Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,59

like Casey the fiancé, I was going to be a very happy wife. He made it easy to love and cherish him forever.

He ran errands before I got around to them. He was attentive and thoughtful. He’d made every part of planning fun, and when it was stressful, he added levity when I needed it. Truthfully, it wasn’t all that bad.

The wedding was less than a week away and the dresses had been fitted and shipped to the resort. The caterers and bakers had confirmed everything was still going ahead as planned. The event hostess at the lodge called regularly and never let me worry about a package not arriving or any detail being forgotten. Everyone had their travel arrangements organized. All systems were a go for the Warren-Moore nuptials.

And sometime between then and when Casey put the ring on my finger, I quit waiting for the other shoe to drop. Somewhere over time, the fear of things going wrong faded. There wasn’t anything in the world that could get in our way. I pinched myself every morning to prove it was real. I had everything I ever wanted.

I just needed to finish my vows, something Micah hounded me about nearly every day. Casey had finished his, even though Micah told me he’d changed them three times already. I think, above all else, the vows were the part I was most anxious about. It was certainly the part that meant the most.

I’d start writing, then I’d get sidetracked.

I’d think of something perfect when I was driving, but when I got home it always fell flat.

The shower. Why was it that all my good ideas happened in there and dried up faster than my hair?

It was less than a page, but if this was what writers felt when they had writer’s block—I could sympathize. Fundamentally, I knew what I wanted him to vow. My requests weren’t elaborate or complicated. I wanted him to love me. Always.

But hadn’t he already vowed that? Proven it even? Who cared if it hadn’t been said and confirmed by witnesses? How could one love a person through the hell we’d put each other through, if it wasn’t an always kind of thing? It seemed so redundant.

I knew his vows for me were probably heartfelt and full of humor, just like him. I wanted mine to be just as meaningful. I supposed I’d know the words when they came, but they needed to hurry the hell up.

Still, the days kept peeling away.

Casey: Want to grab a drink at HLS? One last one before we’re married. Seems like the thing to do.

I loved how sentimental he was.

Me: Sure. Picking me up, or am I meeting you there?

Casey: I’ll pick you up. Be ready in ten minutes.

There was only one thing I needed to do before I left, but I could make it fast.

Me: Sounds good.

I waited in the drive for him to pull up, then hopped in and kissed his handsome face.

“How was work, dear?” I asked. It was his last day before we left for Oregon and then onto our honeymoon.

The past weeks had been ideal with both of us being home. I’d been enjoying working out of the local office. One of the chefs got a better job offer, so I’d been busy in the kitchen when I wasn’t working on menus. I’d really missed getting my hands in there and making things for myself.

“It was good, and yours?” he answered as he backed out.

“It was great. Everything at work is taken care of. I’m pleased to inform you, you now have my undivided attention for the next three weeks.” I still didn’t know where we were going, but I didn’t care. It was my honeymoon. With Casey. Our honeymoon. I was in good hands. Very strong, very capable hands.

“You gonna break down and let me get into those panties tonight?” he teased, squeezing my leg as he ran his hand into naughty territory. I didn’t understand why he asked me every day. The sex-fasting was his idea. And it had only been two weeks. We’d gone much longer before. Plus, his rules had stipulated oral didn’t count, so we were plenty satisfied. Trust me.

Leave it to him to find ways around rules he’d made himself.

“Nope. I’m off limits. You’re cut off.” I closed my legs to make my point.

“Wait.” He slowed the car down to a crawl on our neighborhood street, looking back and forth from me to the road. “You mean to tell me