“Whoa! Okay, pause right there.” I leaned back and gripped the front of his shirt at the same time. “You had me at I do. Just keep repeating that, and we’ll be golden.”

***

Alex held my hand as we exited the car and walked toward the boat. He stood a little in front of me. I allowed him to take the lead, take charge. I sensed he needed to feel in control, even if the control were merely an illusion.

Because, let’s face it, I was in control. He’d bent to my will. If I had a sinister mustache, I might have twirled it.

It was bitterly cold, especially on the short pier that led to a massive dinner cruise liner. Thankfully, the pier was wider than it was long. Lake Michigan was less choppy than usual; under the moonlight, its typical grayish blue was colored a murky indigo that reflected our silhouettes.

Clear skies above allowed the stars—faint due to the lights of the city—to peek through. Snow was expected in a few hours. By then, we might already be married.

Married.

I spied Nico, Elizabeth’s celebrity husband, a short distance away, talking to a group of uniformed people. They looked like sailors, and I recognized that they were in costume. He was pointing to us—to Alex and me.

Nico waved his hand, a signal that we should approach.

I was happy to see that he was there. To my delight, Alex also appeared to be pleased by the sight of him. The Italian Stallion—as I may have called him once or twice—reached for and shook Alex’s hand as soon as we were near. It was done with the enthusiasm and affection of two friends meeting again after a long separation.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Alex. It’s good to see you again. I trust you enjoyed the fritters.” Nico’s grin was immense and apparently contagious, because Alex returned it.

“Yes. They were good.”

“Everyone else is already on board. Let me be the first to offer my congratulations.” Nico ushered us onto the boat, walked with us as though he were giving us a personal tour of his yacht. “I’d also like to offer my services as best man, if needed.”

I tried to lift my eyebrows in surprise, but found my face frozen. Therefore, I wrinkled my nose, wiggled my chin in an attempt to thaw both.

When he wanted to, Nico exuded illegal levels of charisma. To my astonishment, Alex was not immune.

Alex’s shoulders relaxed a bit, his expression one of genuine gratitude. “Oh, yeah. That would be great.”

“Excellent.” Nico clapped him on the shoulder. “I won’t let you down.”

I glanced between Alex and Nico, agog. It was the birth of a bromance if ever I’d seen one.

The sounds of knitting group chatter hit a crescendo behind me. I turned to discover that Nico had led us to a private dining room about thirty by thirty feet in size. It was on the top level of the liner, with panoramic views of Lake Michigan, Grant Park, and the lights of downtown Chicago beyond.

The ladies were huddled to one side, having knotted themselves in a tight circle around something of intense interest. I began to walk toward them, but Alex’s hand halted my progress. He wrapped his arm around me and held my hand hostage behind my back.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to see what they’re up to. It can’t be good,” I said.

His eyes followed mine, narrowed, and he released me. “Okay. Good luck.”

“So, Alex, do you knit or crochet?”

I heard Nico’s question as I walked away, and shook my head. Nico was likely looking to rope some other male into joining the knitting group. I doubted he’d get far with Alex.

Then again, if anyone can do it….

Most of the cold had vacated my bones. I gave myself a moment to glance around the dining room. It was set up for a wedding. An arched trellis covered in ivy and white star flowers—stephanotis—was positioned at the center of the panoramic window. Ten chairs were placed in a line, five on each side in front of the arch where guests would sit, facing us.

One long rectangular table was decorated with red roses, more stephanotis, and several bottles of champagne. It was actually quite nice.

Soft music played in the background. Pachelbel’s Canon in D emanated from a karaoke machine in the corner. I took note of it. It might come in handy later.

“Hey, ladies.” I stopped at the periphery of their circle and perceived some stiffening in posture. “What are you doing?”

Fiona turned, a smile plastered on her face, and drew me away from the others. “We’re just making some last minute arrangements. The captain will be here any minute. Is Alex all set? Is he okay with the plan?”

I nodded, though my gaze wandered to the circle of my friends as I was led to a far corner. “Yes. He seems to be. But, he can be…well, I’ve come to expect the unexpected.”

