Page 183 of Banter & Blushes

She sang the chorus again and I tried to commit every word to memory. Then the last two lines came, and I almost lost my composure.

I was steady like the shoreline, safe and sure

You were wild like the waves… and I love you more.

Wow.

Those lyrics could have been written for Arwyn and me. I was the wild waves upon her shore, and she provided a loving home for the girls and I when we were the most lost. And the morning daisy bit? How had I never heard this song before? Daisies had become our thing. I tipped Arwyn’s chin up so I could look into her eyes. A silent promise passed between us.

For the billionth time, I thanked God for sending her to us.

Meemaw sniffed behind us, breaking the moment. “Oh, I’m not crying. There’s just too much love in the air, and it got in my eyes.”

Molly was with her, and she grinned. “Sure, Meemaw. Want me to grab you another blueberry sweet tea to help with that?”

Meemaw winked at her. “Make it a double.”

CHAPTER 12

ARWYN

The morning sun glowed golden over the cove, casting a warm shimmer on the gentle waves lapping playfully at the shore. A scattering of boats bobbed lazily in the distance, their sails white against the horizon. The sky, a brilliant powder blue, stretched endless and cloudless, and the salty breeze carried the trademark refreshing scent of the Atlantic. Seagulls squawked overhead, their cries mingling with the rhythmic and steady hush of the tide. In the water, the lighthouse served as a silent witness to the day’s promises.

Blooming beach roses and sun-dried seaweed blended with the salty air, while the occasional puff of warm wind carried a faint scent of blueberry scones from the diner. The breakfast treat called to mind that fateful cinnamon roll that ruined my dress during a game of coffee shop keep-away. I would have kept avoiding Zaki forever if our friends hadn’t intervened when he needed a nanny. I’d done something I’d vowed to never do—judge a book by its cover or, in this case, a pro athlete by his playful disaster. Zaki was loud, excitable, and held a firm air of self-confidence—everything I was sure I’d dislike.

I’d been wrong, of course. Hewasall of those things, but he was also so much more. He’d broken my prejudicial stereotypes, led me into the unknown, and encouraged me to be vulnerable. I was no longer terrified of how much space he took up or how loud and crazy he could get. He inspired me to take risks, let my hair down—and even, on occasion, wear jeans.

I chuckled to myself at that last thought. My younger self wouldn’t have believed it, nor the fact that I was hopelessly in love with a sporty guy. Especially one as impulsive as Zaki. But I’d learned impulsivity wasn’t always bad; it often led to beautiful discoveries, picture-perfect moments, and unforgettable memories.

Like yesterday, when he showed up after the tea party with a silver daisy-chain tiara. It was the perfect accessory for my hair since I’d decided to save my great-grandmother’s veil for our church wedding.

The bodice was reimagined from my mother’s early-nineties gown. I’d kept the puffed sleeves but toned them down and removed much of the lace applique over the satin, keeping it to the heart-shaped neckline and down the center. The full skirt from the early 1960s had only reached my ankles, but once I added the scalloped trim, it grazed my toes at full length. I’d use fabric from the skirt of Mom’s dress to make the train in the coming weeks.

I’d secretly embroidered a daisy at the nape of my neck, where Zaki like to brush soft kisses when I wore my hair up. I shivered, thinking of the kisses we’d share later and what he might think when he found the floral symbol of our love.

In my hands I held two bouquets of salt mist roses and daisies. Yesterday morning, after the arch painting, the florist arrived and our moms helped each the girls construct and tie one half of the bouquet, which I would give to them to keep after the ceremony. One bouquet was wrapped in pale blue to match Isla’s dress and Amelie’s in mint green to match hers. They’d worn their hair down and opted to wear both the tiaras and Taylor’s bows, which wouldn’t surprise anyone that knew them.

As I followed them down the wooden steps, my gaze swept over the small crowd of friends and family, seeking out and finding Zaki. Our eyes locked across the distance, and my fingers gripped the railing just a little tighter with my non-bouquet hand to keep my balance. Last night had been the first we’d spent apart since the road trip began, and his absence in the cottage kept me awake.

He wore a tailored tan suit that hugged him in all the right places—familiar, like his usual pre-game attire, but softer somehow, and the absence of his tie made it feel more intimate. Instead, his crisp white shirt was open at the collar, its first two buttons undone, just enough to make my pulse speed up. The jacket clung to his broad shoulders and those strong, safe arms I knew so well, its fabric stretching just slightly across his middle with one single shiny button holding it all together. His typically tousled auburn hair was parted to the side and coaxed into a style that tamed his curls but still gave off an air of playfulness.

Oh my.I couldn’t look away. Straight twenty-first century dapper he was, and I nearly swooned. This was the man I loved—dashing, unpredictable, and one hundred percent Zaki—and in mere minutes, one hundred percent mine.

When he turned to speak to Ryan, we lost the connection, and my hearthammered with its absence and the anticipation of closing the distance between us.

Framing him and the pastor was a natural arch constructed of driftwood, adorned with wildflowers in soft blues, creams, and blush pinks. I could just make out a sprinkling of daisies tucked into two nautical knots, one on each side. Did the structure belong to the resort? The church? Or had someone made it for us?

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Zaki’s eyes were on me again, and this time, they held fast. I slid out of my shoes and stepped onto the sun-warmed sand to begin the walk toward him down the short aisle. Flowing white sashes fluttered gently, knotted to the aisle-side chairs and connected by daisy chains. Ahead of me, Isla and Amelie scattered shiny seashells and rose petals on either side of my path. The sparkles caught the sunlight, adding a touch of magic underfoot.

Off to the side on a teak platform, Harbor Lights provided the soundtrack. That was a fun surprise! Macy’s two brothers strummed acoustic guitars as she finished up the lyrics to the wedding version of “Ordinary” by Alex Warren.

Laffy and Vennie sat proudly at Zaki’s feet, each wearing a circlet of coordinating wildflowers around their necks. He handed their leashes to the girls, and they turned to join their grandparents in the front row off Zaki’s shoulder. On the bride’s side of the aisle were my mom, Shanna and her family, including her parents who babysat me after school when I was young and gave me my first job. Our mutual friends were scattered on both sides, and the sheer number of them who traveled to be here for our last-minute nuptials brought tears to my eyes.

Those tears spilled over as I met Zaki’s gaze again. It was intense and felt like it reached my soul.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he whispered. “I’m marrying you twice.”

“You are. But I am, too. I’m glad I said yes.”

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