Hey guys, GiLaw here, with Chapter 2 for The Back story. Hope you like it, it's a big moment for our two lovebirds so let's go!

Chapter 2

The Wedding

Saturday, April 23rd, 2016

5:24 PM

Oh God. After one huge stressful month of dealing with parents and getting everything sorted, dresses and registrations and just nothing but chaos really, I am about to have the best day of my life.

Standing outside the huge church doors, I all I could feel were fireworks inside me that that didn't know if they wanted to go off or just die out altogether. I glanced at my phone and tried to ignore the lurching feeling in my stomach. My dress didn't help that sickly feeling. It was a beautiful dress and all, but only now did it feel a bit on the tight side. It was a mostly white silk but there was a lace embroidery leaf design mostly around the shoulders, chest and veil. The leaves and flowers looked like something I would sew at home, but much more professional. I wondered how the seamstress (or semester) could have left the stems and leaves so perfectly flowing but at the same time so stiffly fixed into place. I imagined a bony faced seamstress with white blonde hair scraped back into a tight bun sewing them on while I was wearing the thing. She did it with such care and precision, but every time the needle went through, I felt a sharp jab through my skin and when she pulled the needle back out again, it tightened the dress on me, pulling out the white thread, pulling and tightening until it squeezed around my stomach and I couldn't breathe.

I sneaked another glance at my phone when my parents weren't looking. Mike hadn't replied to my last message. I so badly wanted to see him . . . and I kind of wanted him to see me and tell me if I looked okay. The last thing I wanted more than anything was to come out of those massive church doors looking awful in front of him. But at the same time, I knew it was a thing, some urban legend that if I was to see him before this big wedding, it would just bring bad luck for both of us and that was something that neither of us could do with at the moment.

I felt like sending him another text, and for once I didn't care what my mother said. I could sense her staring at me, but I pretended to ignore her as my fingers tapped away at those little keys. For some reason they were shaking like a real leaf now. It took me longer than I would have liked to send him one little message:

"Are your parents being nice to you?"

"Zoey-"

"Yeah. Sorry." I lowered down my phone but then raised it again. 5:26. Just under five minutes to go. Every minute felt like it was dragging along until it felt like an hour.

My mother was a small dainty woman and the rare times I had gotten to go shopping with her, people had always pointed out they could see the resemblance. She had the light blonde hair (My hair used be blonde too before I dyed it), the brown eyes, the clear white skin and the fragile looking face, though I still felt like mine looked more delicate and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She actually looked comfortable in her navy blue silk dress that flowed a few inches past her knees and silver pumps with just enough bracelets and a silver swan chain to avoid looking too fussy. She looked dressed up but she looked relaxed about it too . . . but then again she had gone through a moment like this once before. My dad next to her also looked comfortable and well groomed, freshly shaved and neatly combed brown hair (though there wasn't much for him to comb) . . . He was wearing a crisp black suit, something I wasn't used to. I mean he was one for dressing up, but not in the suits, so it was weird to see him right in front of me with the black suit, the clean white shirt, the neat little bow tie that was so perfectly fastened . . . It was something he only did for special occasions. Really special occasions.

My phone buzzed in my hand again and I couldn't resist seeing how Mike had replied to me. What did he say? Were his parents treating him well? Marc especially after that almost disastrous first meeting, I really needed to know-

"Yeah they're fine. Don't worry."

The F word. That one word that was enough to convince me that he wasn't alright and make me worry about him even more. How could I know if he was alright when he was on the other side of those doors with so many other people there? Well there weren't that many people, all of them were just friends of our parents since Mike and I never really had many friends but at the same time, they were probably all strangers to both of us. I badly wanted to send him another text but my fingers had gone past simply shaking to that stage where they were dancing around wherever they felt like, avoiding the letters completely. I tried to get them to tap down so I could send some form of a reply, but it was like there was an invisible force field on my phone and my fingers just wouldn't touch it. And then my phone buzzed again:

"I have a surprise for you after this."

