by Susan Stoker
“You ever manage to get a glimpse of Emily today?” Hollywood asked.
“No, dammit,” Fletch groused.
“No self-respecting Delta would’ve failed,” Blade teased.
Fletch held his middle finger up to his friend. It wasn’t as if he’d really tried to see her. Blade was right, if he’d wanted to see his bride before she walked down the aisle, he would’ve. But he knew the tradition meant a lot to her, and he’d do anything in his power to make this day perfect for the love of his life. So he’d made some halfhearted attempts, which he knew would be rebuffed and hopefully make her laugh. But he could not wait to see Emily as she came down the aisle toward him…ready to give herself to him for the rest of her life.
The pastor stuck his head in the door and remarked, “We’re about ready to begin. If you all would follow me and take your places.”
Everyone filed out of the room until it was only Ghost and Fletch left. Ghost put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m happy for you, Fletch. You and Emily were meant for each other.”
“Thanks,” Fletch told Ghost. “I know a lot of men dread this moment, or have second thoughts, but I’m so excited to make Emily mine, I feel as if I’m standing in the open door of a plane ready to HALO jump into enemy territory.”
Ghost chuckled. “That good, huh?”
“That good. When are you going to make an honest woman out of Rayne?”
Ghost took a step back and looked at Fletch seriously. “I would’ve married that woman a hundred times by now, but she’s not ready.”
“What’s up?”
Ghost looked toward the door and said quickly, “We don’t have time for this right now, but in a nutshell, she’s worried about Mary. I don’t know what’s going on with her best friend, but something is. Maybe a medical setback, with all the doctor’s appointments she’s going to. But she’s too worried about Mary and her possibly having a relapse to even think about putting together a wedding.”
Fletch put his hand on Ghost’s shoulder in support, but didn’t say anything.
“But make no mistake, she will be mine. Is, in fact, already mine. I’ve updated my will, added her to my bank account, and gave her name to the Army as my next-of-kin and she’ll get my death benefits. If I had my way, I’d marry her tomorrow, but I respect her and her friendship with Mary enough to wait until she’s ready. Rayne is aware I have a ring, she’s seen it, so she knows she’s it for me. For now, it’s enough for both of us.”
“It may be old fashioned,” Fletch told him, “but there’s just something different about knowing your woman is yours legally. Maybe it’s cavemanish of me, but there’s a part of me that will be relieved when we sign the papers. When I can officially register her with the Army as my wife. Get her ID card, sign her and Annie up for Tricare. I don’t know what it is, but it’s worth it. As soon as Rayne says she’s ready, get it done. You won’t regret it.”
“I know I won’t,” Ghost said. “Now, let’s go tie you to your woman…yeah?”
“Fuck yeah,” Fletch murmured, tugging on the bottom of his uniform jacket. “Let’s do this.”
Fletch stood at the front of the church, his eyes wandering the pews as he waited for Emily to appear. He and Emily had decided to keep the guest list small, but the amount of people who’d told him they wouldn’t miss his wedding had staggered him.
Of course his teammates, and Fish, were standing up next to him as his groomsmen, but also in the audience were the SEALs who they’d teamed up with in Turkey. Wolf, Abe, Cookie, Mozart, Dude, and Benny were in their dress white uniforms, the stark color standing out amongst the wooden pews and darker colors of the clothing of the other guests.
Penelope “Tiger” Turner, the woman they’d helped rescue from Turkey, was also there. At her side was a man wearing black pants and a blue shirt with a firefighting patch on it. He was tall, almost a foot taller than Tiger, and hadn’t taken his hand from the small of her back until they’d been seated. Fletch didn’t know who he was, but it was obvious he cared for the woman very much.
Not surprisingly, TJ Rockwell was also there. He was sitting on Tiger’s other side. He was in his Highway Patrol uniform. He used to be on a Delta team before chaptering out, and had saved Emily’s life from that asshole Jacks. Fletch and his team hadn’t worked with him in an official capacity, but once a Delta, always a Delta. He would always be welcome in their fold.
