Page 44

Hamish

We’re all here.

Standing on the edge of Love You Hot Springs, I take a deep breath and try to absorb it all—the mist curling off the surface like stage smoke, the splashing of the waterfall that anchors the far end, and the surreal sight of everyone bobbing around on heart-shaped rafts.

Not one of us looks dignified.

Which is exactly why I love it.

Jason and Marie are on a float shaped like a red velvet cupcake. Marie’s swimming costume is pink with a giant red heart across her chest that says "Bride’s Mom in Heat."

Da is in a McCormick tartan swim kilt, with a t-shirt that reads: Hot Springs, Cold Beer, Warm Heart.

Nessa nailed that one.

And Mum? Mum is with him on a raft shaped like a flaming arrow, wearing a red cossie with the phrase "Hot Mum Summer" bedazzled across the front. Did Nessa have these custom designed overnight? Wedding Protectors is really earning their fee.

“Ye look like a Valentine’s Day hostage situation,” I mutter as she floats past.

“I feel radiant,” she beams. I know that smile, though. It's Mum’s serial killer smile. This wedding is so far away from her Edinburgh Castle dream, but you know what?

It's still perfect.

Amy, radiant in her own right, is across from me on her raft, a six-foot-high pink swan with an elegant, curved neck.

I've never seen a raft nearly as tall as me.

Her swimwear is a white bikini with subtle hearts, her dyed blonde hair up in a messy bun that makes me want to marry her five times over.

Matt, our minister/lifeguard for the day, stands knee-deep in the water, dressed in his normal black shirt with its clerical collar over a pair of red board shorts.

He’s also wearing a festive red/white/pink stole, but to keep it dry, he’s tossed one end over his shoulder like a scarf. The look is jaunty.

Nessa is on the shore, under a tent full of heat lamps and emergency towels, managing the family Zoom call from an iPad on a tripod.

“Okay!” she yells over the roar of the waterfall. “We’ve got Shannon and Declan, Carol and her boys, the McCormick siblings, Andrew and Amanda, and James, who says you're all crazy but he's here to support his brother and nephew."

Archie, in a dark suit with a red enamel heart pin on his lapel, paces the perimeter like a love-themed Navy SEAL, scanning the woods for any signs of lurking paparazzi. He’s the only one more serious than Matt today.

“Let’s begin,” Matt announces with calm authority. The small waterfall behind him gives this whole thing a dramatic flair, like nature herself is officiating.

As we all settle in our bobbing, swaying rafts, my own in the shape of a giant red heart but with cupholders, I catch Amy’s eye.

"You ready for this, love?" My swim kilt flutters a bit on my knee.

She smiles, mist clinging to her lashes. “Let’s get wet.”

“Aye,” I grin. “We’re takin’ the plunge.”

Matt clears his throat and lifts the small waterproof bible he’s holding in one hand.

“We are gathered here today,” he begins, “surrounded by nature, family, and some of the strangest inflatable décor I’ve ever seen, to witness the union of Hamish McCormick and Amy Jacoby.”

“Aye, just need fireworks and a unicorn ta complete the picture,” I mutter, earning a wink from Amy.

I shift slightly on my raft, trying to reach the rings in the side pocket of my swim kilt, and immediately regret it.

The raft wobbles like a drunken sheep, my bad knee working overtime to balance.

My fingers close around the small velvet pouch, but it slips, bounces off my knee, and drops toward the water.

“Whoa!” I lunge, snagging it an inch above the surface.

From the iPad on the shore, Amanda’s voice rings out: “Is this a McCormick thing? Losing rings in bodies of water?”

Andrew cuts in: “It only happened one time, Amanda."

"It was a huge rock and you lost it in Walden Pond!"

"It all worked out fine," he reminds her. I can't see the iPad, but I hear their twin boys cheering.

I straighten up, pouch now clutched in both hands like a priceless artifact. “Ye’d think the danger would be the vows, no’ the logistics.”

Amy laughs, and even from here, I can see the joy in her eyes. It’s the kind that reaches all the way to the corners.

Matt guides us through our vows. Amy’s voice is strong and sure, even as her raft rocks and she grabs the neck of the pink swan for stability.

“I love you,” she says, “with everything I am. Even when you wake me up at six in the morning to ice your knee on my side of the bed. Even when you fill the fridge with nothing but Irn Bru, electrolyte drinks, and protein shakes. I love you because you make the world warmer and brighter—and funnier, too. You are the happiest person I know, and that happiness has rubbed off on me in so many ways. You are my peace, my partner, and my sunshine.”