A surprise? What surprise? What was he planning? I didn't know. I really didn't want to put the phone away but at the same time I had to. I slowly raised it towards my mother but then pulled it back quickly to check the time. 5:28. Two more minutes. Should I turn it off? I wasn't like it was going to go off at any given moment and play a hate song or a song about crashing weddings . . . Okay, I'll turn it off. I really didn't want to . . . But I just had to do it. I had to really push against that one button on the side, harder than usual before it eventually asked me if I wanted it off or not.

Did I want it off?

What if he texted me again?

He probably wouldn't if I didn't reply.

But then again, it might make him nervous if I didn't send him any form of response.

What if he texted me but something got held up and my phone went off during the ceremony?

I tapped the "off" button before I could overthink it any further and handed it over to my mother who nodded and took it with a small "thank you." As she picked it off my hand, I suddenly realized how heavy it had felt, that it was actually forcing my hand and arm down and a whoosh of relief shot through it once it no longer had to cling onto it. It didn't feel like I was handing my mother a simple piece of black metal. It felt like I was handing her a piece of me so she could lock it up safely in her new cream leather handbag.

She patted it down, very gently, then looked up at me with a strange kind of look. I wanted to say she was examining me, but it didn't feel like she was doing it in a bad way. Her face was trying to look neutral but the emotions were all forcing their way through . . . I could see the mouth trembling and the eyes shimmering. I felt like I was a rare precious statue in a fancy museum and I was being memorised because a photograph would do no justice whatsoever. And then she sighed and suddenly thrust her arms around me, carefully so she wouldn't ruin my dress but so tight, it knocked the air out of me again and I almost spluttered. I was used to her hugging me, she was my mother after all, but not this . . . passionate. I had to return the hug and not just because it was the polite thing to do.

"I'm so proud of you." Her voice croaked. That crack alone was enough to make me squeeze her tighter. I suddenly realized that she was seeing this only once in her life and that's why she was holding onto me so tight. I was her only child. Once she let go, I was gone.

I wanted to slowly pull her away but at the same time, my arms seemed to have glued themselves around her. She had to take my shoulders and force us away, but I still felt like there was some sort of magnetic force trying to stick us together. I had to grab onto my dad's arm to avoid clinging back onto her again. He happily worked his arm around mine, linking them tightly together.

"Right." My mother sniffed back the emotion she was trying to hide before reaching out and handing me the bouquet of flowers from the nearby table. It was a pretty little bouquet, mostly white and pink flowers but once again, they felt unnaturally heavy. The light petals drooped down like stones, almost pulling my arms down with me.

"You know what you have to do. Just wait for him to ask you and all you have to do is . . . say the words." She nodded at me before backing towards the two doors behind her. She wouldn't turn around. She had to feel behind her for the handle. My dad went to open the door for her when she finally found her way and realized that she actually had to turn around if she was going to get out. As she heaved open the door open, I shifted to my left, trying to sneak a glance inside. I could see some people, but I didn't recognise any of them. I couldn't see Mike. Where was he? I wanted to shuffle over to get a better angle, but my arm was locked around my dad's and I couldn't move. My mother may have noticed the way I was trying to look in . . . she deliberately opened the door just wide enough so she could squeeze through and then shut the door. She closed it as gently as she could but a loud hollow banging sound still rang around the room and into my ears, a sound crept into my ears and sent a chill down my arms.

How much longer until I had to step out? I wanted to climb up my dad's shoulders and curl up to him like a toddler, but the stiff dress and heavy flowers prevented me from doing so. Instead, I sighed and rested my head on his arm, only to remember that I still had to keep my hair in place. The stylist had done it almost as well as my seamstress, tugging the little red strands to clip them exactly into place. I could feel the strain between the silver hair clip that kept it in place and my own scalp. I wondered if a certain amount of stretching could cause the hair to snap like those delicate chains you saw in thriller movies, chains that should have been strong but had to break so that everything went wrong.

