“No, Judge. I apologize . . . my wife-to-be and I got a little carried away with our greeting.” He tilted his head and murmured, “Neither the first nor the last time, actually.”

“At least we know what we’re getting into,” I said, and beside me Sara laughed. I handed her my bouquet and turned to face Bennett as he took hold of my hands.

And once I was up there with him, I wanted to savor every second. The judge read through his opening readings about love, and marriage. I absorbed every word, somehow, while still being completely lost in the intensity of Bennett’s expression.

As I recited my vows, I felt him shift closer, relished the warm hum of his skin pressed to mine where our hands met.

When it was his turn, I watched his lips as he repeated every single vow:

I promise to be your lover and friend . . .

Your ally in conflict and your accomplice in mischief . . .

Your greatest fan and your toughest adversary . . .

His eyes twinkled and he tickled the palm of my hand with the pad of his thumb when he said this, and then, very slowly, he looked down at my mouth and licked his lips.

The bastard.

His eyes darkened and his voice lower when he repeated, I promise to be faithful, loyal, and put your needs above all others . . . this is my vow to you, Chloe, my only lover and my equal in all things.

Suddenly my dress felt cinched too tight. The breeze off the water seemed too weak.

The officiant turned to me and asked, “Chloe, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To honor and cherish him, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish always?”

The first time I tried to push the words out, they got stuck beneath the weight of emotion in my throat. Finally, I managed, “I do.”

He turned and asked Bennett the same thing, and without hesitation, Bennett’s deep voice easily carried the two life-altering syllables: “I do.”

We each turned, he to Henry, and I to Sara, to retrieve our wedding rings. And as the judge spoke to us about the meaning of the rings, and I slid Bennett’s onto his finger, the only thing I could feel was the brilliance of Bennett’s smile as he stared down at it.

Damn, that ring looked good on his finger. This man was officially mine. If I couldn’t get my face tattooed on his arm, this ring would be a nice consolation prize. I moved my fingertip over his, feeling the smooth metal on his skin, but he pulled back a little, resisting my touch as his eyes went wide, just as my finger made contact with an enormous scratch in the platinum.