I swallow hard. “Amy. From the first time I saw ye, I knew ye were a fire I’d never be able ta look away from. Ye’ve changed my life. Not just because ye love me, but because ye see me. All o’ me. The career, the injury, the stupid sense of humor, the family mess.”

Mum frowns, but I ignore her.

“And ye still chose me. I promise ta love ye through every season, every match, every soggy floatin’ ceremony we ever have.

And I promise ta never stop makin’ ye laugh—even if it’s just ta distract ye from wantin’ ta throttle me.

I'm grateful yer the woman I'll walk through life wi'.

I'm thankful we get to be a we . I'm done bein' an I .”

A wave of laughter rolls across the rafts, followed by a collective “ aww ” from the iPad folks.

“Do you, Amy, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? For better, for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer, to love and to cherish, until parted by death?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Hamish, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? For better, for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer, to love and to cherish, until parted by death?”

“God, yes.”

Matt smiles. “By the power vested in me by the State of Maine, and in flagrant defiance of basic physics, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Hamish, you may kiss the bride and exchange rings once you float to her.”

I paddle my raft closer to hers and lean over with the ring pouch. She takes it from me, extracts the rings, and in an abundance of practicality, slips my ring on my finger and her own on hers, because if we have to do this floating, we’ll all end up in the soup.

Then I kiss her like I’ve just scored the final goal in extra time and the trophy is her.

Which it is.

Then a splash to my left.

Da has launched himself sideways, capsizin’ his and Mum’s raft. Mum surfaces a second later, sputtering.

“I swear, Fergus McCormick, I will haunt ye for eternity if this wig floats away!”

Jason, not to be outdone, flops off his cupcake raft and slips into the water like a happy beaver.

Off balance, Marie screeches and slides in right after him.

Soon it’s chaos—laughing, splashing, every raft overturned. Amy and I cling to each other, soaked and breathless with joy. This is why I love her. She put the rings on us so fast because she knew this was coming.

Matt, still knee-deep and somehow perfectly dry, raises his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the McCormicks. May their love be as wild and unpredictable as this ceremony, and may their towels be very, very absorbent.”

From the shore, Nessa waves a We Got Wet in Love You, Maine towel like a victory flag. Archie holds up one that says Love You Hot Springs: Take the Plunge .

And just like that, we’re married. Dripping. Floating. Overjoyed.

And together.

The iPad crowd erupts into cheers. Andrew even lifts one of his twins, Charlie or Will—I can never tell them apart—and pumps the poor bairn in the air like a championship trophy.

“We love you!” someone shouts. Could be one of Amy’s sisters or one of mine.

Close to shore, Matt’s grinning like a man who’s just finished baptizing an entire wedding party.

“Nessa,” he calls, “you coming in?”

She stands beneath the tent and shakes her head, the lone holdout, perfectly dry. “I’m working.”

"So am I," he cajoles. "Consider it a professional obligation." He extends his hand, beckoning.

She shakes her head again, but smiles.

Matt wades toward her anyway. Together on shore, they uncork a row of Champagne bottles chilling in heart-shaped ice buckets. The popping corks resound like tiny celebrations across the steam and laughter.

Nessa assembles trays of tall plastic flutes with grace and speed, each one fizzing with bubbly and crowned with a floating strawberry. She doesn’t spill a drop.

Da surfaces again like a sea monster with a white crown and looks toward shore. “Ah, when the alcohol has fruit in it, it’s a proper party!”

Within minutes, everyone’s got a glass in hand, in the water or perched carefully on a nearby rock. Even Nessa takes one, finally kicking off her shoes and stepping in up to her ankles.

I glance at Amy, who’s still glowing even with wet tendrils of hair around her face. I clear my throat and raise my glass, heart hammerin’ in time with the ripples of this wild, wet day.

“A toast,” I say, voice carrying over the splashes and fizz. “Ta love, first and always. And ta family, however stubborn and unpredictable they might be.”

Marie and Fiona exchange a look that says he's not wrong.

“Ta mothers who care a wee bit too much,” I add, smiling at Mum. “And fathers who let us find our own way.”

Da gives me a proud nod, his hand on Mum’s shoulder under the water.

“Ta Amy,” I say, looking right at her, “fer sayin’ yes. For makin’ me better. And fer joinin’ me in the weirdest weddin’ this side o’ the Atlantic.”

Everyone laughs, and she squeezes my hand under the surface.

“And lastly,” I finish, glass held high, “ta life. It might never go how we plan, but if we’re lucky, life’ll still lead us ta happiness.”

Glasses clink. Bubbles fizz. Steam rises.

And for one perfect moment, the hot springs echo with joy.