“I love you, Brick. Always. Forever. Fiercely,” she promised as their bodies trembled against each other.

He’d never tire of hearing that.

“I love you, Remington.”

When she walked down the aisle to him, it was with his pink handprint on her ass.

Brick got a little teary-eyed when she made her promises to him in front of their family and friends and broke protocol by kissing her as soon as she’d said her vows. His father and Gilbert Ford blew their noses noisily from the front row.

“You look happy, husband,” Remi said that night as they danced under the stars to “Harvest Moon.”

Other couples shared the dance floor with them, Kyle and Kimber, Remi’s parents, Carlos and Camille, Audrey and Spencer. But he saw only Remi.

“I’m surprised they let you come back here,” Brick teased. “Last time you were at a wedding here, didn’t you get arrested?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that,” she said breezily. “I think for this to be a real full-circle moment, you’re probably going to have to use your handcuffs tonight.”

Her smile was so beguiling he picked her up in his arms and twirled her around. This woman. His wife.

“I’m afraid to blink,” he confessed.

“Why?” she laughed.

“I’m afraid I’ll blink, and the whole day will vanish like the dreams I used to have of you.”

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” she said, her voice breathy.

“Let’s start now,” he suggested, closing his mouth over hers.

* * *

Fifteen years earlier…

“You don’t look like a William,” the tiny redhead mused as she peered up at him. Sixteen and pretty as the little island they now officially called home.

“What’s he look like? Do I look like a Spencer?” His brother demanded, hopping from foot to foot on the boardwalk.

Those green eyes flicked back to his brother, and she grinned. “You’re definitely a Spencer.”

Will felt something warm and good when she returned her gaze to him. It was foreign to him. Most people looked at him and saw a carbon copy of his father. William Eugene Callan III most likely had the same destiny as William Eugene Callan II.

Cocking her head, she studied him leisurely as the popsicle stained her lips red. “Brick.”

“Brick?”

Her lips spread in a wide, sunny smile.

“As in masonry?” he asked.

“As in durable. Strong. Stoic.”

“Our dad’s in jail,” Spencer announced.

“Spence.” Will sighed. How in the hell was he supposed to make a fresh start if his brother was just going to tell everyone all about their past?

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s a nice jail.”

He blinked. This girl was something all right.

“Will—I mean, Brick says we shouldn’t talk about it because people will think we’re tainted or something,” Spencer said, shuffling his weight from foot to foot.

“Well, that’s just silly,” she announced. “How boring would it be if we all just went around pretending to be perfect? It’s things like your dad being in jail or me seeing music that make us interesting. Interesting is way more fun than perfect.”