An Uncommon Honeymoon

by Susan Mann

  “I know, right?” Kelsey answered.

  As Isabelle noted, another yellow stickie was stuck next to the autograph. One corner of Quinn’s mouth lifted as she read it to herself. Pages 146–147 are like an awkward middle school dance compared to what we’ll be doing tonight. Just saying.

  She didn’t care if every eye in the room was on her. She had to know. She turned to page 146. Made you look, the note attached to the page read.

  Her smile grew. “Smarty-pants,” she whispered. She heard Nicole and Kelsey snort, but chose to ignore them.

  She skimmed the passage, which vividly detailed a torrid sex scene between Edward Walker and a character named Octavia. By the time she reached the bottom of page 147, her brain had shuddered to a stop. Not because of the words she’d read, but because of James’s promise that Edward and Octavia’s tryst would pale in comparison to what was in store for their wedding night.

  “Quinn? Quinn!” Her mother’s voice sliced through the haze. “Are you okay?”

  Coming out of her trance, Quinn blinked several times and cleared her throat. “I’m great.” She snapped the book closed. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Chapter Four

  Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, dappling Quinn’s dress with vibrant reds, blues, yellows, and greens. She stood next to her father, Robert, one hand holding a bouquet of white roses and the other tucked in the crook of his arm. Mrs. Wilkerson, the church’s wedding coordinator and a cross between the Good Witch of the South and General Patton, quietly yet efficiently lined up the bridesmaids in front of Quinn. Bailey and Quinn’s nephews and ring bearers, Hunter and Wyatt, were positioned directly in front of her. While Bailey stood still, the cousins poked at each other with their satin pillows.

  The strains of Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” wafted through the open double doors leading into the sanctuary. Marie, escorted by Quinn’s brother George, disappeared through the doorway, and began their walk down the long center aisle.

  In her life, Quinn’s heart had never pounded harder than it did at that moment. And that included the times she’d been shot at. She sucked a deep breath in through her nose and gusted the air out through parted lips.

  Robert covered her hand at his elbow with his. “You okay, kiddo?” he asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yeah. I’m just super nervous. All those people looking at me. What if I screw up?”

  The music changed to the piece played at every wedding Quinn had ever been to, known to the world as “Pachelbel’s Canon.” Quinn and her father remained off to the side while the rest of the wedding party took their positions at the sanctuary’s entrance.

  “So what if you do? What’s the worst that can happen?” her father asked.

  Kelsey started down the aisle.

  “People will laugh, I guess. I might throw up.”

  Robert shook his head. “You’re not going to throw up. And so what if people chuckle a little? Something always goes haywire at a wedding.”

  Stephanie entered the sanctuary.

  “Great,” Quinn said. “I’m gonna end up on YouTube as ‘Epic Bridal Fail.’”

  “Not necessarily. James might screw up and he’ll end up on YouTube.”

  “Dad,” Quinn said with a smile and bumped him with her shoulder.

  Mrs. Wilkerson sent Isabelle on her way. Only Nicole and the kids were left. It was almost time.

  “Say something goes sideways,” Robert said. “When all is said and done, will you still be married?”

  The question took her aback. In her fugue of nerves, she’d lost sight of what the wedding was all about. It wasn’t a show put on for the people inside the church. It was about her and James promising to spend the rest of their lives together. “Yeah, I will.”

  Nicole stepped into the sanctuary and out of view.

  “That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Robert said and squeezed her hand.

  “You’re right. It is.” Still, she hoped the ceremony would go okay.

  Every concern flew out of her mind when five-year-old Hunter turned and sprinted toward her, leaving his cousins and the wedding coordinator behind. He slid to a stop in front of her and looked up. “Aunt Quinn, I gotta go potty.”

  “Right now?” she asked, dangerously close to freaking out. She was supposed to be walking down the aisle in less than a minute. “You can’t hold it until after the ceremony?”

  He hopped from foot to foot. “No.”

