Back to You (13 page)

“I have breakfast in bed to finish… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tease, making my way back to the bed and my uneaten edible surprise.

Surprise! That reminds me…

“Hey,” I say over my shoulder. “You said you had a few surprises. Are there more?”

“As a matter of fact, there are,” he says with another heart melting smile.

I return to the bed and start to slice the waffle into bite-sized pieces, but I stop, stunned when Declan gets on one knee on the floor beside me. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask.

“Mia Murphy,” he takes my hand and I notice a slight glisten in his eyes. “Will you marry me—again?”

“Dec, what are you doing? Stop being silly.”

He remains in his position on the floor, waiting for an answer. “I’m serious, Mi. I made arrangements to have our vows renewed tomorrow morning on the beach. I want to do it all over again—make you mine forever and make good on the vows we promised each other five years ago. So, I’ll ask you again, will you be my wife—forever?”

He was right when he said surprise. I never could have imagined this. It’s so romantic, so unexpected, so… Declan. “Of course! Of course I’ll marry you again!” I squeal.

He takes my answer as permission to leap at me and roll me all around the bed in his arms.

I laugh at how easy it is to fall into these old wonderful patterns. We roll over to the far side of the bed and start to lose ourselves in the make-up kiss of all make-up kisses. “I guess I’m never gonna get to eat that breakfast, am I?” I laugh against his lips.

“I’ll give you something to eat, Mrs. Murphy.”

I lick my lips, “Mmmm, delicious!” And then I dive right back into our kiss.

We spent most of the day on the beach tanning, laughing, making out and napping. It’d been forever since we enjoyed something as simple as the feel of the sand beneath our toes and the waves of the ocean crashing on the shore—just the two of us. It was exactly like one of those Corona commercials—but we switched out the beer for champagne.

That’s right, we had something to celebrate. We toasted to unending happiness and the only thing that could have made it better was if Declan had brought his guitar. Having him serenade me to something from our never ending playlist of favorites would have been a dream, but he promised me his wheels were turning and he couldn’t wait to get into the studio when we got back.

After we fooled around some more and showered off the day, we head into town to do some shopping for the ceremony tomorrow. I hadn’t thought to pack anything remotely suitable for marrying the love of my life all over again. And Declan’s intent on both of us getting decked out in something semi-traditional. I remind him that I’m certainly no blushing bride, but he won’t have it any other way. “My golden beauty’s going to look like an angel dressed in white. That’s the way I picture it—just humor me.”

It’s the least I can do for all he’s done in making these arrangements so I nod and lean in for a kiss. Even though we’re enjoying the stroll in the quaint little town together, we decide it best to separate for an hour so that we can each surprise the other with what we find.

After purchasing the absolute perfect flowing dress in cream lace, I spot an antique shop that’s just too adorable to pass up. I’m sure I can find something to wear in my hair and maybe even a gift for my once-again groom.

I step into the shop and I’m welcomed by a dinging bell and the smell of must and lilac. I’ve always loved all things vintage and antique so this place to me is like a candy store to a kid. There are so many things I want to see and touch, but I know I don’t have much time until I have to meet up with Declan at the restaurant we designated as our meeting spot.

Not sure where to begin, I look from left to right and then left again, fixating on a display of vintage bridal headpieces.
Jackpot!
Some are far too intricate and fancy for the type of dress I’ve chosen, but there are some smaller, dainty pieces that catch my eye. Draping the dress bag over my arm, I rest my elbows on the glass display and survey my choices. Some are very turn-of-the-century/steam punk era inspired. I love them, but they just don’t match my style. Some of them are adorned with feathers and pearls and lots of little beadwork that would be perfect for something a little more formal. When I’m about to give up and settle on braiding my hair and calling it a day, a salesperson comes out from a back door. “I’m sorry, I mustn’t have heard you come in. Can I help you with something?”

She’s an older woman with a kind smile. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these treasures once belonged to her.

“Actually, you might be able to. I’m looking at these beautiful headpieces, but I can’t seem to find one that compliments this.” I hold up the garment bag and the woman’s face brightens with a huge smile.

“A wedding? Oh how wonderful, dear. Can I see the dress?”

She seems so excited for me, how can I dare object. “Of course,” I say as I remove the dress from the bag.

“When’s the wedding?” she says, fingering the lace in her age-spotted hands.

“Tomorrow.”

Her head pops up. “My goodness, tomorrow? And you’re yet to find your accessories. Oh, honey, come on. I’ll help you with everything you need.” She grabs my hand and starts to drag me in the direction of another large display of sparkly items.

“Actually,” I detach my hand from her surprisingly strong grip, “this is a vow renewal, not the actual real deal. So we’re keeping it simple and I’ll only be needing the headpiece. Oh and maybe a small token for my husband.”

