The ceremony was brief by Roman Catholic standards, and beautiful. And speaking of beautiful . . .
I would never get tired of looking at Simon Parker in a tuxedo. Especially at the end of an aisle. Not going to lie, it gave me thoughts. Especially when during the ceremony he caught my eye more than once. Sometimes we simply grinned, enjoying the moment with our friends. Sometimes he looked thoughtful, as weddings tend to make everyone think about the future and the past. And once, those sapphire eyes burned into mine, hinting at what he’d rather be doing than standing at an altar. And what he’d rather be doing was me.
In case that was in any way unclear.
As the happy couple made their way down the aisle to applause and well-wishers, Neil followed with his very pregnant girlfriend, Sophia. Then Simon stepped down the few altar steps, slipped my hand into his arm, and walked me down the aisle as well. “Beautiful.”
“It was a beautiful ceremony.”
“Wasn’t talking about the ceremony,” he whispered, his gaze dropping down my body, down past the russet silk, the palest tea-colored shantung, the perfectly dyed peep-toe pumps, and back up again to settle on my cleavage. Amply displayed. Mimi liked a low-cut dress on her ladies in waiting.
“That’s very sweet.”
“Those are very sweet,” he murmured, still gazing at the girls.
“Eyes up here, Mr. Parker,” I instructed, squeezing his forearm. And as I did, I was reminded once more of the innate strength of this man—my man. Long and lean, tall and impossibly good looking with his dark hair and his blue eyes, and his powerful hands holding me steady as he thrust into me from . . . wait. What?
“Where’d you just go?” he asked, his eyes curious.
“Someplace naughty,” I teased, a blush warming my cheeks.
Sweeping a piece of my blond hair back behind my ear, he leaned closer and dropped a kiss on my neck, just below my ear.
“I knew I should have changed your name from Nightie Girl to Naughty Girl.”
“Quiet, Wallbanger; we’ve got a receiving line to get through. Then pictures. Then cocktail hour. Then dinner. Then dancing. We’ll be lucky to have any naughty times before tomorrow.”
“Quickie in the coatroom?”
“Nope, that concept was ruined for me by those two.” I laughed, pointing at Sophia and Neil.
His hand was firmly on Sophia’s bottom, church be damned. Since announcing their pregnancy a few months ago, Sophia had put on about thirty pounds, and they all went to her boobs and her butt. Neil could literally not get enough.
“Doggie style. All day. All night. That’s all he wants. He can’t stop looking at it, touching it, kissing it, rubbing it. It’s like I’m just one giant ass, there for his enjoyment,” Sophia had told Mimi and me one day at lunch, to the immense pleasure of our waiter, who was hovering extremely close that day. My water glass never dipped below two-thirds full.
Simon leaned in once more, just before we got to the end of the pews. “What if I told you I know a place perfectly suited for a quickie, guaranteed no one will find out?” His breath warmed my skin, and some other parts.
“You’re like the devil,” I whispered back, shivering deliciously.
“Caroline. Please. We’re in church,” he chided with a twinkle in his eye. Ungh. Loved this guy.
We had now reached the front steps. And as we all spilled out onto the sidewalk below, we watched Ryan swing his new bride around in a circle, her feet kicked up in the air, arms tight around his neck as she laughed and laughed. The crowd oohed and aahed appropriately, and my friends and I gathered to watch and smile as the first of our crew made it official.
“How long are you going to make Neil wait until he gets to be the one swinging you around like that?” I asked Sophia, who stood in front of her baby daddy.
“Six months, post baby. That should be enough time to get this weight off and make sure I look positively killer in my wedding dress,” she answered, not-so-subtly rubbing her bum back and forth a bit against Neil. Who groaned and started not-so-subtly thrusting against her backside.
“Whoa, whoa! Can’t. Unsee.” I shielded my eyes.
“Can’t help it. Have you seen her ass? Sweetie, turn around and show them your ass,” Neil encouraged, as Simon laughed, clapping him on the back and steering him away from the group.
“I’m gonna take Ass Man here over to congratulate the new Mr. Mimi. You two stay out of trouble,” Simon said with a chuckle. And as they walked away, Sophia and I watched them go.
“Speaking of great asses . . .” Sophia said.
“No kidding. And good lord, is it me, or are they both insanely good-looking in their tuxedos?”
“Sort of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Sophia mused, watching her perfect Ass Man now swing Ryan around in a perfect re-creation.
“Wonder what? When to get married? When we should all make it official? When we all become Mrs. So-and-So?” I asked, my heart leaping into my throat at the idea of becoming Mrs. Parker.
“No.” She shook her head, looking at me with a funny expression. “Wonder if Neil’s wearing boxer shorts under those tight pants. I don’t see a line at all.”
“Ah. Well. That’s something entirely different,” I replied, letting out a little chuckle.
She put her arm around me and squeezed. “Caroline Reynolds, look at you blush.”
“Be quiet.”
“All excited about the prospect of getting married, making Simon your mister?”
“You think because you’re pregnant I won’t stomp on your foot?”
“Come on, let’s go congratulate our friend Shoeless Joe over there,” she said with a smirk, pointing at Mimi, who was surrounded by family and positively beaming.
Ninety minutes later we were drinking champagne under one of the most iconic San Francisco monuments, the Palace of Fine Arts. Mimi had consulted the sun charts, not in an astrological way, but in a perfectly backlit way. So not only was the sun streaming in through the church windows to exactly highlight her skin tone, she had also designed her reception around sunset, capturing that perfect moment when the sun was setting behind the rotunda. And as the lights came on and the candles glowed, the gorgeous old landmark was reflected perfectly in the pond below. Shades of burnished gold from the structure, deep indigo from the water, buttery yellows from the candlelight, and the kaleidoscope of magenta, orange, and fuchsia from the setting sun painted the backdrop of this lovely evening.
It was perfection, as only a professional organizer could ensure. Simon and I mingled with the guests, sipping our bubbly and chatting with strangers, acquaintances, and finally, friends. Up for the wedding after becoming friends with Mimi during her renovation in Mendocino, Viv Franklin was in the house. With her very dashing fiancé, Clark Barrow.
“I can’t believe you’re pregnant again. William isn’t even six months old!” I exclaimed as she told me the news.
“I know, I know! But Clark’s got, like, superman sperm or something. I can’t explain it. I just enjoy it.”
“Vivian!” Clark admonished, his cheeks turning pink as he shook his head at her. “One can share news without sharing everything.”
“One can share anything she likes, when she’s the one with bun in her very pretty oven,” Viv quipped, patting her just-beginning-to show tummy, and effectively shutting down the conversation as Clark now blushed even deeper.