It couldn't be much longer now. Any second now, those massive doors would open and all eyes would be on me. The church wasn't even that big and I still felt tiny in it. Actually, it was mainly the doors that made me feel so small, the walls around me seemed to be closing in on me, and I was shrinking with them until I found myself gasping for air again. It was just those doors, looming over me, like some towering disapproving giant who wanted to crush me.

Why was it I felt so nervous? I was about to marry the man of my dreams, wasn't I? Was it normal for brides to feel this nervous? I considered asking my dad next to me, but what if he ended up giving me some weird lecture or inspirational speech and then the doors opened and we didn't look ready? Those doors HAD to open any second now. I moaned a little and squeezed my dad's arm, to which he responded giving my arm a little shake, the type that warmed you up instead of sending shivers up your arm and through your body.

I looked up at him and went to smile but the doors suddenly rattled and opened up and my body wanted to jump but the stiff dress prevented me from doing so. Everyone in the church had stood up, everyone now looking at me. There had to be at least forty people in there and every one of them had their eyes on me. Not on my dad. Me.

I felt him tug on my arm a little and I realized that it was time for me to walk. Under my white hems, my silver heeled sandals seemed to have drilled themselves to the ground and I had to tug at them to get my feet moving. And even then, my feet seemed to have turned into concrete. I had to really heave at them to get them moving. As my dad and I began to make our way down the red carpet aisle with its white and pink flower petals, I tried to keep my head up and my eyes away from all the strangers around me. I didn't recognize any of them. I wished I could have at least invited some old friends from Total Drama, especially Cameron, but unfortunately his mother was so overprotective, she forbid him from using any form of technology or social media or sending any letters. I hadn't heard from him since we went our separate ways after our final season together and boy did I miss him. At least I knew he had his own set of million dollars to spend for his every need.

Halfway down the aisle. It was definitely longer than I first interpreted. Or were we just walking really slowly? It gave me an opportunity to take in my surroundings. There were a few men, all in suits that were practically the same, black cotton and spotless white shirts, maybe a different bowtie here and there. The women were a completely different story altogether, all dressed up, like a collection of dolls, with plastic eyes really examining my dress. Based on how much fake tan they were wearing, how their faces were painted, how their hair was styled, their posture more stiff than mine, their clothes definitely expensive, all designer evening dresses with floral hats and perfect shoes . . . I could tell that they were all friends of Anne, at least the ones who were more dressed up than I was- and they did not look happy to be here. They looked happy to be standing amongst each other, just not in this building.

The church itself like any other church, arched ceilings, a crystal chandelier, multicoloured glass windows . . . Pictures of stories of Jesus that were so well painted, it gave me the impression he was looking down on me . . . It was only now I realized, I was never particularly into Catholicism or any real religion really, but it was all I really knew. My parents had occasionally taken me, just for special events, Easter, Christmas, it was the noble thing to do. We could have easily organised a private wedding but at the same time we both knew that it would just be unfair on our parents, whether they had been good to us or not.

Us . . . I finally looked forwards . . . And there he was. Mike. My future husband. He looked just as handsome as ever, with those deep brown eyes, the glowing real tan, his dark hair that was spiky as ever but still looked so soft. His suit made him look even smarter. It was very similar to all the other men in the room but there was something about it that looked neater. Maybe it was the white silk tie, maybe it was the white rose in his jacket pocket, but he was just so much better looking than all the other men. As soon as my eyes fell on him, I felt all my nerves almost melt away. The bouquet in my hand suddenly felt like nothing, like I might as well have been carrying a bag of air.

He held out his hand for me to take so I could stand up by his side and only then did I realize that my dad had left me to sit with my mother. I flicked a glance behind me and sure enough, there they were, sitting together, looking up at me. My mother smiled and my dad gave me a reassuring little nod.

Our priest was an elderly little man with a scrawny face and sunken eyes. He had stringy grey hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in about a week. He wore white and gold garments, just like a priest would for any wedding ceremony, though they did look a bit big and crumpled for him. He gave me his own smile, not the nicest of smiles but one I was still willing to take. I smiled back and rubbed my arm against Mike next to me. I wanted to cuddle up to him, rest my head on his shoulders, squeeze tightly onto his hand, not just simply hold it but the idea of the people behind us, all staring, the women still examining me reminded me that I would just have to wait until afterwards.

