James PATTERSON - Cross Fire

“Of course,” she said. You could just see the dollar signs getting smaller in her eyes. “Well, why don’t you look around a little more, and I’ll be in the office if you have any questions.”

Once she was gone, we walked outside to see the terrace. It was a perfect spring day, and easy to imagine a wedding happening here.

“Any questions?” Bree said.

“Yes.” I took her hand and pulled her in. “Is this where we’d have our first dance?”

We started swaying right there while I hummed a few bars of Gershwin in her ear. No, no, they can’t take that away from me…

“You know what?” Bree said suddenly. “This place is absolutely gorgeous. I love it.”

“Then it’s settled,” I said.

“Except I think we should skip it.”

I stopped dancing and looked at her.

“I don’t need to spend the next few months thinking about what color the invitations are going to be or who’s going to sit next to who,” she said. “That’s someone else’s wedding, not mine. Not ours. I just want to be married to you. Like now.”

“Now?” I said. “Like – now?”

She laughed and reached up to kiss me. “Soon anyway. After Damon comes home from school. What do you think?”

I didn’t have to think. All I needed out of this wedding was for it to be exactly what Bree wanted – fancy mansion or Washington courthouse, I didn’t care. As long as she was there.

“After Damon comes home, then,” I said, and sealed the deal with another kiss. “Next question: do you think we can sneak out the back, or do we have to tell Mimi?”

THE BACKYARD WAS BEAUTIFUL, the way everyone did it up for us. Sampson, Billie, and the kids had put little white lights in the trees, and candles everywhere you looked. There was jazz in the air, and a dozen high-backed chairs arranged on the patio for the friends and family we’d invited on short notice.

The kids stood up with us for the ceremony – Ali, with the rings; Jannie, beaming in the beautiful white dress we’d let her splurge on; and Damon, looking like a taller and much more self-aware and confident version of the kid we’d dropped off at Cushing last fall.

As for Bree, no surprise, she was stunning in a simple white strapless dress. Simple and perfect in my eyes. She and Jannie had the same little white flowers in their hair, and Nana sat proudly in the front row with a single hibiscus tucked over her ear and a sparkle in her eyes that I hadn’t seen in the last few years.

At six thirty sharp, our pastor from St. Anthony’s, Dr. Gerry O’Connor, nodded to Nana that it was time to start the proceedings. She’d made one request for today – that she be allowed to offer up a convocation of her own sort.

“I believe in marriage,” she said, standing up to address the group. You could hear the church in her voice already. “More specifically, I believe in this marriage.”

She came over to where Bree and I were standing and took each of us by the hand. “You two haven’t asked me for this, but I’m giving you to each other tonight and I am so honored to do it.

“Bree, I never knew your parents, God rest their souls, but I have to believe they’d be pleased as punch to see you marrying my grandson. This man is a good man,” she said, and I could see a few rare tears brimming in her eyes. “He’s my one and only, and I don’t share that lightly.

“And you,” she said, turning to me. “You have hit the jackpot here, mister.”

“Don’t have to tell me that,” I said.

“No, but when did that ever stop me? This woman is love, Alex. I can see it on her face when she looks at you. I can see it when she looks at the children. I can even see it when she looks at loquacious, silly old me. I’ve never known a woman more generous with her spirit. Have you?” she asked the larger group, and they all came back with a decisive “No!” or, in a few cases, “No, ma’am!”

“That’s right,” she said, and leveled a bony finger at me. “So don’t ever mess it up!”

She sat back down while everyone else was still laughing, many of us through our own tears. Just a few words, but she seemed to have covered everything beautifully.

“All yours, Pastor,” she said.

And when Dr. O’Connor opened his book to begin, and I took in that circle of smiling faces around me – my best friend, John Sampson; my grandmother; my beautiful children; and this amazing woman, Bree, whom I’d come to realize I couldn’t even imagine trying to live without – I knew that his first two words could not have more perfectly captured everything that was in my heart and mind at that exact moment.

Those words were “Dearly Beloved.”

THE BEST PARTY EVER lasted long into the night. We didn’t skimp on the food, bringing in a friend’s catering company for endless amounts of jerk pork, coconut rice, fried plantains, and something Sampson had decided to call a Breelex. It was two kinds of rum, pineapple, ginger, and a cherry – or just pineapple, ginger, and a cherry for the kids, although Damon sampled the adult beverage once, that I know of.

Jerome Thurman jammed with his combo, Fusion, in the backyard, where there was plenty of dancing under the stars and even a little bad singing from me, after a Breelex or two. Or three. The kids said I was “pitchy” and “absolutely dreadful.”

We were all up bright and early the next morning, though. A cab took us to the airport for a flight to Miami, and then on to Nassau. At the other end, a limo picked us up and whisked us off to the aptly named One & Only Ocean Club.

Bree and I had seen this place in my favorite James Bond movie, Casino Royale, and I swore I’d get her here one day. The Bond jokes started as soon as we pulled into the familiar teardrop-shaped driveway, with the drool-worthy cars everywhere you looked.

“Cross,” she said as I helped her out of the limo. “Bree Cross.”

She’d surprised a lot of people, I think, by taking my name. It was entirely up to her, but I loved that she did. I liked hearing it as much as saying it.

“Dr. and Mrs. Cross, checking in,” I told the gracious, very welcoming woman at the front desk. Bree squeezed my hand, and we laughed like a couple of kids. Or maybe just a couple of newlyweds. “How soon do you think we can be out in that ocean in your backyard?”

“I’d say about three and a half minutes,” the woman told us, and slid our keys across the desk. “You’re all set here. That’s one double suite in the Crescent Wing and one ocean-side villa. Enjoy your stay.”

“Oh, we will!” Jannie had just come up behind us. Nana, Damon, and Ali were still outside ogling the white sand beach and turquoise water. It really was turquoise.

“Here you go, Miss J.” I handed her the suite key. “I’m officially putting you in charge of that, and we’ll see you guys for lunch tomorrow.”

“Daddy, I still think you’re crazy for bringing us,” she said, and leaned in as if she had a secret to tell. “But I’m really glad you did.”

“Me, too,” I whispered back.

Besides, it would still be a honeymoon. That’s what DO NOT DISTURB signs are for.

OUR VILLA WAS the piece de resistance. Just like in the movies, as they say. There was a full wall of sliding louvered doors that opened up to a private terrace and infinity pool, with stairs leading down to the beach. The staff had placed fresh flowers everywhere, inside and out, and the mahogany California king bed alone probably cost a year’s salary.

“Yeah, this will do,” I said, closing the door to the outside world behind us. “Good enough for Double Oh Seven, and all that.”