  Mrs. Wilkerson hustled over. “Either he goes down the aisle right now or I take him to the bathroom after you go in. He’ll have to stay out here in the narthex with me during the ceremony.”

  Hunter looked from Quinn to the wedding coordinator and back to his aunt. His eyes rounded with panic. “I don’t wanna do that.”

  By now, Bailey and Wyatt had wandered over and joined the confab.

  “You won’t have to,” Quinn said. “I’m not going anywhere until you get back.” She took the pillow from him and handed it to Bailey. To her father, she said, “Grandpa, can you take Hunter to the bathroom?”

  “You bet.” He scooped the boy up and as he carried him off, said, “Come on, Marine. Let’s hit the head.”

  Over the music coming from the sanctuary, Quinn could hear murmurs and rustling from the guests. She could imagine what everyone was thinking. To her surprise, rather than losing it, her nerves began to dissipate. Her wedding had glitched and it wasn’t the end of the world.

  Four-year-old Wyatt looked horrified. “Aunt Quinn? Why is Grandpa gonna hit Hunter’s head?”

  Quinn chuckled and squatted down to his and Bailey’s level. “He’s not going to hit Hunter’s head. It’s what sailors and Marines say when they use the bathroom.”

  Bailey’s nose wrinkled while Wyatt stared hard at Quinn. Behind his brown eyes, she could practically see his brain churning on this new bit of information.

  “I thought your mommies took you to the bathroom only a little while ago,” Quinn said.

  Both children’s chins lowered, and guilty looks passed between them.

  Quinn knew those looks. She’d been a part of many sibling conspiracies. “What?”

  Wyatt dropped his gaze to the floor and dug the toe of his shoe into the carpet. “Hunter told us not to tell.”

  “It’s okay,” Quinn said. She straightened his little bow tie. “I promise not to tell anyone else, except for Uncle James. He should get to know what the hold-up was, right? It’s his wedding, too.”

  The solemnity on Bailey’s face had Quinn fighting off giggles when she looked up and said, “Hunter snuck another juice box after we all went potty, even though Mommy and Aunt Stephanie told us not to drink any more.”

  “Ah.” Quinn glanced up at Mrs. Wilkerson, who was unsuccessfully biting back a smile. Looking at her niece and nephew again, she said, “Maybe from now on he’ll listen to his mommy.”

  From the noises coming from the sanctuary, Quinn knew anxiety was continuing to build.

  “Shall I announce the procession will resume in a few minutes?” Mrs. Wilkerson asked. “It’s better than leaving everyone wondering.”

  Quinn peeked over her shoulder. There was still no sign of her dad and Hunter. “It is. Please do.”

  Mrs. Wilkerson hurried off.

  Between the return of Quinn’s jangling nerves and the contrite and morose looks on Bailey and Wyatt’s faces, she needed to lighten things up for all their sakes. “At least Hunter could tell us he had to go. Can you imagine what might have happened if we had Pot Roast be a ring bearer, too, like Great-Grandpa wanted?” Her grandfather had made the suggestion in jest, of course. Quinn had shot down the idea, saying she couldn’t take the chance of being upstaged by the slobbery, albeit adorable, English bulldog.

  Bailey clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “If he had to go, he might have lifted his leg and tinkled on the end of a pew,” she said through her fingers.

  Wyatt shrieked with laughter and hopped up and
down. “Or pooped in the aisle!”

  “Shhh!” Quinn said, laughing now, too. It was too late. From the snickers coming from inside the sanctuary, many had heard him. At least the little guy’s outburst had helped cut the tension.

  Riding piggyback, Hunter bounced as Robert jogged toward them. Her father stopped, swung Hunter around, and set him on his feet. “We’re good to go.”

  Quinn tucked the front of Hunter’s shirt in and smoothed a hand over the clump of hair sticking out on one side. “Ready?”

  He nodded, and Bailey handed the pillow back to her cousin.

  “Good. Go over to Mrs. Wilkerson and remember, no running down the aisle, okay?”

