Take This Man (2 page)

Turtle Tear came into view, the tips of the leaves on the highest trees already a brilliant burgundy in the late November sun. I’d always wanted a fall wedding. It might be the season when everything died off, but for me, it was about the smell of a bonfire in the air, the sharp crack of acorns falling on the roof, the crunch of crisp leaves underfoot, and the chill in the air. Nothing was better than the cool nights with a blanket and the man you love snuggled up on the couch.

Merrick landed the helicopter in the clearing. There were already two others there. “You did put a lot of planning into this, didn’t you?”

He lifted his chin proudly. “Oh yeah. Not just me, though.”

“I can tell.” I couldn’t stop smiling. It felt like my cheeks would crack. I knew today would be the happiest day of my life, but having Merrick whisk me away—again—to the place I loved and belonged… it was overwhelming.

“Stay there. I’m going to lift you down so you don’t accidentally tear your dress.” Merrick hopped out of the pilot’s seat and jogged around the front to my side, where he helped me unbuckle the harness and tossed me over his shoulder, laughing.

“It’s like I’m being kidnapped to the aisle!”

“Nope! You’re going willingly, I hope.” He started across the tall grass toward a waiting golf cart decorated in white tulle. “Your chariot awaits,” he said, putting me on my feet beside it.

All the way down the shadowed path to the hotel, clear glass votive holders flickered with candles hung at different lengths from tree branches. But there were other things, different shapes, frames, I thought, hanging from a few of the branches as well.

I stood still, one hand pressed to my lips, in awe. Emotion spurring chill bumps up both arms. “This is a dream, Merrick.”

He held me from behind, his arms wrapped around my waist. “You’re my dream, Rachael. I wanted to give you the perfect day. One you’ll never have regrets about.”

I spun in his arms, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips to his. So warm and familiar, so comforting and secure. Home. Husband. Best friend. I cherished this man, treasured him. Always.

In the distance, I heard a cello playing, its melody drifting through the trees. “Beck,” I said, breaking our kiss and grinning up at Merrick.

“Our own personal cellist.”

“Fancy.” I kissed him again quickly. “Let’s get this chariot moving, Mr. Rocha. I have vows to take.”

“Funny, so do I,” he said, slipping in behind the wheel.

On our way down the path, Merrick began to sneak expectant looks in my direction as we approached the first frame hanging from a branch. He stopped in front of it. When I saw who was in the photo, I immediately began to sob.

There in an ornate, rectangular cherry frame was my dad with me on his lap as a little girl. The picture was one of my favorites—my mom knew that. She must’ve picked it out. It was taken on Christmas Eve. I was eight. Everyone—grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins—was at our house, packed into the small family room. I could still smell the ham in the oven and the cigar smoke on my dad’s shirt.

His unruly dark, wavy hair was brushed back and shiny with some kind of gel or hair wax. I was on one knee and he balanced a drink of some kind on the other. We both had wide smiles on our faces, me missing two front teeth.

Merrick brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Looks like he loved you a lot. Wish I could’ve met him.”

I turned to look at Merrick. His dark eyes held such sincerity. More tears rolled down my face. “He would’ve liked you.”

Merrick took my hands in his. “Since I couldn’t ask him for your hand, I wrote him a letter. I took it out by the gazebo and burned it, thinking maybe the wind would blow the ashes to Heaven.”

There was no keeping the sobs wracking through my chest at bay. I leaned into Merrick’s shoulder and cried bittersweet tears. Happy to have such a wonderful man, sad that my dad would never know him. “Thank you. I know he got it—he knows what you wanted to tell him.”

He kissed my temple and stroked my back as I took a few minutes to collect myself and regain my composure. When I was finally ready, we moved on. “Am I going to bawl my brains out at each photo?”

Merrick squeezed my hand and chuckled. “No. That was the only one.”

About a yard away, a second frame dangled on a ribbon. This one was oval and beaded with what looked to be blue and green sea glass. The photo was of a woman and there was no mistaking who she was. Merrick might be the spitting image of his father, but this woman with her expressive smile—she was laughing in the photo and the way she held her head, her mannerisms—was definitely his mom.