Fletch’s eye wandered to another pew to see a man he’d never met until that morning. John Keegan. Tex. The Tex. The man was infamous in their top-secret military circles, and had played a part in saving the lives of almost all of the SEALs’ women, as well as assisting in situations involving several of TJ’s friends.
A pretty woman was sitting next to Tex, her hand resting on his leg. Her blonde hair was pulled back into an elaborate twist at the back of her head and her smile lit up her face. The young baby sleeping in her other arm looked exactly like her. Blonde fuzz on the top of her head, small, delicate. The teenager sitting on her other side couldn’t look more different than the couple if she tried. She had dark olive skin, black hair, and was obviously of Middle Eastern decent.
Fletch had learned her name was Akilah, and she was Tex and Melody’s adopted Iraqi daughter. He’d only been slightly surprised to note that the teenager had a prosthetic on her arm. Figured Tex, who was missing part of his leg himself, had adopted a teenager with her own missing limb.
At the moment, Akilah’s eyes were glued to Fish.
Fletch turned his head and looked at the other Delta out of the corner of his eye. Fish shifted uncomfortably at the end of the row of men standing at the front of the church. His eyes swung from the door at the back, to the windows on either side of the large room. His left arm hung limply at his side, the three-pronged hook of his prosthetic glinting in the bright lights of the church.
Fletch turned his attention back to Akilah and briefly thought that maybe the two would be good for each other in some way.
Before he could dwell further on his friends and family sitting in the audience, the back doors of the church creaked as they slowly opened.
“Wait until you see your little girl and woman, Fletch,” Beatle said in a soft voice from his left. “They look amazing.”
Without taking his eyes off of the door, straining for that first glimpse of the females he loved more than anything in the world, Fletch whispered, “Shut up, asshole.”
He heard all his friends chuckle, but ignored them as he waited.
Harley was the first to step into the doorway and Coach’s indrawn breath was easily heard over the organ music. The woman looked amazing. Like little Annie, she wasn’t one to dress up in her everyday life. She was more comfortable in sweatpants and T-shirts than in skirts or dresses, but today she looked amazing.
Her hair was pulled up into some sort of elaborate twist and the white flowers contrasted against the darker color of her curls. The dark blue dress she wore clung to her slender body and shifted as she walked quickly down the aisle. Her steps were fast, as if she hated being the center of attention, which she probably did. Her eyes were glued to Coach’s as she walked toward the front of the church, and Fletch saw her mouth, “love you,” to Coach before she turned left to take her position at the front of the church.
Emily had been worried that she only had three bridesmaids when he wanted to have seven groomsmen, but in the end they’d decided that they didn’t care if they went against tradition and had an uneven bridal party. They’d do their wedding their way, and screw anyone who didn’t like it.
Fletch’s eyes went back to the door and he watched as Mary started down the aisle next. Her hair was cut short, and thus couldn’t be styled exactly, but she had a clip in her hair that had rhinestones on it, which sparkled as she walked toward them.
Curious as to his friend’s reaction, Fletch turned his head and saw Truck gazing at Mary with a look that had both longing and concern written all over it. The longing, F
letch understood; it was more than obvious that the biggest, meanest, roughest man on their team was smitten with the diminutive, prickly best friend of Rayne’s, but the concern was a bit harder to place. Anyone who was around Mary for five minutes could see that the woman could take care of herself, and wanted to.
Even though there had been some secretive phone calls back and forth between Truck and Mary, Fletch didn’t know where the concern was coming from. He didn’t have time to wonder any more about it though, as Mary took her place next to Harley.
Then it was Rayne’s turn to walk down the aisle. Her job as a flight attendant meant that she was more outgoing than the other women in their group. And impressively, the hell she went through in Egypt had somehow made her more mentally tough rather than breaking her. Rayne smiled at Ghost as she came toward him, the love for him clear in her eyes.
Fletch couldn’t hold back the wide smile on his face as he turned his eyes to the back of the church. The time he’d been waiting for was here. Annie.
