“It’s not that.” I wipe under my eye. “It’s Foster. He hates me.”
“Say what?”
“There was a misunderstanding, a horrible one, and he’s not speaking to me.”
“That’s nonsense. How could anything have happened between the time I dropped you off last night until now? Don’t tell me he came over for a quickie.”
I sigh. “I wish.”
Over the next few minutes, I retell the entire ordeal about Gerard, my stupidity, and Foster decking him in return. About how I asked my once-trusted family friend to leave the island and how Foster was so pissed that he wouldn’t even see me.
Once I’m through, the tears have dried, and I’m barely holding on to my coffee cup, having relived the emotions again in one fell swoop.
Wolfgang takes me in his arms, pets my head, and allows me to wet the shoulder of his shirt with my straggling tears.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Wolfgang says quietly. “He’s just a man who feels betrayed, and he wants to protect his woman. It’s all very primitive. He was swinging his barbaric club around—and rightfully so. I’m sure he’s cooled off by now.”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t reached out to me at all. I was hoping he would, but I’m starting to lose…” I sniff, choking back the words I don’t want to say.
“Shh. We’ll fix it.” He leans over and picks up one of my cranes. “Or maybe the birds will.”
Wolfgang’s phone rings.
“I bet that’s my mother,” I guess.
He pulls the ringing cell from his pocket. “You’re psychic.”
“She’s calling about breakfast. I can’t go, Wolfie. Look at me; I’m a mess.”
“Don’t worry.” Wolfgang pecks my cheek. “I’ll take care of it.”
He answers the phone and does just what he promised.
Foster
Curling and uncurling my fingers, I examine the knuckles in the natural light streaming through the thin curtains. The swelling has gone down considerably—thanks to the ice that was delivered to my door, which I’m sure Evelyn had sent over—and only a faint shade of pink remains.
All night, I was at war with myself over what I had seen between Gerard and Evelyn. I believe her about what happened—she’s never been one to lie to me about anything—but the thought of another man touching her like that boils my blood to no end.
We’re supposed to be married at sundown, and I hate the idea of saying vows to each other when there is so much unwanted tension between us. Weddings are unions of love and commitment, and my head is still swimming with jealousy and bitterness.
One thing has remained the same—I love her. That hasn’t changed.
I’m not angry. I’m distraught with how we ended up like this.
I need to call her.
There’s a knock at the door, which is surprising since Graham and Parker aren’t supposed to be here for another two hours. We have a tee time scheduled as a little male bonding before the ceremony.
“Coming.” I proceed to the entrance and open the door.
“Good morning, Foster,” Wolfgang says. He enters the room without another word. “How’s the hand?”
“I take it, you spoke with Evelyn?”
“Yes, we chatted a bit.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a white folded piece of paper and tosses it in my direction. I catch it.
“Thought you might want to know what she’s been up to.”
I expect a note, but it’s a crane, just like the ones I folded for the day I asked Evelyn to marry me. “She made this?”
“Yes, and a slew of others. Evidently, she has some quota to reach if her dreams are going to come true. She’s still making them back in her room, like some kind of crazed and caffeinated workaholic.”
“A thousand cranes for one wish.” I plop onto the bed. “Did she say what she was wishing for?”
“A happily ever after. Apparently, she’s not sure about the ending of your story, and she is hoping a little origami magic will help get the one she wants.” Wolfgang pulls out the chair from under the desk, places it in front of me, and takes a seat. “She sent Gerard away. He left the island. I spoke with the front desk, and he checked out shortly after midnight.”
I nod.
“That girl loves you. You know that, right?”
I turn the crane over. “Yes.”
“Then, why won’t you talk to her? She feels awful. All she wants to do is marry you and have, like, ten thousand of your geeky babies. She couldn’t give two shits about anything else.”
“I plan to talk to her.” My fingertip taps the beak of the crane created by my fiancée’s talented hands. It’s a simple craft made with so much passion; it’s the only way Evelyn does anything—with all that she is. “Everything just feels out of our control. I wish it was just her and me and nothing else in the world.”
My last words melt into my soul, and a calm comes over me.
All that matters is her and me.
The world might be complex, but our connection is straightforward. When it comes to who we are, we’ve always been…simple by design. I love her, and she loves me. It’s only when outside forces come into play, when we let them, that our connection gets messy.
I bolt up from the bed and pick up the phone, calling the front of the house. While it’s ringing, I ask Wolfgang, “Are you up for making wishes come true?”
TWELVE
Foster
Waiting is the worst. I’ve been under this tree, sitting and figuring out exactly what I want to say, for over twenty minutes, and it feels like an eternity.
When I’m close to losing my mind—or maybe ten minutes later—Wolfgang’s voice bellows in my direction, speaking words of nonsense to Evelyn to keep her moving. He promised me that she would have no clue about their destination, so I’m not surprised when I hear her giving him hell for dragging her to the other side of the resort.
“This is ridiculous, Wolfie,” Evelyn insists. “I need to get back to my room.”