I put a hand on his arm. He placed his hand over mine, but kept his eyes on the photo. “I can still hear her laugh,” he said. “It had this ring, almost like a bell, but not a feminine tinkling, a deeper clang, I guess. She really let it out. You couldn’t help but laugh with her when she got started. I don’t remember a lot about her, but that’s what I remember the most. Her laugh.”

He turned to me then, his dark eyes shining. “You remind me of her. Well, not her exactly, just the way I remember feeling when she would tuck me in, or hold me. Like everything would be okay because she was there. Like I didn’t need anything else, just her. That’s how it is with you. As long as I have you, nothing else matters.”

I stroked his cheek. “I’m glad you remember those feelings and had her in your life even for a short time.” His childhood had been so terrible after she died, stuck with a father who lied, manipulated, and neglected him and his sister. “I know she’s proud of you and the man you’ve become.”

“I hope so.” He picked up my hand and kissed my fingertips before moving on down the path.

My eyes spotted one last suspended frame swaying gently up ahead. Merrick’s mood seemed to rise as we approached, his smile broadening, his eyes hinting at playfulness. “This ought to be good,” I said, making him laugh.

“Just wait.” He slowed to a stop beside the large, dangling frame. There was nothing fancy about it. It was black—and empty other than a white mat. From the right bottom corner of the matting, a black ink tree was sketched, jutting up with branches sprouting over the right top corner. On the tree trunk was drawn a heart, and inside that heart was written
Merrick and Rachael Rocha
, and the date.

The handwriting was familiar. I couldn’t believe he’d done this. “Merrick… you drew this?”

His dimples and the gleam in his eye couldn’t be contained. “I did. It’s the start of our family tree. We’ll put our wedding photo in it and eventually a family photo and then a photo with our grandkids.” He took me by the chin. “And in fifty years when we’re old and gray, we’ll renew our vows here on the island and have a new wedding photo to frame.”

Merrick kissed me then, a firm kiss, full of confidence, promises that would be kept, a lifetime of adventures to share and a family to love. My heart was on a precipice, ready to fall over the edge and burst with its fullness.

He took my face between his hands and nuzzled my nose with his. “Are you ready to get married now? To become my wife?”

I almost laughed with so much joy inside. “I’ve
been
ready!”

Then we did laugh and held each other until our giddy excitement was interrupted by the squawk of a walkie-talkie clipped to the visor followed by MJ’s voice. “NBT to Big Papa, what’s your ETA?”

Still chuckling, Merrick closed his eyes and shook his head. “NBT?” I asked. “Big Papa?”

“MJ’s idea,” he said. “He says he’s the NBT—Next Big Thing—and that even though he’s my little brother, he’d always think of me as Big Papa.”

I slid my hand up his thigh. “Big Papa, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

“I want to hear you scream it tonight.” He shrugged his eyebrows up and down.

“Big Papa,” MJ said into the walkie-talkie. “Come in, Big Papa. Looking for an ETA here. Riley’s got his thong in a knot about putting the cake out too soon.”

“Forget the damn cake.” Beck’s voice now, fainter than MJ’s. “I’ve got a gator fifty yards from the gazebo. Get it gone—now!”

“Fine!” Riley’s voice now. “You fly in the cake from L.A. next time, tough man, and figure out how much defrosting time it needs so it’s not frozen solid or a ball of mush for photos.”

Beck let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, that will always be all you.”

“Don’t act all muscles and tats with me. You’re in touch with your feminine side, Mr. Cello.”

“Big Papa!” MJ yelled this time. “ETA.”

Merrick and I couldn’t stop laughing. “You put those three stooges in charge of
my
wedding?” I gave him a playful whack on the arm.

He rolled his eyes. “Trust me, my selection of helpers was limited. Maddie and Shannon are around somewhere, though. Never fear.” He pressed his foot to the accelerator and picked up the walkie-talkie. “Big Papa to NBT. ETA five minutes.”

Five minutes and I’d be walking down the aisle.

Five minutes and this man beside me would be mine forever.

