"Relax," Keefe told himself, wiping a clammy hand on the sleeve of his suit coat. "Just concentrate, and breathe —"
A twig snapped behind him.
Anxiously, be filled his lungs with cool, salty air. Sophie had been the one to choose their location. Keefe hadn't argued, but unfortunately, the beach reminded him of his father's home.
A terrible place for a beautiful event.
Nonetheless, it was beautiful. The sea was nearly satin, silk in its movements and slick in its occasional plummets.
"Can I turn around?" Keefe barely managed to keep his eyes forward. His head ached to turn, his eyes bugged to inhale her appearance.
"Not yet," Sophie's soft voice replied, accompanied by a smooth ocean breeze. "Give me a minute."
"I'm dying to see you."
He knew she was blushing as she said, "It's just a dress, Keefe."
"A wedding dress, Foster. Did you forget that?"
"I'm tempted to shove you."
Keefe smirked. "Can I please turn around?"
"No!" Sophie's honey-sweet voice hardened into worry. "I . . . I'm too nervous."
Keefe frowned.
She was nervous? His heart had been occupied by butterflies for at least a week in anticipation of today, and she was telling him this?
"It's just me, you know," Keefe said.
"I hate to break it to you, Sencen, but you still make me nervous."
Keefe laughed. "First," he began, reaching for the leaves of a nearby palm tree, "do not call me that; I won't be a Sencen much longer so there's no need. Second," he continued, "I don't make you nervous — I just give you butterflies."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
Keefe smiled off into the distance. "Nah. I'd explain it to you, but I'm sure you're not up for another empathy conversation —"
"I'd love one," Sophie insisted, dodging yet another chance for Keefe to see his bride in her gown.
"No, you really wouldn't."
Keefe started to turn, but Sophie squeaked, effectively keeping him the other direction. He sighed. "If we're getting married, love, I need you to trust me."
"I do," she promised. Keefe guessed she was biting her lips. "I'm just scared you won't like how I look."
"Impossible."
"Very possible."
Laughing, Keefe offered the best assurance he could. "Foster, you could wear a garbage bag and still look beautiful."
That was setting the bar pretty low.
"Just don't laugh," Sophie begged.
"Why on earth would I laugh?"
"Because you're Keefe Sencen."
A pleasant smirk crossed his face. "Well I have a rather beautiful bride. And the only thing I'd be laughing about is how I pale in comparison to her."
"You did not just say that."
"I did."
A laugh fell from Sophie's lips. "Who are you?"
"Your future husband."
A smile inevitable in her voice, Sophie tracked across the sand and planted herself behind Keefe. He could feel her gentle breath warming his cheeks as her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"You're trying to distract me," he mumbled.
"Is it working?"
He fought a groan of pleasure. "Absolutely."
Sophie giggled. "Why do you even have to see me before the wedding? This is stupid."
"Uh, it's not stupid. I want to see you."
"I'm nothing special."
"That's where you're wrong." Keefe reached behind him and caught Sophie's hand in a tight embrace. "I'm going to turn around, okay?"
Sophie took a long few moments to agree, but the all-consuming bliss was a worthy reward when she did.
Slowly, Keefe spun in a circle, giving himself only a moment of preparation. And that moment happened to be not nearly enough, because he choked on air when he saw her.
Breathe, he reminded himself. Sophie was blushing profusely.
Layers of white silk fell from her bodice, bleeding into the white sand like waterfalls. Tulle cinched her waist, tied back into a sash at the small of her back. There were too many things to study — too many things to memorize. Too many details and materials and beauties.
"Keefe?" Sophie whispered, jerking him back to reality with her next comment. "Do I look okay?"
His lips finally found a smile. "You have such a poor vocabulary, Foster. Okay is not the word I would use to describe you."
"What is?"
Keefe watched her breathe, happy it was possible. Her bodice was snug, but not so tight that it restricted her breathing patterns. It was a miracle that she was smiling in a dress of any kind, much less her wedding dress.
"Heavenly," he decided on.
Sophie smiled, the shyness in her face as prominent as the gold flecks in her eyes. "Heavenly?"
"Yes. It means something divine —"
"I know what it means."
Keefe smiled. "Good — then you must be aware of how smitten I am."
Sophie sighed. "Are you going to kiss me?"
"Are you willing to offer one?" he countered.
"It's a limited time offer."
"Oh?" Keefe grabbed her by the waist, careful to mind the delicate dress, and kissed her with the very desire of his core.
Sophie smiled, her lips against his, and rested her hands on his warm, steady chest. "Lifetime guarantee," she decided.
