Page 9 of Marrying the Accidental Groom
He studied her for a long moment, then gave that broad, almost mischievous smile she was starting to recognize. “Then I’m in.”
The ceremonial grove smelled like hibiscus and earthy soil.
Juliana stood barefoot in the soft dirt beneath a cluster of tall palms, her hands folded tightly in front of her. The air was thick with humidity, laced with something floral and sweet. Birds chirped in the branches above, the sound oddly cheerful given the twist in her stomach.
The officiant approached—a local elder in ceremonial robes, his weathered face kind and unreadable. He greeted them with a gentle nod and a few words in the island dialect before switching seamlessly to English. “Welcome,” he said, placing a carved pendant around each of their necks. “This ceremony honors union, blessing, and beginnings. We walk slowly, so the soul can catch up to the heart.”
Juliana swallowed hard.It’s just a cultural experience. Just a box to check,she reminded herself for the hundredth time.
Gideon stood beside her, quiet for once. His usual smirk had softened into something unreadable—attentive, maybe even reverent. She hated how comforting his presence felt. She said a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn’t been forced to show up to the ceremony alone.
The officiant motioned for them to follow, and they did, walking in silence down a narrow, flower-strewn path that opened gradually toward the sea.
Aisle markers of conch shells and woven palm leaves framed the walk ahead. The altar itself stood in the sand, draped in white linen and fresh orchids, the ocean stretching endlessly behind it.
Juliana’s chest tightened. She’d imagined this moment once—Leo waiting with her at the end of the aisle, both of them laughing softly at the ceremony’s pageantry, enjoying the beauty of the place and the symbolism of starting a life together.
That future had cracked like glass beneath her feet. And yet here she was. Still walking. Still standing.
The officiant began speaking in a low, rhythmic voice. Juliana focused on her breathing. On the warmth of the sun. On the way Gideon’s fingers brushed hers lightly as he accepted a lei from the woven basket between them.
She looked up, startled, but he was watching the officiant now, respectful and still.
This wasn’t real. And yet—itfeltreal.
4
GIDEON
Gideon had been to a lot of weddings in his life.
None of them involved bare feet, carved necklaces, or an officiant who smelled like coconuts and spoke in half-poetry. But standing beside Juliana in the golden light of the island’s late-afternoon sun, he thought this might be the most authentic one he’d seen.
Which was ridiculous, considering they weren’t even really getting married.
The ceremony was symbolic—Juliana had made that clear from the start. Over and over, actually. Just a cultural experience. A formality. A box to check.
But as they stood together on the sand, the waves crashing gently behind them and the scent of orchids heavy in the air, it didn’t feel symbolic. It felt...real.
Not in a legal sense. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t actually going to get married to an uptight woman he met in the airport yesterday. But the way she kept glancing at him like she couldn’t quite believe she was doing this—and maybe didn’t regret it as much as she’d planned to—yeah, that seemed real.
When the officiant placed the flower lei around Juliana’s neck and nodded toward him, Gideon stepped forward, hands steady. She watched him, not smiling exactly, but not frowning either. Her eyes were guarded but soft, like something inside her had loosened.
He liked that look on her. He liked that he’d been the one to draw it out.
The officiant’s voice was slow and melodic as he prompted them through the ceremony. The words were simple, but not shallow—timeless, maybe. Rooted in something older than either of them.
“I will walk in trust, even when the path is not clear,” Gideon repeated after him, voice steady. Juliana followed a breath behind.
“I will honor the journey—no matter how brief—with kindness, laughter, and grace.”
Gideon said the words. They felt like a promise to himself.
The final line came, simple but heavy. “I will bless what was, accept what is, and welcome what may come.”
Juliana’s lips moved, but her voice caught—just slightly, just long enough for him to notice. And it tightened something in his chest.
She had just started healing. Still carrying more weight than she let anyone see. While it wasn’t what he’d expected, Gideon was glad his trip had taken this turn.
