Seems she's going to be surprised.
“You're back!” I call out when they’re close enough to hear me. It makes them happy. That's all I want.
They swing down from their horses, looping the reins around the support posts of the enclosure. Dressed all in white, trousers and open neck cotton shirts, they look like they have just stepped out of a fairytale. They're both smiling at me, deeply and truly, sunburnt with dimples that stretch all the way up to their eyes.
“Of course we’re back,” Dillon grins. “Had to come get our Princess.”
“Deacon Burberry,” the third man says, offering me his handshake. His New Zealander accent is clipped and charming.
I glance at Dillon, wondering how he found a religious leader to perform the ceremony. As though he knows exactly what I'm thinking, Dillon just winks at me. He is the master of the spectacle, the magician, always.
“You got the rings?” Deacon Burberry asks Emmet, who nods and plunges his hand into his pocket, drawing out two gold rings with diamonds as big as pearls.
“You could see these from space, pretty sure. Lost the receipt, too,” he quips.
“Perfect,” the Deacon says. “Let's just get in the water, then. Up to our ankles, sounds good. Let's just bring mother nature right into the middle of it, yeah?”
“Yes, let's,” I agree, charmed and dazzled.
Emmet and Dillon stand on either side of me, taking my hands. They lead me forward and as our toes breach the first wave, I can feel how right this is. Deacon Burberry walks backward in front of us, grinning like a fool, his curly, sandy, salty hair falling over his sky-blue eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, right to there,” the Deacon smiles.
Dillon squeezes my hand, and I look up at him smiling, then swivel my head to look up at Emmet too. My two beautiful billionaires. My two, perfect, fairytale princes, here to make some more magic.
“All right then,” the Deacon begins. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to formalize the union of these two fine lads and this beautiful lady. Are we all agreed?”
“Yes, we certainly are,” we all laugh, offering variations on our agreement.
“Outstanding,” he continues. “Emmet Riordan, do you take this lady to be y
our wedded lass, now and forever, until the sea dries up under our feet?”
The sun is behind him, haloing his hair as he smiles down on me.
“I do,” he answers softly.
“Well that's settled,” Deacon smirks. “And do you, Dillon Riordan, take this fine lady to be your wedded last now and forever, until the damn sea dries up under your feet too?”
I stare at him, noting his glistening eyes, his unabashed smile. I feel his love pouring down on me like rain.
“You bet I do,” he answers without a moment’s hesitation.
“And now you, darling… Do you, Isabella Dolores Cage, take both of these fine, strong Riordan boys as your husbands, equal in your love and respect, for all the rest of your days?”
“I do!” It comes out by itself. As does the mist that springs to my eyes.
The Deacon holds up his hands, arms out, as each wave splashes around his muscled calves.
“Then by the power vested in me, by God and nature and all of whatnot, I pronounce thee married! All three of you! Congratulations!”
Emmet kisses me first, laughing into my lips and hugging me so hard he squeezes the air out of me. Thoughtfully, he releases me so Dillon can kiss me as well, not quite before I’m able to catch my breath. I nuzzle his stubbly cheeks and neck, and he puts one hand on the small of my back and kisses my hair, and finally my lips.
For a few minutes we stand there, laughing in the surf, trying to get our heads around what's just happened. The Deacon salutes us as he gets back on his horse and rides off, wishing us well and hoping that we have lots of babies, he says.
“Can I call you Isabella now?” Dillon asks when he catches his breath.
“Um, I think you better not!” I protest. “Nobody has called me that since I was eleven. I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now.”