"We are gathered here today," our priest began and Mike and I turned to face one another. As we did so, I suddenly wondered where his parents were. They definitely weren't with mine anyway. I swiveled my eyes around, seeing nothing but strange made up faces until I finally spotted them in the front row, on the edge of the seat. Anne was all done up, just like the other women, but more so, in an overly elegant long dark purple dress with silver beading, a white lace jacket and her hair tied into a curly side bun. Marc was in a black suit, just like the other men, but unlike those men, his was a bit on the crumpled side. His shirt definitely wasn't as well kept or blindingly white as the other men. He didn't even have a bow tie on. He had a tie on, but it was a bleak black one that looked more suitable for a funeral than a wedding. But . . . at least he had bothered to dress up and not that scruffy outfit from last time so that was something, right? Wait, was he looking at me now? Yeah, he had sealed the eye contact with me, raised eyebrows, giving me a weird look, that seemed to be more than admiring the dress I had on. There just was something really uncomfortable about that look he was giving me . . .

Whatever. It didn't matter. He wasn't important right now. All that mattered right now was the man in front of me. Mike.

I looked up at him, trying not to smirk and suddenly realized that he was also gazing at me, up and down. His eyes swiveled up and down, taking in the rigid embroidery design, the soft fallen skirts, the way my hair was scraped back so neatly into place. His eyelids raised slightly. I noticed a hint of colour coming to his cheeks. I felt the the flushing hot feeling coming to my own face and glanced down at my feet, when I felt him squeeze my hand that was enough to make me look up at him again. He squeezed my hand a little tighter and his face shifted into a loving, genuine smile, one that spoke out everything he had to say. My face melted into a beam, and slowly, one by one, all my other senses melted with it. The longer I kept my eyes on him, the less important my surroundings became. The posh snobby women wavered and disappeared into nothing. My ears closed to the priest's droning voice on my left, only opening every now and then to pick up words such as "love", "cherish" and "protect." Things that we had to do but had been doing for a long time now.

My mind drifted out of the room, out of this little church, out of Canada and out onto sea, on that boat where I had first met him. I so badly wanted to nudge him and ask him if he could believe we were finally doing this, just so he could reply how beautiful it was. It was almost funny, how I had simply entered this gameshow I liked just to make more friends and win more money . . . and I had the money, but I had it with the most amazing man I could have ever asked for. Our relationship had definitely had its ups and downs, but the downs were like little baby steps that didn't feel that big anymore. I felt him stroking my hand with his thumb and it brought me back to all those moments he saved me, from the totem pole, to that cliff, to the spider, to that tree in the swamp . . . He was my lifesaver, the spark in my life, but at the same time, I knew that he needed me just as much. He had told me so many times . . . I was the reason he had overcome his Multiple Personality Disorder. I was the one who had given him the confidence he so badly needed to overcome his alternate personalities, even the more evil persistent ones. I could never quite believe it, but he had always insisted. Simply being my nice self had saved him from being taken over . . . It made me feel . . . special a funny, warm kind of special, like I had done something important for once in my life and nothing else I would do could ever match that.

Our priest was still droning on from the large book that his wrinkled hand was struggling to keep raised. I don't think he had looked up from that book since he had started reading from it. I sneaked a glance at him then back to Mike again who sighed a little but was still had a small little smile on his face. I wondered if he had the same thing in mind. He was eyeing the priest too as he went on about the responsibilities of marriage that we probably both already had in mind. It definitely didn't feel like he was there to encourage any real love or commitment, (things we already had for each other) but giving us a bit of a lecture.

I tore my eyes away from the priest and looked up at my future husband who noticed and fixed the eye contact with me. Again I felt the warmth coming to my cheeks and the corners of my mouth rising with it. Every time I looked at that face, I could just feel the fireworks going off, though this time I had to restrain them from exploding inside of me. The tension, the exciting sense of anticipation was enough to get my hands shaking.