Fiona’s mouth hitched to the side and her eyes surveyed me with something like commiseration. “Welcome to marriage.” Then her smile fell a little. “Are you sure you’re going to be happy with this? It’s not too late.”

I reached for her hand, pressed it into mine. “Fiona, honestly, I couldn’t be happier. I really couldn’t. And I know this may showcase the fact that I need my head examined, but I can’t wait to do this. I love him so much.”

“I just want you to be sure, to be happy.”

“I know you warned me against him….”

“Oh,” Fiona interrupted with a sigh, glanced around the room. “There was something off about Alex. But now we know what it is. Honestly, he seems off in the same way that you seem on—and vice versa.”

I nodded my agreement. “It’s true. He’s the wang to my yin.”

“I think you mean yang.”

“No. I mean wang.”

She bumped my shoulder with hers, tsked, even as her expression sobered. “Seriously, Sandra….” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “He’s a good guy.” Her eyes moved between mine, and I saw that she knew—about his childhood, his father, his experience when he was eight, his mother’s death. She knew everything. Confirming my suspicion, she said, “I read his file. Well, part of it anyway.”

She read it from a file, and I heard it from his mouth.

I was glad he’d told me. I was glad I hadn’t taken the moment, the choice away from him. I imagined that somewhere a file on me, and all the ugliness I’d ever lived through, existed.

“It’s not who he is, Fiona. He’s so much more than what’s in that file. He’s…he’s….”

She squeezed my hand. “I know. He loves you. He was willing to give up basically everything to keep you from a potential humiliation. And that’s enough for me.”

I returned her squeeze. “Your opinion means a lot.” Unaccountably, my eyes began to water.

Our shared moment was interrupted by Ashley’s hand closing over my elbow and her excited pseudo whisper, “We’re ready!”

I turned and was seized upon. I searched the room for Alex and found him standing next to Nico near the arch. Half the ladies had encircled them and were fussing with his shirt. He was frowning at Marie as she pinned something over his heart. It wasn’t a frown of displeasure; rather, it was a frown of concentration.

Directly under the center of the arch stood a woman dressed in a captain’s uniform.

Ashley steered me to the small gathering. I just caught her words as she mumbled, “It’s a good thing this is all so sudden, otherwise we’d have to rent out the convention hall for all the members of your male fan club.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond because the captain was watching me with expectant eyes, and I didn’t want to mention my man-harem in mixed company.

“Captain Day, this is Sandra. Sandra, this is Captain Day.” Fiona made the introductions as everyone else took their seat. Quinn and Dan appeared from someplace previously unseen and claimed seats on Alex’s side. Janie sat next to Quinn and Elizabeth next to Janie.

Fiona, Kat, and Marie sat on my side. Nico stood behind Alex and Ashley stood behind me.

I lifted my eyes and found him watching me. A closed-lipped, disbelieving smile tilted his mouth to the left, revealing his dimple. I returned his grin and shrugged to convey that ultimately this moment was about us—despite all the well-meaning and appreciated interferences of my loving group of friends.

“Oh, come here.” Ashley spun me toward her and unzipped my jacket. She yanked it from my shoulders and hurriedly shoved something in my hands. “Hold this. It’s your bouquet.” Then she spun me back around.

I glanced down at the bouquet in my hands and found that it was actually five skeins of yarn—red and white—bound together tightly at the bottom with a white ribbon forming a sturdy stem; the tops of the skeins were left loose to mimic blossoming flowers. The effect was actually quite beautiful; it was absolutely perfect.

I glanced behind me and gave her a wink. Ashley sniffled, patted me on the shoulder, and whispered in my ear, “That is the hoochiest wedding outfit I’ve ever seen. You go, girl.”

I shook my head and glanced at my attire. She was right, of course. I was wearing the infamous plunging red halter-top from our first date—that had been implicated in BonerGate—and black leather pants. Perhaps it wasn’t traditional wedding attire, but I looked good. And I was definitely not a thermos.