He’d seen his daughter earlier, when he’d let her “catch” him in the restroom waiting for Emily. She looked adorable and he wouldn’t change one thing about her outfit. The white dress she was wearing was frilly, lacy, and poofed out from her waist, falling to the floor in what seemed like miles of material. It was so incongruent to what the little girl normally wore, he wouldn’t have bet she’d wear it in a million years.
His daughter hated girly things. Loathed them. But because her mom was going to be wearing white, and because her daddy asked her to, Annie had agreed to wear the dress. But only to the wedding itself. Not the reception. Both he and Emily had immediately agreed, not caring what she wore afterwards. But then they’d gone further, deciding that it was a great idea, and no one was allowed to wear their “fancy duds” to the party. No uniforms, no cocktail dresses. Everyone had been instructed to change into comfortable clothes before they showed up at their house for the reception.
But it was the small combat boots on Annie’s feet that Fletch loved the most. They were so Annie. Truck had bought the boots, had them specially made for her adoption ceremony. She’d worn them almost every day since. One night, while she’d watched Fletch polishing his dress shoes for the wedding ceremony, she’d insisted on Fletch showing her how to polish her own boots. So he’d taught his daughter how to buff, polish, and shine her boots, while he did the same with his shoes. It wasn’t exactly the father-daughter activity he thought he’d be engaging in, but he’d take it.
Annie smiled at him from the end of the aisle and she started toward him slowly, as she’d been trained. Her tongue stuck out in concentration as she picked a flower petal from her basket and dropped it on the floor. Her eyes were glued to her basket, trying not to mess up.
Fletch smiled. Her hair was wild around her face and shoulders, hanging loose. It was interesting that for a girl who eschewed anything feminine, she wouldn’t let anyone cut her long hair. He was thankful for that, because she had beautiful hair. Long, shiny, and thick. Yes, it was messy at the moment, but it was totally Annie.
Fletch heard the chuckles start from the back of the church and slowly move forward as Annie continued down the aisle. He wasn’t sure what everyone was laughing at until Ghost leaned into him and whispered, “Look at what she’s dropping in the aisle.”
Fletch’s eyes went from his daughter to the floor behind her—and he almost choked, trying to keep his chuckle from erupting.
Annie was dropping white flower petals, as she’d been instructed, but she was also dropping little green Army men. She’d reach into her basket, pull out a petal and drop it, then reach in and pull out an Army man. She continued down the aisle, alternating between sprinkling the floor with flowers and the toys.
As much as he wanted to scold her for being mischievous, he couldn’t. It was so freaking adorable. He worried about Emily stepping on one of the plastic toys and twisting an ankle though.
As soon as the thought went through his head, Dude, one of the SEALs, moved.
He was already sitting toward the back of the room, but he quickly walked back up the aisle and unobtrusively brushed the toys to the side of the aisle as he went, standing at the back of the church when he got to the end so as not to bring any more attention to himself.
Fletch relaxed. He didn’t know the SEAL team that well, but it was obvious Dude was the kind of man who took extreme care of his woman. Fletch would bet everything he owned the man had a daughter…one he was extremely protective of.
Annie got to the end of the aisle and beamed up at Fletch. “Hi, Daddy Fletch!” she said loudly. “I’m sooooo ready for you and mommy to get married. I mean, you’re already sleeping in the same bed, so that won’t change, but now mommy will be ‘Fletch’ too.”
Fletch felt the sheen of a blush make its way from the back of his neck through his cheeks and tried to ignore the chuckles from the men standing on his left. He went down on one knee and held out his arms to his daughter. Annie dropped her basket, flower petals and the few Army men that were left inside spilling out onto the altar, and threw herself into Fletch’s arms.
Fletch wrapped his arms around her small body and held her to him, inhaling the little girl smell of her as he buried his face into her neck. “I love you, sprite.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
“Now, go stand next to Rayne and let’s get this done, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Annie said, nodding enthusiastically. “Let’s get this done!” She ran back to her basket and kneeled down, her dress billowing out around her as she shoved the Army men back into the basket, ignoring the flower petals in a lump on the floor, then ran toward Rayne, shoving in between her and Mary.