"Hi," I mouthed at him for some stupid reason and I immediately tightened my lips at the thought of it. Why did I do that? We weren't supposed to talk during a ceremony, were we?

"Hi," Mike mouthed back at me, and straight away, those stupid questions in my head faded away into nothing. He looked down for a second and I felt my face drop a little, wondering what was he thinking. But he quickly looked back up at me, then mouthed something else, so quietly, I had to lean forwards to try and catch it, squinting my eyes to let him know I had missed it. And then he repeated his sentence:

"You look beautiful."

He gave me another affectionate smile and I had to bite my lip to keep the fireworks in. I always had that feeling that he was going to say that, it was Mike after all, and he always thought I looked beautiful (for some reason), but something about it just seemed to trigger the first few little sparks inside of me. I wanted to just squeal and thrust my arms around him and kiss him right there and right now but we still had quite a while to wait. I flicked a glance at the priest, but my eyes steered themselves back towards Mike again. He was eyeing the priest too, still droning on with little to no interest, and his smile shifted into a joking little smirk as he looked at me again.

"This is boring!" he mouthed, though this time I picked up a faint little whisper. A giggle went to escape me and I knew that if I shut it off, it would come out as a snort, so I had to tighten my own throat (if that was even possible) just to let out quietly enough.

"Yeah!" I raised and dropped my shoulders in agreement.

Mike's smirk grew a little wider and he pursed his lips shut, enough to tell me that he was struggling to keep in his own laughter. He gave my arm a little shake and a little nod to go with it.

"Soon."

"Yeah."

As I relaxed, feeling a little more patient, I rolled my eyes around the church again, wondering why we didn't take the good part of our million dollars and spend it on a big fancy beach wedding with flower arches and real petals and white chairs and a blue pool with sunny skies and white doves . . . Okay, thinking about it now made it sound a bit showy. I guess that's why neither of us really went for something so . . . over the top. Suddenly the fairy tale images didn't feel necessary anymore. We could have had everything white and beautiful and perfect . . . and none of it would have mattered if it hadn't been with the right person. We had the money alright . . . but we had each other which was even better.

"The bride and groom will now exchange vows."

Oh God, this was it. I stiffened and looked up at my future husband and the fireworks in me stopped sparking and started smoking, slowly bulging as they tried to hold in the colour and the emotion. I worked my fingers around Mike's hand so I could give it a tight little squeeze, though he was clutching on even tighter. I saw the colour rush to my fingertips from the pressure, but I felt nothing. Nothing but excitement.

"Mike," the priest began, finally looking up from his book with raised eyebrows. For the first time this ceremony, he actually looked interested. "Do you take Zoey to be your beloved wedded wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her, to protect her, to honor her for all your life?"

Mike was gazing deep into my eyes, trying even harder than me to hide his excitement. His eyes were shimmering, his body was trembling. I suddenly felt a pinch on my hand where he was holding me so tight.

"I do."

I heard a scratch in his voice, something deep, something I had never really heard before. I could only recall hearing him use that tone once before, and that was back to when we had first met on that boat. When I had first spoke to him, and he had replied in that awe-filled loving tone.

"It's . . . beautiful . . ."

Those fireworks in me had stopped sparking and were now smoking. I could actually feel them bulging inside of me from all the pressure, ready to explode. All I had to do was say those two words. Two words and we had done it. I bit my lip again, waiting for the priest next to me to ask those questions.

"Zoey."

I opened my mouth, about to say it but realized that he hadn't even asked the vows yet. I heard myself gasp and heard the audience watching us murmur. Oh God, they heard it. I quickly swallowed back my feelings of anticipation and exhaled a slow steady sigh.

"Do you take Mike to be your beloved wedded husband . . . Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad . . . in sickness and in health . . . to love him . . . to protect him . . . to honor him for all your life?"

"I do." I almost interrupted him, I couldn't hold the words in any longer. My voice almost croaked with it all. I felt the heat rushing from my face through the veins in my arms down to my fingertips which looked that little bit more red now. Most of my senses seemed to have stopped completely, oblivious to the priest snapping his book shut, the sound of murmuring amongst the audience that my brain had completely erased from sight altogether. The fireworks were about to go off . . . I had to pant at a certain rhythm to keep them under control but inhale through my nose so it wasn't obvious.

