“How do you know?” I said, leaning into his kiss.

He looked down to me and touched my cheek. “Otherwise Eli wouldn’t have done it.”

“Oh,” I said, my eyes wandering until I found Lillian. “Of course.”

Lillian hugged her son, and then me. Her sweet, energetic smile lit up the island. I watched and waited, wondering if she realized she’d been in Gabriel’s presence just moments before.

“What is it?” she said, half curious, half amused.

“Nothing,” I smiled. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Not as much as I,” she winked.

Jared and I traded glances, wondering if she’d just given us a clue.

“Cynthia!” Beth called. “Stand beside Nina and I’ll take a picture of the couple with their mothers.”

Cynthia fidgeted with her hair, and then took her place beside me, poised and proper. I hooked my arm around her waist, and she stiffened when I pulled her closer.

“Smile!” Beth said, snapping a picture.

A few of the locals gathered on the street, their warm, smiling faces interlacing with the familiar faces our friends and family. They began clapping and singing, and then one of the grandmothers waved us with her hands, encouraging us to walk. Jared tugged on my hand, and we walked to the street. I laughed with surprise and excitement when I realized they were following us, their hands clapping to the beat of their happy song. Our guests’ white faces were littered among the brown, sun-kissed skin of the townspeople. They followed us to a makeshift downtown, where a small group of men played music.

“You did this?” I asked Jared.

He smiled, amazed. “No. This one I didn’t do.”

We laughed together, amazed at the random celebration that grew around us. Jared pulled me to the center of the street, where we danced to the strumming guitars and hand-tapped percussion. Chad and Beth joined us, as did Luke and Maryse. Bex pulled his mother into the dirt street as well. If I didn’t know better, I would have felt badly for Cynthia, but I knew she preferred to stand away from the nonsense. Perfectly still.

The afternoon sun was warm, and my wedding dress wasn’t built to breathe in the Caribbean humidity. Jared sensed my dilemma and nodded, providing me a seat in the shade. An elderly woman brought me a fan with a smile of understanding. The band played on, and the townsfolk and our guests danced into the evening, long after the makeshift street lamps and hanging lights turned on to flicker and twinkle against the night.

“How do you feel?” Jared asked, handing me another glass of water.

“Good,” I smiled, taking a sip. “I feel good.”

“Feel like dancing?” he said. Jared gestured to the band, and it slowed the beat.