The music changed to the “Wedding March,” all the guests stood and turned, and Fletch’s eyes whipped from the antics of his daughter to the entrance at the end of the aisle. The doors had been shut and two people—Fletch had no idea who they were, not that he cared—were standing there, each with a hand on a handle, ready to open them and admit Emily.
As if in slow motion, Fletch watched as the men stood back, opening the doors. The entryway was empty for a moment, before Emily stepped from the side into the doorway in all her wedding splendor.
Fletch’s breath hitched and he knew he actually gasped as he laid eyes on his bride for the first time. He hadn’t seen her dress before now, and it was absolutely stunning.
The front had a deep vee, showing off a hint of cleavage. The lace hugged her waist, outlining every curve of her delightful body. The lace extended from the bodice down her arms, covering her, but showing off her tanned skin beneath. The skirt flared out from her waist and hips into a slight train behind her. The flowers clutched in her grip were calla lilies, a simple and elegant bouquet. Fletch couldn’t see the back of her head and hairdo, but he knew it was complicated because she’d been at the beauty parlor for two hours earlier that day getting it done.
But it was the smile on her face and the anticipation and love in her gaze that drew him in the most. She kept her eyes on him as she slowly walked down the aisle. They’d talked about if she wanted to have his dad walk her down the aisle, as her own parents were deceased, but she’d declined, saying she was perfectly able to walk down the aisle by herself…besides, no one was giving her away, she was giving herself to him.
Fletch couldn’t take his eyes off her as she came toward him, just as hers stayed glued to his. About halfway down the aisle, she stumbled, surprise and horror showing in her face as she caught herself and stayed upright. Fletch’s feet were moving before he’d even thought about it. He vaguely noticed that three of the SEALs—plus TJ, the firefighter at Tiger’s side, and a few other men—had also shifted, as if they too were about to come to her aid.
But he got to Emily before anyone else, sliding his arm around her slender waist and pulling her into his side. He leaned down and said in her ear, “Our daughter decided to adorn the aisle with her precious Army men as well as flowers.”
; Emily’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. “I’d expect nothing less.”
The music continued in the background, but Fletch only had eyes for the woman he loved with all his heart. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” she returned immediately, softly.
Fletch didn’t know how long they would’ve stood there, staring at each other, but luckily Wolf, the leader of the SEALs, leaned into the aisle and said loudly, “We don’t have all day, man. You can eyeball her later. You’ve got vows to say!”
Fletch lifted his chin to the man, then turned back to Emily. He took a step back, held out his elbow and bowed slightly. “If I might escort you to the altar, my love?”
Emily immediately wrapped her hand around his arm and pressed into his side as she looked up at him and responded, “Please.”
So they walked arm in arm down the rest of the aisle until they reached the pastor, who was smiling widely at them, not looking at all put out at the delay or change in procedure. Fletch smiled over at Annie and winked, delighted when she awkwardly winked back at him.
Rayne took the bouquet from Emily and the pastor didn’t waste any time getting on with the ceremony. If asked, Fletch couldn’t have said what the man talked about, but figured it was the usual wedding ceremonial talk. All he could see was the love in Emily’s eyes when she gazed at him. All he could feel was the warmth of her body in front of his as he held her hands tightly in his own. All he could hear was his own quick breathing as he anxiously waited for his turn to say his vows.
Then finally it was time.
The pastor turned to him and said, “I understand you have written your own vows to each other.”
He and Emily nodded at the same time.
The pastor nodded in return, then put his hands behind his back and waited for Fletch to begin.
Emily had brought up the subject of them reciting their own vows to each other, and at first Fletch wasn’t that excited about the idea. He wasn’t sure what he should say and didn’t think he could match anything Emily came up with. But at the look of disappointment on his fiancée’s face, a look she’d tried to hide, he’d capitulated.