  Three heads bobbed. Then, as one, they turned and ran to where Mrs. Wilkerson stood at the entrance to the sanctuary. A wave of “awwws” and quiet laughter from the guests rolled through the doorway at the children’s sudden and rather comical reappearance.

  Quinn stood and took her father’s arm again, grateful for his steadying strength.

  Once the kids were successfully on their way, Mrs. Wilkerson closed the doors and motioned for Quinn and Robert to take their place.

  Everything turned strange and dreamlike as Robert led her into position.

  “Pachelbel’s Canon” ended, and after several beats of silence, the bright, stately notes of “Trumpet Voluntary” filled the church.

  This was it.

  Robert threw back his shoulders and peered down at her. “You ready?”

  She gazed into his eyes. In them, she saw love and pride tempered by a hint of melancholy. Emotion swelled in her chest. “Oorah, Daddy.”

  His smile was soft when he winked and said, “Oorah, honey.”

  The doors opened.

  Upon catching Robert and Quinn in their sweet father/ daughter moment, there was another round of “awwws” from the guests.

  As she looked forward, the sea of smiling faces all around her faded away. She only saw one.

  James’s eyes lit up the moment he saw her. She returned his brilliant grin with one of her own. In his black tuxedo and with the way his thick, wavy hair was combed just so, he had never been more handsome. He was truly swoon-worthy.

  Robert and Quinn started the slow walk toward her groom. As they did, she watched James’s smile crack and saw the raw emotion on his face.

  Nose burning and eyes prickling with tears, she struggled to maintain her composure.

  Quinn and her father reached the altar and came to a stop.

  James’s smile returned in full force when his gaze dropped to the necklace she wore. It was a simple gold chain with a small pendant of an eagle with outstretched wings. It had been his first Christmas gift to her.

  James glanced down at his necktie, looked back at her, and waggled one eyebrow.

  Catching his hint, she studied the tie. It wasn’t the white one she’d expected him to wear. Instead, he wore the Lamborghini tie she’d given him that same Christmas. He’d told her once he only wore it on special occasions. She was glad to know their wedding day qualified. She grinned at him and moved an eyebrow. She understood.

  Quinn dragged her gaze away from James and focused on the minister in front of them when he, in a mellifluous voice, began to speak.

  Vows were made. Gold bands were exchanged. A kiss was shared. And they were married.

  Chapter Five

  As violins played the opening passage of Etta James’s “At Last,” James led Quinn to the center of the dance floor and drew her to him. Her hand gripped in his and pressed to his chest, his cheek rested against the side of her head. She melted against him as they began to slowly sway in time to the song.

  “What do you say, Mrs. Anderson? You ready to blow this Popsicle stand?”

  “I am. Doing all the traditional reception stuff has been fun, though, hasn’t it?” She leaned back and shot him a wicked smile. “I especially enjoyed it when we fed each other cake.” The smoldering look he’d given her when he’d put her finger in his mouth and sucked off the frosting—to hoots and hollers of the delighted guests—had her knees buckling.

  “That was pretty great, although I gotta say my favorite was removing your garter,” he said with a wolfish grin.

  A shiver rolled through when she recalled the feeling of his hand unhurriedly running up her thigh. “Yeah,” she croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “That, um, yeah. That was pretty good, too.”

  They fell silent and danced, with Quinn’s head resting on his chest.

  “I’m a little disappointed, though,” James said a moment later. “You’re not wearing the lacy holster you told me about.”

  She picked up her head and looked into his face. “I do have two thighs, you know.” She smirked when she felt him jolt. Piling it on, she added, “And your hands are gonna have to travel a little higher.”

  The hand on her back pressed her body hard against his. “We need to get out of here.” The same urgency in his voice stirred in her.

  “We really do. Besides, next up in the parade of traditions is the wedding night.”

  There was a gleam in his eye when he said, “And we don’t want to break with tradition.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  The song ended and they kissed, the sound of the applause of their friends and relatives enveloping them. Mindful of the fact they were still in public, they kept their kiss brief. Fueled by their flirtations, however, it packed a serious wallop.

