Anything but Minor - Kate Stewart Page 0,86
sweeter exchange about the fact that I had no obligations left to keep me in Charleston, he insisted we start our life immediately and packed my bags for Denver with assurance we would figure out the rest later. Rafe had been just as miserable with the distance as I had and wanted no part of the wait it would take to get me to Denver. And I had no issue whatsoever with his argument.
My wait was over.
I helped him pack me, the only setback being to keep my clothes on while we did it. We’d barely made the flight.
Rafe fell asleep on the plane as I looked out of the window with the same hope and elation as I had when I landed in Charleston six months ago. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would attend a baseball game that would change the course of my life so drastically. I admired my ring and then did the same as I looked over at my beautiful fiancée. I leaned in with a whisper, “I made you a seahorse.” I chuckled as a slow, sleep-filled smile covered his face and he drifted off again.
It was the best day of my life.
Our wedding was a disaster, truly. It was an intimate, outdoor ceremony held at Dutch’s place in Charleston. Though we’d move to Denver only a few weeks after Rafe’s season ended, it seemed fitting we married in the place we fell so deeply in love. I actually felt a fondness for Denver, much like Charleston, though Rafe had strong objections to my new zest for an attempt at skiing and snowboarding, and any other activity that I wanted to try that he wasn’t present for.
Charleston was ideal for both of us, and though we’d chosen early spring, two weeks before training began, a sudden heat wave had made an unwelcomed visit on our big day. So, while the groomsmen perspired in their tuxedos, my bridesmaids continued to cater to me by moving my dress out of the way while I peed...every two minutes.
Just as my nerves calmed and I floated down the aisle toward the most handsome groom ever, a massive thunderstorm hit. The wedding party and I, along with our drenched guests, made a mad dash for the picturesque barn we’d purchased specifically for the occasion. The doors on each side were open and helped to create a wind tunnel of epic proportions. Our four-tiered wedding cake and thousands in linens and décor toppled to the floor as the DJ, who assumed we were wed, scrambled to put on our song. “Free” played as Rafe grabbed my hand amongst the chaos while the others moved fruitlessly to close the doors and salvage what was left of months of planning. I could see the disappointment in Rafe’s eyes as we danced, but it wasn’t his own. It was for me. I looked up to my minutes-away husband in my designer wedding dress with a huge smile on my face.
“You don’t have to hide it from me,” he whispered as he dripped from head to toe in a mix of sweat and rain.
“Best day of my life, Mr. Hembrey. What do you say we find that preacher man and make it official?”
“You look so beautiful,” he whispered with relief as his lips descended.
“Ah ah ah, you’re going to have to wait for that kiss.”
After our week long and amazing honeymoon in Ireland, we had a small party at Andy’s bar to celebrate what had to be the worst wedding photos in history. Every single one, though perfectly lit and edited, showed the complete and utter disarray of the night. We’d all gotten gloriously drunk as it went on, so the pictures became legendary. Andy had blown them all up and placed them strategically around the bar as Rafe and I made our way around it. The laughter never stopped as we saw one horrid shot after the other. April soaked in her maid of honor dress, holding my destroyed bouquet with a cheeky grin. The well-tailored groomsmen with red stains on their white dress shirts from their corsages. Andy stood at the front of the line, a Cheshire smile in place as he twisted the nipple of Waters, who stood next to him, the agony clear on his features. The next picture showed my mother and her Uber driver turned live-in boyfriend and next minute fiancé taking cover under his jacket and laughing while doing so. Another candid picture displayed