Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,103
got down on one knee when we were in Vegas.”
I sniffed. “I don’t think you did.”
“Well, I am now. And I’m asking you to be my wife. Sophie, will you stay married to me?”
“Really?” I asked, my voice shaky. “You want to keep me?”
“Sugar, I want to keep you forever. I want to be your husband and live in that house with you. And we’ll fill it with tiny little Sophies who trip over their own feet and run over here to go fishing with their grandpa on sunny afternoons.”
“They should probably have life jackets in case they fall off the dock,” I said, still blubbering through my tears.
He smiled. “Goddamn, I love you. What do you say, sugar? Can we stay married?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding and laughing and crying all at once. “I really, really want to stay married.”
Still smiling, he pulled a box out of his pocket.
Oh my god, a ring. A real wedding ring.
He opened the box and my legs almost buckled. It wasn’t just a wedding ring.
It was my mother’s ring.
Sobbing and overwhelmed, I covered my face. I was so glad Cox hadn’t thought to hire a photographer to capture this moment. It had to be the messiest, sobbiest, teariest proposal ever.
I peeked out from between my fingers. Cox beamed at me, like I was the type of girl who could cry and still look pretty. Not one who had snot on her face.
He stood and pulled a tissue out of a pocket.
“Thank you.”
After a long moment, and more than a few shaky breaths, I pulled myself together. I wiped my face—and my nose—and held out my left hand.
He slid my mother’s ring onto my finger. It was small and simple. My parents had never had much, and this ring had been what they could afford. But to me, it was the most beautiful ring in the world. And if Cox had it, it meant he’d gone to my dad. Which made me start crying all over again.
He wrapped me in his arms and held me close, letting me cry against his chest.
“I’m sorry I’m so messy,” I said.
“I love you messy.” He kissed the top of my head. “I love everything about you. I’m so glad you’re mine.”
“I love you, too. I love you so much.” I looked up at him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, sugar. What is it?”
“I know we’re already married. But—”
“Oh, we’re having a wedding,” he said. “I want to see you walk down the aisle on your daddy’s arm, wearing a big white dress.”
“Really?”
“Are you going to start crying again? I have more tissues.”
“Maybe.”
He let go of me long enough to pull out another tissue. “Sugar, we’re going to have the best wedding you can imagine. You dream it, I’ll give it to you.”
“Mostly, I just want you.”
“I’m yours.” He leaned down to press his lips against mine. “And I always will be.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and popped up on my tiptoes to kiss him again.
Cox was right. Getting married in Vegas hadn’t been a mistake—even though it had been after too much whiskey and to the man who’d pulled my pigtails as a child. Of course, it figured that things would start out as a big mess. This was me we were talking about.
But I’d always believed in silver linings. And my wild night in Vegas had the biggest silver lining imaginable.
My husband.
He might have seemed like Mr. Wrong, but I’d never regretted marrying him. Not really. And I never would. Because somehow, this hot mess had found her Prince Charming. And we really were going to live happily ever after.
Epilogue: Sophie
The bride’s room at Salishan Cellars winery was kind of a mess. There was tissue paper from the box that held my veil, empty champagne flutes, and metallic chocolate wrappers laying around. The counter had an array of hairstyling supplies and makeup strewn across it, and trays with remnants of our pre-wedding snacks were on the table in the middle of the room.
“Uh-oh,” I said. “We’ve been making a mess.”
“Don’t worry about that for a second.” Nora pinned one of my curls back. “All you need to be concerned about right now is getting married.”
“Again,” I said with a laugh.
“The first one barely counted,” she said. “Although we’re sure glad it happened.”
“Yes, we are,” Everly said.
Hazel put her hands on her hips and looked me up and down. “You look absolutely stunning.”
“She really does,” Nora said, still fussing with my hair.