In two months’ time, we would get hitched and our family would be official.
And after I made this wonderful woman mine, I would spin her and dip her and waltz her into our future.
Forever.
Epilogue Two
______________________________
Olin
“QUIT MOVING.” Gil’s fingers latched on my hipbone, his voice strict and chilly like it did when his art stole his concentration.
“Quit tickling me then.”
“Quit making me want to skip the wedding and go straight to the consummate part.”
I swatted his ear, my gaze skimming over to Olive who stood in the bathroom fixing a final flower into her hair. I doubted she’d heard, but still. “Your daughter is right there.”
“Our daughter.” His eyes caught mine and my heart melted just like always. I would always be weak where he was concerned. Always have no future or home unless he was there.
I accepted that.
Embraced that.
I smiled as he dropped his attention and airbrushed crème and ivory over my skin. “I’m marrying both of you.”
“And no divorce shall be given,” he growled threateningly, but it ached with need.
I chuckled, loving all over again how carefree he was. How different he’d become now he actually communicated his hardships and shared his troubles. “You know you’re not supposed to see the bride on her wedding day.”
He bit his lip, angling the airgun to follow the shadows along my leg. “Not many husbands help dress the bride.”
“You’re not my husband.”
His head tipped up, his eyes flashing. “Not yet. But in ten minutes, I will be.”
I bent in half to kiss him, keeping my bouquet of white roses away from the perfection on my skin. All I wore was two pasties, a skin-coloured G-string, and his paint. I was about to walk down an aisle in front of my family, mostly naked, and I couldn’t wait.
Couldn’t wait to show them the talent of my husband-to-be.
After all, our relationship had started this way—our second chance. It was fitting that it would finish this way—marrying us for eternity.
“I love you, Gilbert Clark.”
“And I love you, soon-to-be Mrs Olin Clark.” He pressed a kiss right over my underwear before adding the finishing touches of my untraditional wedding gown. Only once my skin wore ice, alabaster, and snow did Gil put away his brushes, wipe his paint streaked hands on a rag, and slip into his tux jacket.
He frowned as his gaze slid over me, judging his creation, assessing if I was perfect.
“Oh, wow.” Olive’s mouth fell open as she came toward us. “That’s...you look amazing, O.” Her grey eyes, so intelligent and gentle sparked with love.
My own eyes prickled with overwhelming affection. She might not be mine by blood but she was my daughter through and through. “Thanks, lovely.” Things grew hot and melty in my chest again. “I can’t take credit. It’s all this body painter’s work.”
“Helps that the canvas is beautiful to begin with,” Gil muttered, adding a last-minute flourish.
More tears built.
Olive shook her finger at me. “Don’t you start crying, O. You’ll ruin Dad’s art.” She giggled. “And you know how much trouble you’ll be in.”
“He’d probably divorce me.” I chuckled, sniffing back liquid that wasn’t allowed to fall.
“He has to marry you first.” Olive snickered.
“I married her the moment she made me pancakes when I was a teenager,” Gil said. “She just didn’t know it.”
I wanted to laugh but kept my face composed so I didn’t ruin the rhinestones Gil had embellished my eyebrows with.
Today was already perfect, and we’d only just dressed.
“So...are you done?” Olive asked her dad, moving forward to help close up the paint and box the bottles where they belonged. “Justin text me before. He said they’re almost ready.”
“Yeah, I’m done.” Gil raked a hand through his hair, leaving behind a streak of white in his otherwise dark unruly mess. I didn’t tell him. I liked the roguish imperfection.
“I’ll go and see if he needs any help,” Olive said, blowing me an air kiss. “Don’t be too long! It’s not raining but we don’t want to push it.”
Gil chuckled, his face soft and full of affection as Olive smoothed down her pretty grey bridesmaid dress and slipped from the guest apartment.
I had no doubt in five minutes, Olive would have everyone sat in the white wooden chairs, the music would be playing, and our small neighbourhood would be ready to witness our nuptials.
Together, we would walk through the studio to the manicured garden at the back. To the pond twinkling in the sunshine and over grass that looked like perfect green carpet. We would become betrothed beneath a small alter made from twisted old branches and flowers.
Justin would stand beside Gil as best man and Olive would stand beside me, and tonight, I hoped Justin might pop the question to his year-long girlfriend, Monique. A year wasn’t a very long time, but when you met the right one, you only needed a day.
One day to understand that you could like others, love others, even marry others, but unless that person was approved by fate and your perfect other half, then it wasn’t entirely your destiny.
Gil was my destiny.
Even though I’d tried to fight it.
Even though he’d tried to kill it and I’d walked away from it...the undeniability of us had won.
Gil moved toward me, keeping his hands to himself with a groan. “I’d give anything to smudge you. To grab and kiss you.”
I blushed. “You can kiss me but you can’t touch.”
He groaned again. “I can’t kiss you. I painted your lips too. If I do, they’ll smear.”
“Guess you’re going to have to wait until the official kiss then.”
“You’re determined to kill me.”
I smiled. “Determined to marry you.” Spreading my arms, I added, “Thank you, Gil. For giving me such a wonderful gown.”
Leaning in, he pressed his lips to my ear. “I’m far from done with you, O. I have another artwork in mind for the honeymoon.”
I shivered in anticipation. Kissing his cheek, I pushed him away so I didn’t leap into his arms. “Shoo. It’s time for me to finish getting ready. You can’t see this next part. It’s a surprise.”
Olive and I had put it together.
I wore Gil’s paint, but I needed something that moved with me. Something that would dance around my legs and arms. Together, we’d sourced panels of sheer lace and organza, designing a dress that hung like a kimono, open down my chest and tied at the waist with a simple silver sash with the sides split, revealing my lace-painted legs and body paint.
The fabric would frame the masterpiece Gil had done.
He chuckled as Olive darted back into the room. “Everyone’s ready. You guys coming?”
Gil brushed past her, giving her a quick kiss on her hair. “You’re gorgeous, little spinach. A perfect wedding planner.”
She blushed. “The wedding won’t work if the bride and groom are late.”