family seemed to appreciate the wands and flower crowns. They loved the kilts and bagpipes.

I loved Reece. I loved him more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. I had been to his ranch and it was as compelling to me as the beach, only in a different way. The land undulates as the ocean does, only it’s in gold and green and the silence is profound.

The afternoon before our wedding, out on the beach, he took both my hands in his and said, “June, when I take those vows tomorrow, I mean them. In sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, forsaking all others, forever. I will always love you, there will not be a day in my life that I won’t.

You are the other half of my heart, the other half of my life, my future.

I love you more than I will ever be able to say. ”

And I did what I seem to be doing best now: I cried. “I love you, too, Reece. And I’m so glad that sneaker wave knocked me over into your arms!”

For a wedding gift Reece gave me a diamond necklace in the shape of a butterfly and a quilt that he’d hired Leoni and Estelle to sew for me.

All of mine and Reece’s relatives had donated a cotton shirt to be cut into squares for the quilt.

I had an uncle who donated a shirt with dancing fish on it.

Another had palm trees. There were flowers, stripes, birdhouses, champagne glasses, flip-flops, and birds.

The quilt was a compilation of our families, of us.

In the middle was the Clan MacKenzie tartan.

It was stunning, it was family, it was love.

“You’ve resewn your life, June, that’s why I wanted you to have the quilt.

” He pointed to a square with a monarch butterfly on it.

“That one is me. And this one”—he pointed at the purple and blue butterfly next to it—“that’s you.

” He pointed to five squares with smaller butterflies.

“Those are for the kids. But don’t feel limited by that number.

” He gave me a smackeroo on the cheek. “We could have more.”

“That’s a lot of kids!” I sputtered out, happy.

“Sure is, June.” He kissed me thoroughly, without restraint, the passion flowing hot and heavy between us, no longer something we had to control and deny. Kissing Reece was kissing love. Eternal love. Forever love.

Later, we danced along the beach, into the waves, and when my family, and his family, saw us, they clambered down the stairs and we all danced together under the yellow-and-orange sunset, cranberry red slashes highlighting that golden orb, tartans flying.

Reece wrote a song about families later titled “The Wave Dancers.”

A top country artist bought it. It was the number one country song for weeks.

Zero Things I’m Worried About

1.

2.

3.

I am winning in online Scrabble. The other night I spelled these words: “dream,” “quest,” and “Botox.”

When I was done, I ate peppermint sticks with Reece.

Then we got naked.