She tilts her head to the side, mentally scrutinizing me.
Oh, lady, really? What did I say now?
I mean, she actually looks disappointed. “Not the real deal?” She finally asks in an accusatory tone. “If you’re marrying this man again it most certainly is the real deal, second time around or not. I’d say this is even more special than the first time. It means you’re willing to make those promises to each other time and time again. That’s remarkable in this day and age with all that textering and internet socializing and the such. How long have you been married, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I can’t help but laugh at her adorableness. “Five years this week.”

“I was married to my Harry for nearly fifty-five years when he passed. We renewed on our fiftieth anniversary—it was simple and small, but boy, was it unforgettable.” I watch her eyes glaze over as she remembers her late husband and the remarkable life they must have had together. I’d sit here all evening and talk to her just so she can reminisce like this, but unfortunately I have a wedding to plan for and a gorgeous man waiting for me.

I hook my arm in hers and decide to give in to her wise words. “Well then, since this
is
the real deal and it will be
completely
unforgettable, let’s find the perfect accessories to go with my dress, shall we?”

Sophie gives me a run for my money with her opinions on what’s best, but in the end I have the final say and she seems content that I made the right choice. Along with the rhinestone and bird-cage-veiled hair comb, we pick out a stunning pair of earrings that tie everything together. Sophie messes with the clip in my hair, giving me an idea for how I’ll wear it tomorrow, as I look on in the mirror and hold the dress up against me. It’s all perfect and as I watch it come together, I’m starting to get excited. This will be so different from my jittery wait to walk down the aisle five years ago. I might skip along the sand to meet my husband at our oceanfront altar.

“Okay, so now that we have that covered. I need a special gift. Do you have a music section?” I ask, looking for a wall with album covers or hanging instruments.

Sophie spins me around, and points me to a corner that looks exactly the way I’d seen it in my head. I place my dress and the accessories on the display and she nods her head as if to tell me she won’t let anything happen to them. As I walk to search for treasure, my eyes immediately dart to a beautiful guitar. Declan would love it, but he also loves his Martin and I wouldn’t exactly be able to hide this from him in my purse. So I nix that idea. I peruse the wall that displays album posters, autographed records, a ton of Elvis memorabilia, and then I see it.

It sticks out because a needlepoint plaque has no right hanging amongst rock legends like Jimi Hendrix and Mick Jagger. I walk over to it to see what it is and I nearly squeal in excitement. Okay, I actually do squeal. “Oh my God! No way!”

“What? What is it, dear?” For a little old lady, Sophie’s pretty quick on her Dr. Scholl’s. She’s at my side before I can even remove my hands from my mouth.

“I’ll take that. Please, I must have it.” I’m eager to get it off the wall and into my hands, even though there’s not another soul to be seen in the store. She leans over a box of old records and unhooks the plaque from the wall, blowing the dust off in a big cloud.

I nearly snatch it out of her hands before she has the chance to see what the big deal is about, but then I see the smile on her face.

“Yup! This is it,” I boast. “He is going to freak when I give him this. It’ll go perfect in the studio.” I can’t believe I found this. Who would’ve ever thought to needlepoint the words to the Beatles’
When I’m Sixty Four
and hang it up?

“I’ve always loved the words to that song, dear. Very special.”

“And my husband is a major Beatles’ fan. In fact, we danced to… Wait do you have any old 45s for sale?” Because of his Beatles obsession I had a lesson in their discography. I knew that certain songs were put on 45s as singles with A and B sides. I knew the dates when each album released. I used to roll my eyes with all the trivia, but now, looking back, it made me happy to be so well-taught on something Declan loved.

Sophie shows me to a crate full of dusty records. I finger through them until I stop on
the
exact one I was hoping to find. “Wow! I
cannot
believe this! This place is like the buried treasure of antiques. I have to take Declan back here before we leave Newport.”

“Oh, I would love to meet the lucky man.” Sophie says with another smile. It’s evident where the deep creases around her mouth came from. She’s always smiling.

With the 45 and my needlepoint in my hand and happy butterflies dancing in my belly, I ask my new friend, “I think I have everything I need. Can you ring me up?”

I keep thinking back to how Mia told me she had the jitters on the morning of our wedding, five years ago. Today, I’m jittery as all hell—not because I’m nervous, but because I am one happy son of a bitch.

I’m not too proud to say cheesy shit like: sometimes people
never
find the one true love of their life. I, my friends, get to marry that person… again. And I might just plan on marrying her every five years just to prove a damn point. Our love is solid, strong, can withstand
anything,
and it will last until the day we die.

I make my way down the make-shift aisle of sea shells and tiny flowers to meet the minister. We had the chance to speak on the phone yesterday so that I could tell him a little bit about Mia and myself and give him an idea of what kind of ceremony we were looking for. At our first wedding, we went with the traditional vows, even though I’d opted to write our own. Poor Mia. She was uncomfortable with that because she felt that nothing she wrote could be as poetic as what I would come up with. She did have a point—I’d planned on making them the most unforgettable words I’d ever written, but I wasn’t about to upstage the bride on her wedding day so she won that small battle.