Nathan led Emily down to the beach with the care one might extend to the gravely injured or elderly. She had lectured him twenty times in the six short weeks since they had returned to New York that pregnancy was not a debilitating condition, and she could work, exercise, and go about her normal life. Of course, that was before the two distinct beating hearts had been clearly visible in the internal ultrasound. Twins. She wasn’t even showing, but Nathan still handled her like porcelain. Maybe he always would.
The house in Nantucket was full to bursting this weekend. His team was camped out in the guest house, except for Ren who was arriving later from D.C., and Twitch who declared Chat’s snoring was unbearable and had claimed a room in the main house. For a guy who says nothing, he is the noisiest mofo sleeping I’ve ever heard.
Charlie and Maggie had come to New York to help Herc get settled, and the three of them had arrived on the island this morning. Emily’s father Jack was there and Nathan’s mother Serafina had arrived from London that morning. Emily was no fool. She knew what was coming. So, when Nathan took her hand and led her down to the beach, she was a little surprised by the flock of birds that had taken flight in her belly. Nathan was the picture of calm until he tripped on a piece of driftwood then quickly righted himself. Emily smiled; thank God she wasn’t the only one feeling nervous. She realized belatedly that Nathan was leading her to the exact spot where the picture of them as children had been taken. The sun was again a ball of orange in the sky, and Nathan pulled her close as it sank to a half-circle on the horizon.
“This is long overdue. I think we were a bit of a foregone conclusion. Doesn’t make me less nervous, though.”
“There’ll always be a bit of that goofy, insecure boy inside of you.”
With that, Nathan strummed an air guitar and made a face. Emily laughed.
“You feel okay? How’s the nausea?”
“Oh my God, if you don’t hurry it along, I’ll give birth on this beach.”
“Emily, will you marry me?” he blurted. “Oh damn, I forgot to get down on one knee. Should I do it now? Oh shit, wait. I have a ring. It’s right....” Nathan patted his pockets, but his search was halted when Emily grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him, slow and sure.
“No, to the knee. Yes, to the ring. And yes, to the proposal. Yes, Nathan Bishop, I will marry you. Finally.”
After an exhaustive search of his pockets, he located the small Harry Winston box in his pocket. Nathan cracked it open to reveal a four-carat, cushion-cut, pink diamond in a traditional platinum setting. He plucked it out of the velvet and slid in on her finger.
“You pick the violets; I’ll scare up a hand towel for your veil.”
And they did just that.
They were married on the beach four weeks later, the crisp October breeze cooling the air to a mild-for-Nantucket seventy degrees. Emily wore a simple white cap sleeve gown with a violet ribbon that ran along the empire waist and down the back of the skirt. Serafina had helped her choose it—well, if “helped her choose” meant “had the designer fly in at the last minute and create it to their specifications.” With a Victorian lace hand towel pinned into her hair, she carried a nosegay of violets. Nathan waited with the minister as she walked barefoot down the runner with her father. It was a short walk—fifty were in attendance—but by the time Emily was halfway, Nathan was ready to meet her there and haul her under the bower. Tox’s massive hand on his shoulder stayed him. When she finally arrived, after what Nathan estimated to be a good hour, she met his gaze with a serene and glassy smile. Caroline, dressed in a simple lavender sheath, took the small bouquet and gave Emily a wink. The guys had opted not to wear dress whites. Ren, Chat, and Tox stood behind Nathan in khaki pants, blue blazers, and matching pear green Ferragamo ties, a gift from Jack. Nathan was similarly clad, except he wore the cornflower blue tie. Emily clutched it as she steadied herself. Nathan held her elbows gently.
“Ready?”
“So ready.”
He rested his hand on her barely rounded belly.
“How’s the team?”
“Sleepy like mommy.”
“Then let’s get you married so we can get you to bed.”
“Why do I think that won’t get me any rest?”
The minister cleared his throat. Nathan grinned.