Page 76 of Mine
I look down at Aoife; she’s gnawing on her lower lip again. ‘I’ve got you sweetheart.’
She nods then, straightening her shoulders. ‘Did you pick this song?’ She whispers.
‘Yes,’ I smile down at her. ‘Wait until you hear what Ipicked for our first dance.’ My smile stretches into a full-blown grin as we step into the ballroom together.
White wicker chairs are arranged in rows of six on either side of the aisle. The registrar waits at the top of the room under a floral archway. Aoife’s cobalt eyes blow wide as she drinks in every detail. Her grip on my arm tightens as we stride slowly, purposefully along the aisle. Our guests ooh and ahh beside us.
Aoife’s focus remains rigidly on the registrar—a woman in her late forties with silver hair and sharp spectacles. When we reach her, Abby stands beside Aoife, and Ciaran stands beside me. The music fades to silence.
The registrar clears her throat. ‘Welcome, Dominic and Aoife.’ She smiles at us both in turn. ‘Are you ready to begin?’
Aoife unhooks her arm from mine. I take her hand and squeeze it in what I hope is a reassuring gesture. She trembles slightly but she doesn’t pull away. I tighten my grip, subtly trying to ground her, stroking my thumb over the back of her hand, her wrist, soothing that fluttering pulse point again.
She sucks in a breath. ‘Yes,’ Aoife nods to the registrar, who then begins the formalities.
It’s utterly surreal. I listen to readings about love. A poem Mama K insisted on reading. More music from the organ player, but I don’t—can’t—take my eyes from the stunning woman in front of me. The trust in her expression is my undoing.
I silently swear here and now to do everything in my power to give her the entire world.
Finally, we get to the vows.
‘Do you, Dominic Kincaid, vow to love, honour andprotect Aoife O’Shea? Cherish her and respect her for as long as you both shall live?’
There are two hundred people in the room, yet you could hear a pin drop.
I don’t hesitate. ‘I do.’
The registrar turns to Aoife. ‘Do you, Aoife O’Shea… vow to love, honour and protect Dominic Kincaid. Cherish him and respect him for as long as you both shall live?’
There’s the smallest pause.
Then her chin juts out. Her irises swarm with heat and that ever-present hint of vulnerability. ‘I do,’ she whispers.
Ciaran exhales loudly behind us.
‘Rings, please,’ the registrar says with a smile.
I pat my top pocket until I locate the wedding band I picked up last week—a five millimetre platinum band encrusted with enormous diamonds. No man in this world will be able to miss the fact that she’s mine.
I slide the ring gently onto her finger beside her engagement ring. My thumb brushes the inside of her wrist again. Her pulse thunders beneath my touch. I reach inside my pocket again, plucking out a second platinum band. It’s six millimetres wide, no diamonds but still utterly unmissable. I drop it into her palm. Our eyes meet again as she slowly slides it onto my finger.
The registrar beams at us.
‘By the authority vested in me…’ Her words blur.
All I see is Aoife. White chiffon. Blue eyes. Fire in place of her previous fear.
‘I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.’
Aoife’s eyes search mine. Then slowly she rises onto her tiptoes. I inch down to meet her in the middle until my lipsmeet hers. Her mouth is warm and soft and tastes like the sweetest sin. Her big blue eyes remain wide open, like she’s committing every second to memory. And right there—I see it.
Love.
She loves me.
She hasn’t said it, but she doesn’t have to.
Her lips part, and I sweep my tongue inside her mouth, sliding it against hers, publicly claiming her as my wife. Her body melts against mine like it has done so many times before, but this time it feels different. Sweeter.