“Why? To make more birds?” he teases her. “Honey, you need fresh air more than bloody fingers.”
“What if Foster calls or comes looking for me?”
“Just sit your ass down.”
They are close, so close that if I peeked out from behind the tree, I’m sure I would see them. It takes everything in me to stay put and resist looking.
“I’m not sitting on the ground,” Evelyn argues. “This isn’t the time for a stroll in the park and camping. Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Just sit down.”
Evelyn doesn’t retort, and I imagine my fiancée crossing her arms and giving a full-blown stare-down to her man of honor.
“Fine,” Wolfgang huffs. “Stand if you like. Just back it up a bit to the tree.”
“Should I put an apple on my head? Are you planning on using me for target practice?” She grunts. “I don’t know what’s going on with you right now. Foster isn’t speaking to me. My mother is going to shit a brick if she doesn’t see me soon, and I have guests waiting for a wedding that I’m not sure is going to take place.”
A sharp pinch nips at my chest. Not caring about the timing discussed with Wolfgang, I blurt out, “Evelyn, sit down.”
“Foster?” Evelyn gasps.
“Whoa,” Wolfgang sputters. “Stay where you are.”
“But—”
“He wants to talk to you,” he assures her. “Just sit down.”
“Foster? Are you here?”
“Sit down, Evelyn,” I urge. “We need to talk.”
After a shuffle of fabric and a few ums on behalf of Evelyn, Wolfgang says, “I’m going to take a walk while you two chat. I’ll be right back.”
I listen to his footsteps fade away, and I count to twenty. This is a private conversation, and I want to ensure that she and I are alone, which is difficult to assess without the risk of glimpsing her. I can’t see her yet. It’s not time.
“Foster?” Evelyn a
sks. “Are you going to say something?”
“Is he gone?”
“Yes. I can’t see him at all.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Stay where you are, but reach out your right hand behind you. Don’t turn around though.”
“Okay.”
I search for her outstretched palm near the roots of the tree. When her fingertips connect with mine, it’s like a part of me that I felt missing is suddenly right back where it’s supposed to be.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I was livid.”
“You have to know that—”
“That you didn’t do anything wrong. That you love me.” I squeeze her hand. “And you have to know that I love you, too.”
Releasing her grip, I gather the paper crane that Wolfgang brought to my room not long ago, and I set it next to where her fingers remain between us.
“Are you returning this?” she questions, drawing the paper shape in her direction.
“Yes,” I exhale. “I don’t need it, and neither do you. Your wish is my wish. They are one in the same…and will be forever. It’s one I asked for a year ago, and the moment you said yes, it was set into motion.” Tipping my head back against the bark of the tree, I ask, “Did you ever question us, or was it just the wedding?”
“Just the wedding,” she replies quickly. “I know it’s selfish of me—”
“No, it’s not. It’s smart.” I smile to myself. “You are definitely smarter than me when it comes to how we get married, and I’m not going to deny that fact any longer than necessary.”
“What are you saying?”
Reaching out into the space between us, I find her fingers waiting patiently for mine. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before they’re married. I think, subconsciously, it’s the reason I wouldn’t see you last night, despite my anger, and it’s the reason we’re meeting like this now. The world is full of outside elements that can wrongly influence what matters most, and that’s you and me. I want to take away those distractions.”
With anticipation in my lungs, I ask, “Will you marry me—right now?”
Evelyn
No thinking is needed. Last night’s horrid events don’t matter in the overall scheme of things. What does matter is my bond with Foster, the simple connection that we have outside of all other elements.
“Yes,” I blurt out. “Forever can’t come fast enough.”
Foster tightens his grip with mine. “Close your eyes, and count to one hundred.”
“And then what?”
“Forever is just a moment away.”
THIRTEEN
Evelyn
Sixty-six.
Sixty-seven.
Sixty-eight.
“Are you ready?” Wolfgang asks.
Slowly, I lower my palms from my face, blinking at my friend above me.
He assists me up from the ground and dusts the debris from my white sundress while humming the “Wedding March.”
“Where’s Foster?” I question, scanning the area.
“Somebody has to walk you down the aisle.”
Wolfgang offers me his arm, and I loop mine through it. He leads me along a small path toward the seaside cliff. When we reach the edge of the trail that opens up to a span of grass overlooking the ocean, my eyes wander from left to right, landing on Foster, a tall and handsome silhouette against the pale backdrop created by the morning sun.
“Here,” says Wolfgang, retrieving a bouquet of white flowers from the ground.
Taking it, I ask, “Where did you…”
“It was all Foster.” He shoulders me. “C’mon. Let’s get you hitched before you two get into any more trouble.”
“Thank you, Wolfie.” I kiss his cheek.
Without another word, he leads me down those final steps until I’m face-to-face with my soon-to-be husband. A sense of wholeness, relief, and pure bliss taps through every cell in my body, and every bit of anxiety over the past twelve hours fades away.
