Page 116 of Fight for Me

Blane glanced down at the ring she was sliding onto his finger. It looked very unusual. A dark gray metal with some kind of inlay. Anne leaned forward and spoke softly.

“It’s made of titanium,” she said. “The inlay comes from a US Navy Destroyer and gold leaf.” She smiled. “Just for you.”

Blane was shocked. She’d had this custom-made for him. He raised his eyes from the ring.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

She smiled and he leaned down to kiss her.

“Not yet!” She hissed, a small giggle escaping her.

The audience tittered slightly as the bishop continued to drone on and on. Blane didn’t know what else there was to say. They’d said the vows. They’d done the rings. To his way of thinking, there was only one thing left. Kiss his bride. He turned to the bishop.

“Wrap it up,” he ordered.

Anne stifled a laugh but the audience didn’t. The bishop looked taken aback and stammered for a moment, then closed his Bible and smiled.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Finally.

Blane carefully turned back the veil covering Anne’s face. His heart skipped. She was so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at her. Her smile melted his heart and his chest felt too full.

Sweeping her up, he bent her over his arm and kissed her with all the passion, joy, and devotion that filled him to overflowing. Dimly, he heard the audience applaud, but all he could taste, all he could feel, was Anne. Sweet, lovely Anne. His wife.

Hiswife.

The orchestra began to play again,Ode to Joy, he thought. He set Anne back on her feet and was pleased to see she was breathless. Maria handed her back the bouquet, Kade handed him his hat, and Anne slipped her hand through his arm. He covered her hand with his as they descended the stairs. Maria hastened to straighten her train and the photographers walked backward in front of them, snapping photos all the way. For once, Blane didn’t mind. He wanted every moment of this day memorialized.

Fellow servicemen were waiting on the steps outside, their swords raised in the traditional arch for he and Anne to go through. She gasped and he glanced down at her. She was beaming.

“This is so cool.”

Blane laughed and took her hand in his for the stairs. The last two men crossed swords, preventing their passing. The photographers had scurried to the front, cameras raised as Blane drew Anne into his arms for the traditional kiss. She tasted so sweet, her lips soft.

The swords raised and they passed through, one of the men giving Anne a swat on the backside with the flat of his sword. She squealed, then laughed.

They got in the waiting limo, Blane helping her with the never-ending train before getting in himself. He shut the door and they were finally alone. Well, except for the driver, but the glass partition had been raised for privacy.

Blane wasted no time. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her again. She eagerly kissed him back.

He rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“Mrs. Kirk,” he said, “you look more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Mrs. Kirk,” she mused, smiling. “I like the sound of that.”

“You have made me so happy,” Blane said, his voice just above a whisper. He gazed into her eyes, feeling like a lovesick teenager on prom night.

“Oh, Blane.” Anne lightly kissed him, her fingers stroking his cheek. “I’m happy, too. So, so much.”

They spent a couple of hours taking photos with Kade, his wife, Maria and Brian, and her parents joining them. They took photos in a sumptuous garden as well as a couple of monuments—the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument.

The reception just continued the fairytale. The ballroom was packed, everyone dressed in tuxedos and gowns. Waiters drifted through the crowd, filling wine glasses. Dinner was exquisite, though it seemed as though Anne barely tasted anything. Blane kept touching her—her hand, her shoulder, her thigh. Just light touches, as though reassuring himself that she was still there.

Kade and Maria gave their toasts, each one making Anne both laugh and cry. Both Blane and she hugged them when they were finished as the crowd applauded. To avoid any speculation, Anne took a sip of champagne after each toast.

Their first dance was romantic. They cut the cake with Blane’s sword, which was apparently a tradition. Blane tossed her garter, and she tossed a silk bouquet made just for that purpose. They made their way through the guests, stopping every few steps to chat, shake hands, and accept congratulations.