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Sydney
“Do you take this woman to be your forever? Because doesn’t that encompass everything?” Graham states, glancing at Max. I roll my eyes. Leave it to Graham to change the traditional vows.
Why did I ask him to marry us? Right. Because I love him like a brother.
When Max looks at me, those steel-blue eyes that stole my heart, captured my soul and made me feel again softens as he says, “Yes. I will love you, cherish you, remain true to you as long as I live.”
“Sk—” Graham stops and shakes his head and I smile, giving him a reassuring nod. This is the first time he’s used my name since I crashed into his home so I’m not surprised. “Sydney, do you take this man to be your forever?”
We decided not to do our own vows. Max would rather show me how he feels than tell me in front of everyone. He said he doesn’t need to prove it to them. Instead, we each picked out a song to dedicate to each other at the reception.
“Yes. I will love you, cherish you and remain true to you as long as we both shall live.”
As we exchange rings, tears blur my vision and I swallow the emotions getting the best of me. Max cups my neck, his thumb wiping a tear away. Leaning his forehead against mine, he whispers, “I love you, Tink. You’ll never know how much my heart beats for just you.” The tears run down my cheek. “Thank you.” I lift my head, our lips are a whisper away as we close in.
“Stop!”
We freeze, our lips barely touching. “You can’t take this away from me. Okay, Max, you may now kiss your bride,” he proudly announces. Max smirks right before he fuses his lips to mine. The world ceases to exist for a couple moments. It’s just us. Two lost souls twisting together. Our new song begins, and it encompasses our past, present and future. Do you feel it? I want to ask him. I want to know if it’s as loud and clear to him as it is to me.
Claps and whistles seep into our bubble until it’s so loud we don’t have a choice but to let it envelop us. “I love you, too,” I say, breaking away. The attendees jump to their feet in the little white church house, cheering as Max and I turn, hand in hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I proudly present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw.”
“Are we done yet?” Max walks up behind me and whispers into my ear. I tilt my head, leaning back into him as he nibbles my lobe. Spinning in his arms, I smile up at the gorgeous man. He’s lost his tie somewhere, the top couple buttons open. He rolled his sleeves up, displaying his tattoo and the veins in his forearms. I cup his chiseled jaw, his five o’clock shadow tickles my palms. “Please?”
“The reception started fifteen minutes ago and you look like you’ve had a rough night already.”
“You know how much I hate these penguin suits.”
“But you look sexy as hell,” I purr.
“That’s not making me want to stay longer.” His voice is deep and pleading, he grabs my hands and brings them to his chest. “This holding out bullshit hasn’t made tonight easy. Seeing you in that dress, it’s fucking killing me.”
“Holding out?” I laugh. “Max, it’s been one night.” The flash of a camera lights up Max’s face. This will always be known as the picture where he’s begging for sex. I almost feel sorry for him.
“See. Killing me,” he snickers, pulling me to his chest. We sway to the song playing. “But I’ll wait. It just gives me time to devise my plan of action.”
“You sound like you’re saving someone.” I giggle into his chest.
“I am. Me.”
And he says I’m dramatic.
Our night continues as we float around the room, twinkling lights above our head, moving from table to table to greet everyone. In between tables, Max throws out a word. A hint at what he’s planning. So far, I’ve heard handcuffs, wedding cake icing, blindfold, ice, balcony, anal. Anal? I tense at the last hint, staring up at his lazy smile, slightly panicked. Max is not a small man. Anywhere.
He lifts a shoulder in a non-committal shrug, guiding me to the next table like what he just said was as casual as let’s eat. “Just thinking out loud,” he whispers into my ear.
I adjust the tight-fitted lace dress against my heated body, wondering why I picked such a form-fitting dress. The only part that flares out is the bottom. I wanted simple, but as soon as I put on the vintage fit and flare lace dress, I fell in love. This morning, Graham set up a dress fitting for all us girls with seamstresses ready to make any adjustments. Most of them didn’t need any since Graham had been sneaky and got all the girls’ sizes beforehand. He had a few dresses I had already picked out, flown in from Los Angeles.
Max’s hand rests on my ass as we talk to a few of the band members and their dates. We don’t stay long as we want to talk to everyone who came out on such a last-minute notice.
“Helicopters.” Harper beams, pointing up to the ceiling. “It’s crazy, there are helicopters outside, trying to get a shot of you two. This is so cool.” I giggle at her excitement. I’m used to it now, nothing surprises me.
“It’s all because I’m marrying hashtag AMA’s most wanted.” I air quote the name I know he hates.
“I’m going to hashtag your ass if you call me that again.” He yanks me against his hard chest, his eyes bore into me. I lift a brow in defiance.
“What exactly would you hashtag on my ass?” I snicker.