Foster’s a man who loves me for everything I am, like no one else ever could. He’s a man who was somehow designed for me in a package I wouldn’t have known how to wrap because love isn’t a defined formula or recipe found in a book. Love is something different for each and every person, and when two people come together, it’s found within their unique chemistry.
“Hello,” Foster says.
His simple word is the catalyst for all the wonderment to come.
Foster
My Evelyn.
She’s mine—all her beauty and all her flaws, her erratic mind and her crazy-ass mouth.
In this world, there is so much more than us, a place filled with complications and distractions, but in this moment, there is only us.
The officiant slated to perform our ceremony at sunset greets my soon-to-be wife.
When I called down to the front desk, the staff was able to track him down and convince him to conduct an earlier ceremony for us—in private and in secret. It never hurts to ask.
Addressing both of us, the officiant says, “It is my understanding that there will be no rings at this ceremony; therefore, I will be conducting a blessing of the hands. I ask you to turn to one another and join your hands as a symbol of the union you will be making here today.”
Evelyn gives her bouquet to Wolfgang and places her talented and loving hands into mine. I gaze into her clear blue eyes, no longer a mystery of creativity. It’s the place I call home and the place our souls connect. One look from her, and my life makes sense. There are no questions, worries, or doubts. Only her.
“Think about the hands you are holding,” the officiant instructs.
We focus on the place where our palms are joined.
“These are the hands of your best friend, holding your hands on your wedding day, promising to love and work together for a future you will build as one. These are the hands that will give you strength when you need it, tenderness when you crave it, and love at all times. These are the hands that will wipe your tears, the ones of sorrow and those of joy. These are the hands that will hold all that you love. Years from now, these hands will be searching for yours, seeking love, encouragement, and friendship. The same as you do today.”
Evelyn sniffs, and I wipe away a tear from her face, as I will do for many years from now. She leans into my hand, and I extend my love to her, as I will do far into our future. The woman I love presses her fingertips to my mouth, her hand expressing to me that she is close, just as she will be decades beyond this day.
We then say our vows to one another, promising to be no one other than ourselves, to love what we know of each other, and to trust what we are still discovering about the other person, to respect one another, and to have faith in our love for all of our years and in all that life might have in store for us. We agree to accept each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and we openly choose to spend the rest of our lives together.
“Evelyn and Foster,” the officiant announces, “you have expressed your love to each other through the commitment and promises you have just made. It is with these in mind that I pronounce you husband and wife.”
I step closer to Evelyn, savoring the magical words that indicate we are now bonded in matrimony.
“No longer simply partners and best friends,” he continues, “you are husband and wife.”
Looking to the officiant, I wait for those final words.
“You may kiss the bride,” he finally adds.
I wrap my arm around the waist of my wife and pull her into me. “This is my promise of forever.”
Sealing my mouth to hers, I vow to love her—all of her and only her—forever and ever, plus infinity.
I’ll do the math later.
All that matters is that she’s my wife, my life, and my forever in every single way.
FOURTEEN
Evelyn
The bridal party is buzzing with anticipation. My mother feverishly checks everyone’s hair one last
time before she’s shown to her seat. The wedding planner fluffs my dress to make sure it’s laying just right for my trip down the aisle.
My father pats the perspiration off his forehead. “Is it hotter than it was earlier?”
“No, Dad. You must be nervous.”
Tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket, he says, “Not likely any more than you.”
“Of course not.”
It’s a lie. I have no sense of nervousness at all.
In only a few minutes, I will be joining my husband. We will play the part for our families and guests, but our bond has already been sealed by a ceremony that had nothing to do with flowers or a band or dresses. It was wholly us.
The music plays, signaling a change in the procession.
Wolfgang nudges me and hands me my bouquet. “See you down there, single lady.” He winks and then exits the tent.
Gazing at the gorgeous arrangement of white flowers in my hand, I smile at the last-minute addition—a single paper crane with the word Granted scrawled across the wings. Yes, that is certainly the case with my wish.
Moments later, the tune changes, and the wedding planner tells my father and me that it’s our time to head down the aisle.
“Don’t be nervous,” the blonde lady says, adjusting the tulle of my veil. “It’s your day. Enjoy, and have fun.”
“I will.” I turn to my father. “Are you ready?”
“I’m not so sure.” He tweaks his bow tie. “You grew up too fast.”
“It was bound to happen.”
“Bride and Dad”—the wedding planner signals for us—“I need you now. Are you good?”
“Absolutely,” I respond.
My father chuckles. “You never were indecisive.”
The helpful blonde pulls back the curtain, opening up the tent to a sea of sunshine. My father and I step out onto the white runner lying on top of the silky sand. The guests rise from their seats, and I focus on my future.
Foster. My forever Fozzie.
When we reach the end of our procession, the officiant speaks a few words to the people at my back and then asks for Foster to take my hand from my father. As my dad steps away, the officiant gives me a small nod, acknowledging the secret union from a few hours earlier, and then begins the ceremony for everyone to witness.
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