“Come swim with me.” I wrinkle my nose. “Please.”
“Well, I am getting too hot, I suppose, but— Dylan!” I’m alarmed and grip tighter as he walks towards the pool. “Put me down!”
“Oh, okay. Sure.” He steps closer to the water, and I wriggle from his grasp. Wrong move. I brace myself for the cold as Dylan loses his grip on me, but the pool is heated. Breaking my head to the surface, I swim to where Dylan sits on the side of the pool.
“Every time, Dylan! Can’t you walk past water without throwing me in?” I splash him. The happiness shines in his eyes as he slides into the water.
“Your fault, you slipped.” He takes my arm and pulls me closer.
“Uh huh.”
Dylan holds me, our wet bodies sliding against each other, and kisses me with a stronger passion than recently. Above, the heat of the tropical day shines down on us. Life with Dylan is worth everything the world throws at me, because however hard they try, the world can’t touch us.
* * *
Tara lacesblue ribbon through my hair, after spending the best part of an hour attempting to tame the waves and arguing over why I won’t wear make-up.
“This.” I hold out the foundation to an unimpressed Tara. “The weather will mess this up. I’d rather marry Dylan without my make-up sliding across my face.”
She slaps me on the arm. “The weather’s not that bad today! At least it’s stopped raining.”
But hot. Stepping outside is like stepping into an oven, engulfing heat and humidity. The tropical rains don’t cool either, but today the sun chased away the clouds. “Maybe the outdoor wedding wasn’t such an amazing idea.”
Tara sighs. “Beach wedding... so romantic, Sky. You and Dylan....” Her eyes well with tears, and it’s my turn to slap her.
“Don’t, I’m emotional enough.” I suck in a breath and gaze out across the property to the pool I swam in with Dylan last night.
“He loves you so much. I’ve never seen anybody look at another person the way he looks at you. Well, apart from how you look at him.”
“I’m lucky.” I stand and brush the short, white cotton dress into place and pick up the small bunch of flowers. The scent of jasmine and frangipanis somehow soothe me. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is real. Not my new life, but that I met my soulmate.”
Tara’s eyes tear again. “Sky, that’s beautiful. Thank you for letting me be part of this.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I’d rather have you here than anybody else.”
My heart stutters as we head from the villa towards the path leading to the ocean. Couples who marry here usually choose the resort edge with panoramic views across the beautiful Balinese landscape. We never considered using the resort area laid out with chairs for numerous guests, sheltered beneath a large gazebo. There’s only one place I can marry Dylan. The beach.
I told Dylan I’m happy if he chooses casual for a beach wedding, and he refused point-blank; he told me he was wearing a suit on his wedding day. I joked I’d arrive in a bikini, sarong, and flip-flops and he shrugged. Then he said something really odd about how marrying me in Bali, far away from an airport, means I can’t escape and change my mind. I think he was only half joking.
I’m not nervous about the wedding at all. We tell each other every day how we feel, although he doesn’t need to because I share the strength of Dylan’s love and passion. This is a final commitment because thiswillbe final.
The simple gazebo decorated in flowers to match my hair and bouquet looks odd, the beach clear of everything and everybody but Dylan, the celebrant, and Tom. I walk across the white sand towards them. Oddly, Dylan crouches near the table focused on the ground. Tom nudges him, and he stands and looks round.
Dylan looks out of place in his designer suit on a tropical beach, but we could be anywhere, I don’t care. As I approach, he grabs my hand, tugs me towards him, and places a soft kiss on my lips.
I take in his full appearance, the black shirt open at the collar beneath the jacket, tailored trousers, but no shoes. This would amuse me if I wasn’t barefoot too.
“You didn’t go with the bikini idea, then?” he asks.
“No.”
“You look beautiful,” he whispers. “I’m happy you chose a ‘Sky dress.’”
I refused the designer options as always, the skirt’s cool cotton sweeps loose across my knees, spaghetti straps on my shoulders. Dylan touches the first necklace I ever allowed him to buy me, the one with sapphire to match my eyes and the ribbons in my hair.
I brush hair from his eyes, where his growing curls dip downwards. Already he looks like a different man to the one who crashed into my life eighteen months ago. Not only his hair, but the tired lines on his face and pale distance have retreated. Dylan’s blue eyes reflect the ocean, my man from the sea. Where else could we marry but here?
“You look hot,” I say.