“It’s my wedding day,” I pointed out. “I’m allowed to look at my wife however I want.”
“Wife.” Tom shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day. Nate Colson, domesticated.”
“I’m not domesticated.”
“You’re wearing a tie.”
“It’s a wedding. People wear ties to weddings.”
“You’re wearing a tie willingly. And you smiled during the ceremony. In front of people.”
I had smiled. Couldn’t help it. The moment Ellie had appeared at the end of the aisle in that simple white dress that made her look like an angel, I’d forgotten there was anyone else in the world.
“She looks beautiful,” Tom continued, following my gaze back to where my wife, damn I still couldn’t get over that, was laughing with her maid of honor. “Happy.”
“She is.” I couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “We both are.”
“Good. You deserve it.” Tom knew my story. The injury, the recovery. He’d offered me the guide job to get me out of my cabin.
“Thanks,” I said simply.
“Don’t thank me. Thank the woman who was brave enough to hook you.” He laughed at his pun. I’d been hearing variations of it the entire day. But I didn’t mind. Not when I watched Ellie escape her conversation and make her way toward me, weaving between tables full of wedding guests. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, and that white dress moved around her like water.
“Gentlemen,” she said when she reached us, sliding her arms around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Having fun?”
“Your husband was just telling me how domesticated he is.”
Ellie snorted. “Domesticated? This man still leaves his wet towels on the bathroom floor and thinks cereal counts as dinner.”
“See?” Tom, a man married for over thirty years, spread his hands. “Domesticated.”
“I prefer selectively civilized.” I pulled Ellie closer.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” She looked up at me with those brown eyes that still made my chest tight. “What about this morning when you growled at the mailman for taking too long?”
“He was looking at you.”
“He was delivering our mail, Nate. It’s literally his job.”
“He was taking his time about it.”
Tom laughed. “Definitely domesticated. Next thing you know, you’ll be coaching Little League.”
“Don’t push it,” I warned, but I was thinking about the conversation Ellie and I had had last week about maybe, someday, expanding our family. The thought of little girls with her eyes or little boys with her stubborn streak didn’t scare me as much as it should have.
Tom congratulated us one more time, kissed Ellie, and moved away, leaving us alone.
“I should go check on the cake,” Ellie said, but she didn’t move away from me.
“The cake’s fine.”
“And the photographer wants a few more shots of us—”
“The photographer can wait.”
“Nate,” she laughed. “We have guests.”
“We have a tent full of people who are perfectly capable of entertaining themselves. Besides, I have something more important to discuss with my wife.”
