“And let’s just make that a motto for our marriage.”
Laughing, Braden nodded. “I can guarantee it.”
I gestured to our plans and gave him a smile. “So are we done for the night? Can we lounge in front of a movie now?”
“Definitely.”
Together, we cleaned our dishes and cleared the wedding plans away. Half an hour later we lay on the sofa together, my head on Braden’s chest, his arm around my back, as we watched an action movie on pay-per-view.
Forty minutes in, I tilted my head back to look into his face and said, “Sometimes I can’t believe that I get to do this with you for the rest of my life.”
Surprised at my sentiment, Braden looked at me, eyes glittering with amusement. “What? Watch a movie?”
“Yes,” I answered honestly. “Lie in your arms and watch a crappy movie. It might seem simple to other people, but it’s everything to me.”
The amusement left his expression, quickly replaced with something far more intense as he reached up to stroke my cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you’re quitting the bar.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. I’ve never liked you working there, and I miss you at the weekend.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you seemed happy. It’s sort of my life mission to make sure you stay that way,” he teased.
I grinned. “Gotcha. Well, mission accomplished. I have lots of new friends, so I don’t need the bar for a social life anymore. And I want to concentrate on my writing and on us. I’ll hand in my resignation this week.”
Braden nodded and squeezed me closer. “Sounds good, babe.”
Snuggling into him, I let out a contented sigh and turned my gaze back on the movie. “Pfft.”I mocked the screen as we soaked in each other’s warmth. “Like a cop would start shooting in a public place like that. What is this crap we’re watching?”
“Something about ‘everything to you,’ I believe.”
“Hmmph. Well, it will be if we become a little more discerning in our rental choices. Oh, God,” I groaned at the screen. “This guy is a tool.”
“Jocelyn?” Braden tightened his arm around me and I looked up at him to find him grinning. “Just so you know, this is everything to me too.” He bent down to give me a sweet kiss before turning back to the television. “Perhaps minus the commentary from the peanut gallery.”
Chapter 3
The Wedding
Clark, Ellie’s stepdad, and thus father figure to Braden and me, threaded my arm through his elbow and patted my hand in a comforting way.
At the gesture, I glanced sharply at his kind face. “What? Do I look nervous?”
He smiled softly at me. “A little.”
“I don’t want to look nervous,” I whispered back.
Although his mouth didn’t laugh, his eyes definitely did. “Just take a deep breath.”
We were standing out of view of the double doors that had opened up onto the red-carpeted aisle of the church and my bridesmaids were already walking their way up it. It was nearly my turn.
I couldn’t believe our wedding day was here already. It didn’t seem that long ago that I’d woken up the day after my engagement to Ellie knocking on my door with a bunch of bridal magazines in her hands. Although I’d had moments of doubt, I’d fiercely fought them back.
It was kind of a shock then to find myself standing at the bottom of the aisle, freaking out.
Fuckity, fuckity, fuck, fuck.
Deep breaths.
I could not have a panic attack. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Braden. The problem was I was terrified I was going to find some way to f**k it up. Even after months of proving to myself that I was capable of being in a committed, loving relationship, I was still afraid. I was afraid I was going to hurt him.
“What if I mess this up?” I murmured.
Clark’s hand tightened over mine. “It’s not going to be perfect because no marriage is. You’re going to fight, clash, say things you don’t mean . . . When you love someone, these things can happen. But, Joss”—he dipped his head to meet my gaze—“the good you two will have together, will always outweigh any bad.” He smiled. “And I think Braden’s proved there’s not much you can do to chase him off.”
“True.” I squeezed his hand and took a shuddering, deep breath. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s do this.”
The strains of the guitarist and violinist grew louder as the double doors swung open, their beautiful instrumental version of Paul Weller’s “You Do Something to Me” sending shivers up my neck. We stepped out onto the carpeted aisle of the church and at first all I could see was the flowers, the guests who had turned to stare at me, their approving smiles, their curiosity. At the squeeze of Clark’s hand around mine where I clutched fiercely to my bouquet of white lilies interspersed with thin reeds of champagne gold, I began to focus. My eyes found my bridesmaids, Ellie, Hannah, Jo, Rhian, and Liv, dressed in their floor-length champagne-colored dresses, looking elegant and happy. The closer we got I could see Ellie was tearing up. I caught Elodie in the front pews along with Cam; Cole; Jo’s Uncle Mick; his new girlfriend, Dee; Cam’s best friends, Nate and Peetie; and Peetie’s girlfriend, Lyn. I didn’t have any family here so we’d decided not to divide the room into groom and bride sides. Still, there were just my colleagues from Club 39. Everyone else was associates or friends of Braden and the Nichols family. And of course his vapid socialite mother hadn’t turned up. She was feeling under the weather. More like we’d met at Christmas last year and I’d made my distaste for her clear and vice versa.
