Nick and Quinn’s Wedding Read online

  fro. I suspect Nick would be okay with that too, but his mother

  and mine would not be. “Our families would be very upset if they

  weren’t invited,” I explain.

  “Well, I’ll let you think about it,” the priest says, clasping each

  of our hands in turn. “I’m here if you change your mind. And if

  nothing else, you must come back to baptize the twins.”

  My jaw drops. He is already walking away. “How did you

  know about the twins?” I call after him.

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  E L I Z A B E T H O ’ R O A R K

  He turns back to me with a smile. “Quinn Stewart Bertrand, I

  know more than you can begin to imagine.”

  He walks into his office and closes the door while Nick and I

  stand there, speechless. Nick runs his hands through his hair.

  “He called me Bertrand,” I whisper.

  “And he knew about the twins,” Nick says. “We’ve only told a

  few people. And certainly no one here.”

  I bite my lip. “I know we should be weirded out, but I’m sort

  of…not?”

  “Yeah,” he says, clasping my hand. “Me neither. And that’s

  probably the weirdest thing of all.”

  4

  We spend our last night in Eader out on our deck. We

  order room service and dine under the moonlight,

  watching as the waves crash against the cliffs across

  from us. We swim and lie in the hammock together in a blanket.

  He rolls me on top of him. “We can’t possibly have sex in a

  hammock,” I argue.

  He puts one foot on the floor to brace us. “Watch and learn,

  Mrs. Reilly.”

  Eventually we rouse ourselves just enough to shower and go

  to bed. When I wake in the morning Nick is sound asleep, flat on

  his back, one arm stretched over his head. And completely naked.

  It’s extremely hard not to wake him up, but in an act of supreme

  selflessness I instead climb from the bed and go to our deck,

  leaning against the railing to watch the night sky give way to

  morning, the sun bursting out over the peaks to the east like a

  ripe peach begging to be pulled loose.

  I love my life with Nick back in D.C. but there is something

  about this place—it feels like home in a way nothing else ever

  has. I picture a different kind of life here with Nick, one I spend

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  E L I Z A B E T H O ’ R O A R K

  barefoot and free, one where our daughters tumble out onto a

  wide white beach each morning and run wild.

  Nick comes up behind me, clad only in boxers, and rests his

  hands on my shoulders, pushing my hair aside to press his lips to

  the side of my neck. I lean back against his chest. “Do we have

  to leave?”

  He wraps his arms around me. “Unless you want to give birth

  to the twins on an island which appears to have no medical care,

  I think we do. But I had a thought—how do you feel about

  eloping?”

  I turn to face him and wrap my arms around his neck. “With

  you? The sooner the better.”

  WE WEAR the clothes we brought to go to dinner, before we

  discovered there were no restaurants. Nick is in a white button

  down and suit pants, I’m in a white sundress. I bring the bouquet

  that was left on my seat yesterday. The flowers, which I placed in

  water last night, still look as fresh as they did when I received

  them.

  I emerge from the bathroom in my dress, no make-up but the

  tan I’ve gotten since we arrived and a touch of lip gloss. Nick

  walks toward me slowly, placing his hands on my arms. “You have

  no idea how lucky I feel right now.”

  I have some idea. I go on my toes to kiss him. “I just need to

  put my hair up and we can go.”

  Nick runs a hand through it. “Leave it down. I want you to

  look exactly the way you do at this moment.” He pulls my hands

  to his mouth and kisses both. “This, just as you are right now, is

  who I want to marry.”

  Nick and Quinn’s Wedding

  23

  THE PRIEST DOES NOT SEEM at all surprised to find us at his

  doorstep at 8 AM on a Monday morning, but why would he be?

  He seems to know everything before we do. He throws the

  massive doors of the church wide, securing them with bolts so

  they remain open during the ceremony. It’s odd, but this feels

  right too. The beach and the sea behind us feel, to me, every bit

  as holy as the inside of this church.

  He brings us to the altar. I set the flowers on the pew behind

  me and join hands with Nick. He’s smiling at me in that way of

  his—shy and pleased, unable to keep that dimple of his in check.

  He is so unspeakably beautiful. I swallow down the lump in my

  throat.

  The priest clears his throat and begins. “Will you, Quinn

  Stewart Bertrand, take this man to be your wedded husband?

  Will you love him, comfort him, honor him and keep him, in

  sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both

  shall live?"

  “I will,” I whisper. My voice is slightly hoarse. It’s a struggle

  not to cry.

  “And will you, Nicholas James Reilly, take this woman to be

  your wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor her and

  keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long

  as you both shall live?”

  Nick’s eyes hold mine. “I will.”

  The priest gazes at us both. “By the power vested in me by

  this church, I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Nick’s mouth twitches upward. “Where’s the part where I get

  to kiss the bride?”

  The priest laughs. “She’s your wife now. You are free to do as

  you wish.”

  Nick cradles my face in his hands. “I’m going to make you the

  happiest woman alive, Quinn. I swear it.”

  “You already have,” I whisper. He leans down and when our

  lips meet, there is only him. There is no priest, no roof over our

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  E L I Z A B E T H O ’ R O A R K

  heads, nothing but him and the wide, wild world around us, a

  breeze—fragrant with sea myrtle and sandalwood—drifts around

  us like a blessing.

  Finally I drop back to my feet. The priest waits, marriage

  decree and pen in hand, at the altar. I take the pen and sign, and

  then hand it off to Nick just as something at the back of the

  church catches the light.

  A long blonde braid swaying as a woman exits through the

  wide doors. I know her. I know her in my soul before I even put it

  together, but then she turns and smiles at me over her shoulder.

  Sarah, my mother, younger than she was when I last saw her.

  Two small girls—one blonde, one brunette—are on either side of

  her, grasping her hands. The brunette turns back and gives me a

  big, cheeky smile just before she’s pulled away. I get just enough

  of a glimpse to see that her eyes are an astonishing gray. Rose. Or

  the twin who told us her name was Rose, anyway.

  They are gone before I can even utter a word. And a wiser

  part of me knows that I am not meant to meet them just yet. I

  can’t imagine how t
he twins were able to time travel here at such

  a young age. I can’t imagine how my mother managed to be here

  when I saw her die with my own eyes. But I suspect it means our

  lives are about to get far more bizarre than they’ve already been.

  Nick finishes signing and the priest hands us the certificate.

  “In this marriage, you will be blessed beyond measure, and you

  will produce daughters who will be a blessing to the world.

  Protect them. Protect each other. Go forth,” he says, “and begin

  the life you were meant for.”

  The life we were meant for. A life that will involve time traveling

  twins, a dead mother stopping by for surprise visits.

  “You ready, Mrs. Reilly?” Nick asks.

  I look up at him. At the pleased, sheepish smile, his heart in

  his eyes, and I know that as long as I have him by my side, we can

  handle whatever our lives throw at us.

  “Yes,” I reply, taking his hand. “I’m ready.”

  Nick and Quinn’s Wedding

  25

  The End

  I hope you enjoyed Nick and Quinn’s wedding! I’ll send updates

  about upcoming stories in this universe. Next up: The Moon We

  Share, the story of Quinn’s parents.

  Go to Goodreads to learn more!