Five minutes and I’d become Mrs. Merrick Rocha.

My palms sweat on the steering wheel. How could I entrust the details of Rachael’s perfect wedding to Beck, MJ, and Riley? I wanted to grab the walkie-talkie and demand to know where Maddie was. She was the only one I trusted in this situation. Shannon was too easily distracted, and Jan and Rachael’s mom, Sylvia, were probably busy bickering.

“Is it okay if we stop at the hotel for a couple minutes?” Rachael asked. “I need to fix my makeup for the hundredth time.”

“Yes. Absolutely.” This couldn’t have been planned better. The stooges would get a little more time to make sure the last-minute things were completed at the gazebo. Knowing Rachael, that was the whole point of stopping, not really the makeup check.

Inside the hotel, the lounge was dark and cool. Rachael went upstairs and I sat on one of the leather sofas and leaned my head back. I knew I should be savoring this time, this entire day, but I couldn’t wait for it to be over and have Rachael all to myself. Starting our lives together was something we’d already done—not as husband and wife for another few minutes, but the pomp and circumstance was only confirmation that we’d always be together. I’d known that since the first time I heard her voice.

I thought about my vows. I’d never spoken a word of them aloud, and each time I’d thought of what I would say, something new came to mind. But it was only Rachael and I and our friends and her family. If I stumbled a little with phrasing or had to repeat myself, nobody would mind. I knew it would come out best if I was genuine and my words flowed naturally. I didn’t want to sound rehearsed.

This was the last time I’d sit in this room—be in this hotel, our home—as a single man. I stood up, unable to keep myself from going to Rachael. Today, the distance from downstairs to up was too great standing between us.

I strode down the hall into the entryway and hit the bottom of the grand, turning staircase just as she was gliding down in her gown, one hand sliding down the railing beside her.

My breath caught.

I could only imagine how I looked standing there gawking up at my soon-to-be wife.

I’d fallen into a storybook wedding scene—our castle, my princess. Movies were made from moments like this. Little girls dreamed of moments like this. The way Rachael’s face beamed, even if I hadn’t already known she’d dreamed of this moment, it was plain for anyone to see.

“You’ve stolen my…” I took a deep breath. “My everything. It’s all there, inside you. Yours for the keeping.”

She put a hand to her chest, over her heart. “Same.”

I started up the stairs to meet her, stopping when I was one step below my bride, gazing up at her. “Thank you,” I whispered.

She knew what for—everything.

Her eyes rose over my head and swept across the wall murals of bright birds and trees, streams and flowers, catching the light pouring through the windows over the double hacienda doors. “Thank
you
,” she whispered back, both of us lost in our moment of reverence.

I held her then, resting my ear against her chest, listening to the solid, strong beat of her heart. A heart that held an unlimited supply of love, understanding, and forgiveness. Her fingers tickled the back of my neck. Her check pressed against the top of my head. I would’ve been a content man standing there for the rest of my days.

“We should go,” she said. “Don’t you think? Everyone’s waiting.”

I never wanted to move from this spot. “We could let them find us and get married right here.” I squeezed her tighter until she let out a little squeak and started laughing. “You’re probably right. We should go.”

I took her hand and escorted her the rest of the way down the stairs. In the center of the entryway, under the big mangrove root chandelier, I scooped her up and spun her in circles just to hear her laugh echo up to the top of the three-story-high ceiling.

“Best day ever!” she shouted, her head thrown back.

“Hell with it.” Overtaken by the urge to keep her all to myself for a bit longer, I darted toward the front doors and swung them open before she could protest. “This is our day. They can wait.” I carried her over the threshold onto the wide front porch.

“Merrick Rocha, impulsive?” Rachael rolled her eyes at me. “Never.” She kissed me, her hands cradling my face. I lowered her to her feet, sliding her body down against mine. She pulled her lips away all too soon. “Let’s not get all worked up before the ceremony. We don’t have
that
much time.”

“I can be quick,” I said, and tugged up the back of her dress a few inches.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the steps to the crushed shell courtyard below, her lace train trailing behind her. “I have things to say that I can’t put in my vows and have my mother hear.”

