Page 88 of I Wish He Would

“Then how am I supposed to know how to lace this up?” I hold up both ends of the fabric like they’re a horse’s reins.

She walks me through it, and once she’s securely in her dress, I brush her hair aside and press a kiss to the back of her neck. Then I step back and admire her. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

Alyssa blushes at the compliment. “Not in the last hour.”

“Because you were in the bathroom getting ready.” I grab her hands and pull her toward me.

“It takes time to look this good.”

“You look just as beautiful when you first wake up.”

She places her hands on her hips. “That’s what every girl who spent a bunch of time getting ready wants to hear.”

“I love that you like doing your hair and dressing up, but it’s like I said before—you’re my favorite in every form.”

“I guess I need to keep the dictionary police on speed dial,” she teases.

“Can you ask them to create a word that means even more than beautiful, gorgeous, or stunning while you’re at it? Because I could really use a new word to add to my vocabulary when trying to describe you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm.” I wrap my hands around her lower back. “To go along with all the other words I’d use.”

“Such as?”

“Ambitious. Thoughtful. Compassionate. Talented. Easygoing. My girlfriend.” I smile. “Just to name a few.”

Alyssa rises on her toes and presses her lips to mine. I kiss her back with the reverent fervor she deserves. When we pull apart, she groans. “Do we have to go?”

I brush a curl back from her face. “Everyone will talk about where we are.”

“Let them talk.”

“What about dinner?” Her stomach growls in response. “I think your stomach has spoken.” I brush my knuckle along her cheek. “Besides, we can resume this”—I lean back in for a lingering kiss—“later.”

She beams at me. “I like the sound of that.”

Lucky for us, we have a whole lot of laters and tomorrows to spend making up for lost time.

Last night just might win the gold medal for the best night of my life. I got to spend the entire evening with Alyssa on my arm. Listening to her sparkling laughter. Holding her hand beneath the table at dinner. Watching her unrestrained joy as she talked to her family—as she smiled at me.

Then, once we got back to the hotel room, she changed into my shirt before we alternated between kissing, talking about everything and nothing all at once, and eating a room service cookie platter. I learned my lesson earlier this week, so I only had a bite. The taste of the chocolate on her lips was enough to satisfy my sweet tooth.

This morning I ran out to grab her daily iced toasted-coconut coffee, and when I returned to find her curling her hair again for the wedding, it felt both intimate and comfortable. Like this is the morning routine we’ve had for years, but I still recognized how special it is to see her in moments like this. To be the man who gets to watch her wake up, get ready for the day, wash her face, and wear my shirt to bed at night.

Now, holding Alyssa’s hand during the wedding ceremony, I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to spend forever like this in our own paradise. It’s the kind of routine a guy could get used to.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant says from the raised stage. With the beach as a background and a floral-covered arch surrounding them, Bradley and Bianca lean in for a chaste kiss. It looks stilted and awkward, lacking passion and emotion. I can’t say I can relate, not after the ones Alyssa and I have shared.

I turn to her, raising our joined hands to my mouth. I brush my lips against her knuckles.

She leans her head on my shoulder as the bride and groom are announced and walk back down the aisle.

I press my cheek against the top of her head, thinking about how that could be us someday. Except we wouldn’t be able to restrain our smiles—our joy. And Hayden would definitely be wolf whistling or cheering right about now.

“I’m shocked there aren’t twenty peacocks here,” I whisper.

Alyssa covers her mouth to muffle her laughter. “Or ice sculptures.”