“Don’t be ridiculous, Christian. I couldn’t force it on you. I thought Michael did a wonderful service.”
“He did.” Leaning forward, I kiss my mother on her forehead. She closes her eyes, and when she opens them again they burn with a curious intensity. “You look so happy, darling. I’m so thrilled for both of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I glance over to where Kate and Ana are in a deep conversation. Elliot is watching them. No. Elliot is watching Kate. He can’t take his eyes off her. Perhaps he cares for her more than he’s letting on.
The dance floor is full; Ray and Carla are taking a turn. They really do get on. I glance at my watch—it’s 5 p.m.—time we thought about leaving. I amble over toward my wife. Kate hugs her, hard, then grins at me, and I feel slightly less antagonistic toward her.
“Hi, baby.” I slip my arms around Ana and kiss her temple. “Kate,” I acknowledge her.
“Hello again, Christian. I’m off to find your best man, who happens to be my best man, too.” With a smile to us both, she heads over to Elliot, who is drinking with Ethan and José.
“Time to go,” I whisper.
I’m done with this party. I want to be alone with my wife.
“Already?” Ana says. “This is the first party I’ve been to where I don’t mind being the center of attention.” She turns in my arms and smiles up at me.
“You deserve to be. You look stunning, Anastasia.”
“So do you.”
“This beautiful dress becomes you.” I love how it reveals her enticing shoulders.
“This old thing?” She peers up at me, in that way that she does, all shy and bewitching through her lashes. She’s irresistible. Leaning down, I kiss her.
“Let’s go. I don’t want to share you with all these people anymore.”
“Can we leave our own wedding?”
“Baby, it’s our party, and we can do whatever we want. We’ve cut the cake. And right now, I’d like to whisk you away and have you all to myself.”
She giggles. “You have me for a lifetime, Mr. Grey.”
“I’m very glad to hear that, Mrs. Grey.”
“Oh, there you two are! Such lovebirds.”
Oh shit. Grandma Trevelyan strikes.
“Christian, darling—one more dance with your grandma?”
“Of course, Grandmother.” I swallow my sigh.
“And you, beautiful Anastasia, go and make an old man happy—dance with Theo.”
“Theo, Mrs. Trevelyan?”
“Grandpa Trevelyan. And I think you can call me Grandma. Now, you two seriously need to get working on my great-grandkids. I won’t last too much longer.” Her smile borders on the lecherous.
Grandma! Jesus!
“Come, Grandmother,” I say, hastily.
We have years before we have to think about kids.
I lead her slowly onto the dance floor, glancing apologetically back at Ana and rolling my eyes. “Laters, baby!”
Ana gives me a little wave.
“Oh, darling boy, you look so handsome in your suit. And your bride! Stunning. You’ll make beautiful children together.”
“One day, Grandmother. Are you enjoying the wedding?” I need to move her on to another subject.
“Your parents know how to throw a party. Of course, your mother gets that from me. Theo would rather be puttering around on the farm. But then you know that.”
“I do.” I have a stack of fond memories of helping Grandpa in his orchard. It’s one of my favorite places. “I’ll have to bring Ana to visit.”
“You must. You promise, now.”
“I promise.”
We shuffle around the dance floor to “Just the Way You Are,” a Bruno Mars track, which morphs into “Moves Like Jagger” by Maroon 5. My grandmother is loving it. I think she may have consumed a little too much Bollinger. But when the first few bars of “Sex on Fire” blast over the speakers, I decide it’s time to deliver Grandma back to her table.
Ana is not here. I sit down with Grandpa Trevelyan, and he tells me how he’s expecting a bumper harvest this fall. “Those apples’ll be the sweetest yet!”
“I can’t wait to try one,” I shout, because he’s a little hard of hearing.
“You happy, boy?” he asks.
“Very.”
“Yeah. You look it.” He pats my knee. “It’s good to see. Your bride, she’s a beautiful girl. You take good care of her, mind, and she’ll take good care of you.”
“I’m going to do just that. Right now, I’m going to find her. Good to see you, Grandpa.”
“I think she went to the restroom.”
I stand and Flynn approaches me, holding one of his boys, asleep on his shoulder. Rhian, his wife, holds the other—also out for the count.
“John!”
“Christian, congratulations. Lovely wedding.” He shakes my hand. “You know, I’d hug you, but I’m burdened with a small child, and I think it might breach my doctor-patient ethics.”
I laugh. “You’re good. Thanks for coming.”
“Good day, Christian,” Rhian says. “Great wedding. We have to take these two rascals home.”
“They were very well behaved.”
“That’s because we drugged them.” She winks.
I gasp.
“That’s a joke.” John side-eyes his wife. “Tempting though that might be on occasion, we’ve not resorted to it yet.”