I knew what she was referring to—our extremely nontraditional first night together, which led into forever together. It was definitely something her mother never needed to know about. Sylvia would never forgive me even if her daughter had.

We strolled across the courtyard and under the bows of the key lime trees in the island’s grove. The sticky sweetness still lingered in the air even in fall when there was no fruit hanging from the branches. Rachael draped her train over her arm, ducked under one of the tallest trees, and perched on an old wooden bench, turning green from age and dappled in moss across the back.

I’d never wished I had a camera so badly in all my life. Sitting there in the grove, she was Queen of Turtle Tear Island, ruler of my life. “Don’t ever move from that spot. You were born to sit right there in that dress until the end of time.”

She shot me an ornery look. “What if I have to pee?”

“Go quick and run right back.”

She patted the empty spot beside her. When I sat down, she took my hands in hers. “I know I was born to be here. And we both know I never would’ve stepped foot on this island if you hadn’t made it so. With Dad being gone for a year, I should’ve been able to tell my mom what I wanted and taken the job you offered for myself, but I didn’t—I couldn’t leave her yet. You not taking no for an answer saved my life, Merrick. I can’t imagine where I’d be without you and this place. Nowhere I’d want to be. Not here—home. I know that night is still something you look back on with… well, not regret, I don’t think. Not exactly…”

“No. Never regret, Rachael. Embarrassment would be the appropriate sentiment.”

She rubbed her thumbs over the backs of my hands. “Never think you should’ve done otherwise. Was drugging me and bringing me here illegal? Hell yes.” She laughed, giving me an escape from my humiliation. “But at the time, I’m not sure there was any other way to get me here. I would’ve never left my mother on my own, and you wouldn’t have been able to convince me to go with you.” She gazed up at me from under her eyelashes, such an innocent, beguiling look. “Plus it’s how you operate. Never a straight line to any destination, you’re all over the map—that’s the genius of you. You see things from all directions, not just one. Most people would give up way before you ever start. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. You want something, you make it yours no matter the cost. I couldn’t be more blessed that you saw me as someone you had to have.”

Talking about when we first met brought back every desperate desire I’d had. “After talking to you during our interview, there was no way I was hiring anyone else to renovate Turtle Tear. It was you or this place was staying in a heap of rubble. It was too important to trust to anyone less enthusiastic. You were in love with this hotel, with its history. I’d never seen so much passion in a person before. You were this huge force tucked inside this woman who was content to put everyone else’s needs before your own. I couldn’t let that fire get snuffed out of you. It would’ve been a bigger crime than… than
whisking you away
and bringing you here.”

Rachael grinned. “A crime of
passion
.”

“Exactly.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles. “More passion than I’d bargained for, thank God.”

A four-wheeler buzzed by the end of the grove. “I think the vultures are circling,” Rachael said, turning her head toward the sound fading in the distance. “I’m ready. Are you?”

“Ms. DeSalvo—and this is the last time I will call you Ms. DeSalvo—I’ve been ready to make you my wife since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

“Mr. Rocha—this is
not
the last time I will call you Mr. Rocha—take me to the end of the aisle already!”

I stood, grabbed her up off the bench, and tossed her over my shoulder. “Let’s get you to the altar caveman style.”

Rachael laughed and kicked her feet, her delicate beaded shoes glinting in the sun. “Caveman style, huh? Maybe you could show me a little more of that after the ceremony?” She grabbed my butt and squeezed.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you after the ceremony.” I returned her butt squeeze by turning my head and giving hers a bite through her lacy dress.

“Hey!” She squirmed, but I held on tight.

“I can’t believe you felt that through all of this lace.” I snaked a hand up the bottom of her dress. “Let’s see if you have undies on under here.”

She hugged her thighs together, trapping my hand. “You’ll have to just wait and find out!”

“I’m no good at waiting. How about I toss you down on the ground and find out right now?” I wiggled my fingers, tickling her thigh.

She squealed with laughter. “Stop! Merrick!”

I let her catch her breath before setting her on her feet, taking her face in my hands and kissing her. Caveman style.