  Hand in hand, James and Quinn left the dance floor and started their good-byes.

  “The day James came to the library and I saw you two together, I knew he was the one for you,” Nicole said as she squeezed Quinn in a tight hug. “Even if you didn’t know it yet.”

  “You were right. Thanks for being the charter member of the James and Quinn Fan Club.”

  Nicole laughed. “You’re welcome, Q.”

  “I love you,” Quinn said, her throat taut with emotion.

  “I love you, too.” Nicole released her and gave James a hug. “You keep my girl happy.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command.

  “I will. Always,” he said with equal seriousness. He straightened and his tone lightened. “I’m looking forward to keeping up with my husbandly duties.”

  Nicole’s eyes glinted with approval. “Then my work here is done.”

  “Thanks, James,” Brian said as they shook hands after Quinn had hugged her friend’s husband.

  “You’re welcome. And thank you.” Something passed between the two men Quinn didn’t understand.

  As they walked toward James’s family, Quinn said, “What was that about?”

  “What?”

  “You and Brian are up to something.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Don’t be paranoid.” When she side-eyed him, hard, he sighed. “Trust me.”

  She always trusted him. Placated, she answered, “Okay.”

  They said their good-byes to James’s family. Quinn noted, in addition to the palpable tension between his divorced parents, James’s grandparents didn’t appear to be too thrilled with their daughter’s recent life choices either. Going forward, when it came to James’s family, Quinn’s game plan was simple. She’d support her husband and keep her head down.

  When James and Quinn joined her family to say their farewells, Monroe shook James’s hand and said, “George and John have to put their kids to bed, but the rest of us, like me and Madison and Tom and Nicole and Brian and Kelsey, are going for drinks at the bar. You should come hang out with us for a while.”

  Quinn shot her brother a sour look. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nah, it’ll be fun,” Madison said and clapped James on the back.

  “Ignore your brothers,” Marie said, pushing between the twins and pulling Quinn into an embrace. “You and James go. Have a wonderful honeymoon and give us a call when you get back.”

  “We will.” She hugged her mother tighter. “Thanks for everything.”

  Marie rubbed Quinn’s back. “You’re
welcome, honey.”

  Quinn slipped her arms around her father and held him tight. “Thanks, Dad. You and Mom are the best.”

  “Anything for our little girl,” Robert said gruffly and kissed the top of her head.

  She stepped back and swiped at the sudden tears streaking down her cheeks. Through blurred vision, she watched her husband and father shake hands. When the two men she loved most in the world did one of those awkward, backslapping man hugs, a watery chuckle burbled up.

  Finally, they went to say good-bye to Quinn’s grandparents. After kissing her grandmother’s cheek, she said to her grandfather, “Thank you for sending James to the library.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “You’re welcome, angel.”

  “You couldn’t have known this would happen,” James said.

  “Well . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Oh, Chester,” Grandma said and gave him an exasperated look. “He didn’t know,” she said to James. “Although once he told me what he was up to, we both had a feeling something good could come of it.”

  James took Quinn’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “Best assignment ever.”

  Quinn smiled at her husband.

  “Okay, you two.” Grandma flicked her hands at them. “Shoo.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” James said.

  “Bye.” Quinn gave her parents a little wave while James tugged her away. He snatched his tuxedo jacket from the back of his chair and, with his hand still clasping hers, strode out into the hotel lobby.

  Quinn veered for the bank of elevators that would take them to their room. To her surprise, James kept walking straight for the front entrance of the hotel. “Change of plans,” he said and gently pulled her along.

  “What are you up to?”

  They went through the front door. Parked in the valet drop-off area was the black town car that had ferried them from the church to the nearby hotel where the reception had taken place. The driver, who had been standing next to the car waiting for them, opened the back door. He nodded crisply and said, “Mrs. Anderson. Mr. Anderson.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow at James in question.