My eyes found Adam and Dec, who were standing on the opposite side of the altar. They wore the same as Clark and Braden—what was referred to as a Prince Charlie gray jacket and matching three-button waistcoat. Their silk champagne ties were intricately knotted against their dark gray shirts, and because the Carmichaels were associated with the Stewart clan they were wearing a subdued Stewart gray tartan. Adam’s kind, bolstering smile finally made me look at Braden.
I almost faltered on the walk up the aisle.
The look in his eyes was like a physical pressure on my chest. The love there caused my throat to constrict and I leaned more heavily against Clark as I attempted to float toward Braden in my wedding dress. My dress was simple. It was strapless with a heart-shaped neckline, and the upper half of the bodice was ivory with crystal beading and lace. The finest white silk chiffon pulled across the bodice in a tight drape, fitted to my waist. From my h*ps the layers of chiffon, shot through with silver, fell to the floor in simple elegance. I could tell by the look on Braden’s face as Clark and I approached that he liked the dress.
Still shaking, I kissed Clark on the cheek, so honored that he’d walked me down the aisle in absence of my father. I thanked him sincerely, almost choking up at the sheen of wetness in his eyes as he handed me over to Braden.
Instead of turning me to face the minister, Braden took my hand and pulled me into his side, his eyes burning intensely into mine. His head lowered and I felt his warm breath on my ear, “You look stunning, sweetheart, but deep breaths. This is just you and me.”
“Tell that to the hundred people sitting behind us,” I told him a little shakily.
He chuckled, pressing an amused kiss to my mouth.
When he pulled back, Braden’s expression was reassuring as he murmured against my lips, “I love you, you love me, our family loves us and they’re right here beside us. Nothing else matters. So no fears for the future, no fear that you’ll f**k it up beyond repair. Life isn’t perfect, we aren’t perfect, but I’m telling you now, Jocelyn, we’re indestructible. Stop shaking, and just marry me.”
I pressed deeper into him, brushing my mouth over his. “You got it.”
The minister cleared his throat, drawing my and my smiling groom’s attention back to the ceremony and out of the little bubble we’d been in. I heard our guests titter behind us and the music stopped.
This was it.
***
There was something a little surreal about sitting next to Braden at the top table, my wedding band sitting prettily against my engagement ring, everyone referring to us as husband and wife, and people being cute and calling me Mrs. Carmichael instead of Joss. It was weird. But the good kind of weird.
Our wedding reception was held at the Balmoral Hotel. The banquet suite was this grand hall with tall ceilings, pillars, elaborate chandeliers, and huge arched windows with views of Edinburgh Castle. It was stunning and classy and beyond anything I’d ever imagined for this moment.
After dinner, Clark tapped his champagne flute, drawing everyone’s attention as he stood up to give his father-of-the-bride speech. I’d told him he didn’t have to, but he said he wanted to. And watching how comfortable he was as he lifted the mic, I knew as a university professor he wasn’t that daunted having to talk to a large crowd of people.
I didn’t know what to expect from Clark’s speech. I felt butterflies in my stomach as he smiled down at Braden and me.
“Braden is one of the finest men I know.” He began. “He’s a son to me. And he’s a friend. So when it became clear that what he and Joss had together was something special, I couldn’t have been more delighted for him. Because Jocelyn is without a doubt one of the strongest, most extraordinary young women I have ever met.”
Jesus C.
I swallowed past the hard lump of emotion in my throat, leaning into Braden, who automatically wrapped an arm around me without my even having to ask.
“I am sorry that your dad can’t be here with you on this day, Joss,” Clark continued, his voice low with enough emotion that it threatened to spill the tears over my lids, “but I know that he would be so proud of you for the woman you’ve become, and so happy that you’ve found a family in Braden, and in us. I was honored to walk down the aisle with you for him. Tonight”—he lifted his glass, turning to our guests—“I ask you all to raise your glasses to my son and daughter. To Braden and Jocelyn.”
As everyone said our names in unison, lifting their glasses to us, I fought back the tears. Just barely.
The truth was I did feel part of the Nichols’s family. But it was kind of more than a little beautiful that the Nichols family thought of me as part of them.
Next to stand up was Adam as Braden’s best man. He lightened the mood, joking about his and Braden’s past, about Braden’s reputation with women, how different he was with me, and how much fun he had had watching Braden work his ass off to get me. Upon Adam raising his glass to us in toast, Braden kissed me, waited for his best man to sit down, and then stood up himself.
I looked up at him. More than anything I wanted the reception to be over; I wanted to not be center of attention anymore. Mostly, I just really wanted to be alone in a room with my new husband.
Braden stood tall in his kilt, looking every inch the delectable Scotsman, and he stared out at the room with a familiar air of intimidating confidence. “Over two and a half years ago,” he began, his voice deep, his tone serious, “I shared a taxi with a complete stranger. A young woman with a smart mouth and”—he smirked down at me—“a great pair of legs.”