Page 63 of The Forgotten SEAL
Gently he places his hand on the side of my face. I lean into it and release a sigh of contentment.
“I don’t care what they think. I need you,” I whisper, eyes still closed.
Smith kisses me. A soft flutter of his lips on mine. “I don’t want to ruin your makeup. You look like a work of art.”
I lean into him and kiss him one more time. The response he has on me is immediate. My heart rate slows, and my nerves disappear.
He’s had one hand behind his back since we met. “Are you going to give me that surprise or what?” I ask.
He clears his throat and his face goes solemn. Eyes down, he brings his hand in front of him. It’s a bouquet of intricately folded paper flowers. “This is your bouquet,” he says, meeting my gaze.
“They are absolutely beautiful,” I say, reaching out for them. I want to look more closely. They truly are stunning. The petals are meticulously folded and curled, and the stems long and detailed.
He shakes his head and draws one out of the bunch and hands it to me. “There is a flower in this bunch for every one of our most cherished memories,” he says, clearing his throat again. I look closer at the one he just put in my hand, and the world tilts on its axis.
“Never Forever,” I say, tears springing to my eyes. “Pages fromNever Forever?”
“You’re holding the first time we met,” he explains. “And this one is folded from the pages of our first kiss.” He extends another black-and-white bloom. I take it and put it next to the other one.
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe you did this,” I say. “No one has ever done anything this special for me before in my life.” The significance is so profound I’m sure no one ever will.
“No one has given me a love story,” Smith replies. “Our first,ahem,” he says, smirking. “That one was a challenge to fold. I kept wanting to take a break to uh, take care of business.”
I laugh and cover my mouth with my free hand.
“I spent about twenty hours on YouTube figuring out how to fold them perfectly. It’s your bridal bouquet. I wanted to do your words justice.”
I squint down at the three flowers and see words that trigger the memories. He hands me another one, and I add it to the bunch, the paper smooth against my hand and the words bleeding into my heart. “I love you,” I tell him in a silent lull before he hands me the last one. He doesn’t give it to me, though. He tucks it in his back pocket and extends me his bent arm.
“Let’s get married first. I’m going to keep this one for good luck.”
I wipe away a few more stubborn tears and take his proffered arm.
Linked, we walk down the grass-carpeted aisle up to our tree. My friend plays the violin, a sweet melody that carries on the cool air, and Poppet stands next to Jasmine. The officiant is waiting with a smile on her face and a book in her hand. We exchange very simple vows. Vows that bind us. Vows that will keep up. Vows that we will forever treasure and, most importantly, honor.
It’s a short ceremony that tastes like a sweetness I never dared to dream of. It sounds like a light breeze and birds chirping. It fills me completely with a profound sense of self. When Smith leans over and kisses me after we are declared man and wife, I know without a shadow of a doubt life dealt me a certain hand so I would grasp my future tightly—cherish it fully.
We’ve greeted our few guests, and they have left to head to the restaurant where we will all celebrate. Smith and I steal a quick moment by the tree, holding each other close and talking about the ceremony. Moose cleans up chairs while keeping a hawk-like gaze on Megan and her clipboard-wielding hands. Smith’s family, all of them, were the most happy about our union. We laugh at the fact that his nephew fell over his own two feet while heading down to his seat, and we kiss when we talk about our first kiss as a married couple.
“Let me ask you a question,” Smith says.
I fold my arms across my chest in mock irritation. “I’m the one who asks the questions around these parts. Or have you already forgotten in the cloud of maritalbliss?”
“Would you have married the person if a different man answered your in search of ad?” he asks, keeping his mouth in a tightly drawn line. I see the smile in his eyes, though.
I scoff. “That’s offensive, but I still love you,” I proclaim. I run my hand down the front of his suit and stop right at his waistband. “You’re the only one I want to undress tonight.” I bite my lip and cock my head to the side.
“I know.” A smile appears on his face. It’s a little crooked. “I love you, too.” He extends the last flower to me and sighs deeply.
“This one is our happily ever after,” he says.
I shake my head. “Not inNever Forever.” The editors wouldn’t let me change that ending in a million years. It’s what made it so memorable.
Smith shifts from one foot to the other. Looking over my shoulder and then meeting my gaze, he explains, “I wrote it myself.”
I widen my eyes in shock and immediately look down at the typed words on the last flower, squinting to see anything that might spoil the plot. “I can’t open it or I’ll ruin the flower!” I say, turning it over to look at the bottom and carefully peeking in the center of the folds.
Smith laughs and takes my face in his. With his beautiful eyes boring into my own, he says, “That’s the point, Care. That’s the whole point.”
I nod, put the flower in the bunch, and let fate weave its way into our hearts.
Always Forever,
Greenleigh Ivers