Page 22 of Marry Me Tomorrow
My hand tightens slightly at her waist. “Almost too fitting.” The irony isn’t lost on either of us. We aren’t dancing like love-struck fools swept up in the moment. This is a deal, a logical arrangement—one that makes perfect sense on paper.
The dance floor lights reflect off her hair while she spins, and I catch the faint scent of her floral perfume as she steps back against me. Spurred on by the energy of the moment, our dance movements turn instinctive and unrehearsed. “Careful, Jenny. Keep looking at me like that, and people might think this is real.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t step away. “Wouldn’t want that.”
Holding her close, I feel her warmth, and as I spin her again, her laughter rings out lightly and melodically. The flush on her cheeks deepens, and the smile on her face radiates pure joy. Her eyes meet mine, shining with a mix of surprise and something deeper.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost believe our engagement was real.
It feels real.
It feels like this isn’t just a marriage of convenience—it feels like there could be something more. Something genuine.
As the song slows, I pull her close for a gentle sway. Her hands rest lightly on my shoulders, and my arms encircle her as I guide her into a slow dance. The world narrows to just the two of us, the lyrics fading into the background as I dip her slightly at the end of the song.
The music dies out, and for a brief moment, there’s silence. Then, a smattering of applause erupts from the crowd, and I don’t need to look to know that the loudest applause is coming from our booth.
“Hi,” I say softly as Jenny stands upright, the warmth of her hand still lingering against mine. Her eyes sparkle under the lights, and I notice her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath.
“Hi,” she replies, her voice a mix of exhilaration and shyness. She leans in, her lips brushing my cheek in a quick, featherlight kiss. Her breath is warm against my skin as she whispers, “I think I want to marry you.”
At her perfect use of the lyrics from the song, a laugh bursts out of me, light and full of joy, as I sweep her into a hug. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and I lift her off the ground, spinning her in a full circle. Her laughter bubbles out, clear and bright, mingling with the distant hum of applause still lingering in the room. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re getting married then,” I say.
When I set her down, her cheeks are flushed, and her hair is slightly out of place. I lean in and tuck a stray hair behind her ear, my fingers grazing her soft skin. She lightly leans into my touch, her breath escaping in a quiet exhale. I can’t help but smile as I take her hand, threading my fingers through hers, and guide her off the dance floor. The faint vibrations of the wooden floor beneath our feet and the muted clink of glasses from the bar fill the space as the performers prepare for the next song in their set.
We weave through the crowd back to our table. The air around us feels warmer, the energy buzzing as if the entire room had been lifted along with our emotions.
When we reach our friends, their faces are glowing with excitement.
“I know you two are getting married soon,” Holly says, her voice thick with emotion as she dabs at a tear sliding down her cheek, “but that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That should be your first dance song,” Gwen says, giving us a half-smile. “I’ll add it to the wedding notes.”
“Mate,” says Niall, his grin stretching ear to ear, “that was bloody brilliant. You two have real chemistry on the dance floor.” He gives a dramatic nod toward Gwen. “Almost tops Gwen and me singing together for the first time. Almost, but not quite.”
“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes, “I think we were a hundred times better with our dancing, but I may be a bit biased.”
Jenny snickers and smacks me lightly on the arm. “Oh, you,” she says, her lips curving into a grin as she shakes her head.
I wake up the next day a little earlier than normal, and even though we were out late last night, there’s a renewed energy coursing through me. The air feels crisp and cool as I stretch, and a sense of calm replaces the weight that’s been pressing on me for months. Managing the marina, worrying about its future—everything suddenly feels like it’s going to work out.
Last night, when Jenny and I got back to the marina, we said good night under the glow of the dock lights. She headed back to her cabin, and I returned to my house, the echo of her laughter still lingering in the quiet night air.
Now, lying in bed, I can’t help but think about the changes ahead: planning a wedding, getting a ring, marrying Jenny, living together. Dude, I’m going to have a wife soon. The realization hits me like a wave, both thrilling and surreal.
That thought pulls me out of bed. Padding barefoot across the cool wooden floor, I head down the hall and peak into one of the spare bedrooms. It smells faintly of cedar and salt, like the rest of the cabin, but the space feels impersonal. Sunlight filters through the slats of the blinds, illuminating the neutral walls and simple furniture. It’s been a guest room for years, functional but uninspired. I look over the rest of my home, the loft, living area, and kitchen, and a thought hits me. This house looks just like my office, lacking a woman’s touch. But I guess that’s all about to change. I can’t wait to see how Jenny makes this house a home.
After getting ready for the day, I head toward the office. The crisp morning air greets me as I step outside, carrying the faint scent of seawater and freshly cut grass.
As I push open the store door, a familiar voice calls out, “Good morning!”
I glance up to see Jenny, radiant as ever, standing behind the counter. She waves, her smile bright and easy, and I feel a warmth that has nothing to do with the morning sun. She’s wearing jean shorts and a flowy white top, her hair pulled up in a slightly messy bun with loose strands framing her face. The urge to reach out and tuck those strands behind her ears is almost irresistible. Last night while we were dancing, there was a palpable physical connection, but I don’t want to scare her away by coming on too strong. So I resist the desire to touch her hair.
“Good morning,” I reply, my voice lighter than usual as I walk to the counter. “You’re in earlier than expected.”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, before continuing a song she was humming, her eyes twinkling. “I woke up at three this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. I had an idea for a painting and had to get started. I made a lot of progress and figured I should freshen up before meeting with your mom and Gwen. It wouldn’t do for the future bride to be covered in paint.”
She beams up at me, the image of her covered in paint making me smile. I imagine her in her element, focused and glowing, and my stomach flips at the thought. If she’s this captivating talking to customers and selling bait, I can only imagine how radiant she must be when she’s painting.