"The bride and groom have given their consent . . ." The priest stood back and gave Mike a little nod before finally saying the words we had been waiting for such a long time now.

"You may now kiss the bride."

This was it. The moment we had both been waiting for. I beamed at Mike and went to lean in, but he was quicker, raising my hands and almost yanking me in. I gasped and just managed to take in enough air before he pressed his lips against mine.

And the fireworks went off.

I shut my eyes and let the fireworks release all the emotion for me to put into that one kiss. My ears picked up on the audience "ooing" . . . but slowly one by one, they started clapping. I sneaked my eyes open for a brief second, enough for me to see that my mother had started the applause and now everyone was joining in.

They were clapping for us. And they were cheering. I may not have known any of them but I didn't care as long as they were cheering. I shut my eyes again, tighter this time and grabbed Mike's face in my hands, even though one was still somehow clutching onto that little bouquet of flowers that felt like nothing, pushing his lips harder against mine. I wanted to stay like this forever, only breaking away to take a brief breath of air but never truly separating.

He separated suddenly and I opened my eyes just as he bent down and scooped me up in his arms, white lace dress and all. I squealed and threw my arms around him, clinging on for dear life, but let him sweep me off my feet anyway, laughing like a child. I always had to remind myself how strong he was, that underneath that fancy tuxedo and rose and white bow tie, there was a fit skinny body with a beautiful eight pack.

I squealed again, but much quieter and rested my head on his shoulder as he carried me down that red carpet aisle. I realized that though it wasn't anything spectacular, it was still a red carpet with scattered flower petals, specially for the two of us. Somewhere behind me, I could have sworn I heard Marc whooping inappropriately but my mind urged me to ignore it. Like Mike had said to me before, he wasn't important. None of the people, not even the overdressed, overly glamorous women were important.

The doors ahead seemed much smaller now, and they seemed to open by themselves for us, making it feel that little bit more magical. I suddenly realized that I had a mad little grin on my face and it was stuck there, but I was not going to allow it to leave. As Mike stepped out the doors, somehow managing to carry me down those small white marble steps, I clutched onto him a little tighter. I didn't know why, they were just steps. But again the overwhelming sense of happiness seemed to have washed out all real common sense. My eyes fell on the sleek black limo ahead of us and I felt that grin on my face again.

Behind us, most of the audience had stepped out, still clapping with neutral faces, except for my parents who beamed back at me. My dad laughed and my mother waved at me. I noticed her sniff back but stay composed as always.

I waved back and gave her a thumbs up just as Mike stopped at the limo so he could put me down. I slid free from his arms, managing to land neatly on my feet without bending my ankles in my heeled sandals, but even if I had landed awkwardly, he was still leaning over, ready to catch me, making me giggle. Even something as simple as getting to my feet, he was so ridiculously protective of me, it was just adorable. He even had to open the door for me, watching intently as I gathered up my skirts and climbed in. The crowd at the top of the stairs were still clapping and cheering, some of them even whistling for us. My parents were up front of course, they had fought to get up there first. I could see Anne somewhere in the back of the crowd, near the door. I squinted my eyes looking for Marc when the door closed on me, making me jump.

I inhaled deeply through my nose, catching a scent of fresh pine needle air freshener and glanced to my right hand side, waiting patiently for the door to open. My veil was digging into the back of my head, making it irritable and scratchy, a feeling that was kicking in just now but a relief at the same time, knowing I could take it off, just as the door opened and Mike sat himself inside.

For some reason I whipped my head away as the limo engine started to rumble and slowly drive off. The crowd was cheering louder but getting quieter as it began to pull away, slowly edging out of sight. I leaned forwards in my clean black leather seat, keeping my eyes on my parents as they grew smaller and smaller, until they disappeared and my head wouldn't turn anymore to see them. I had no idea why I was watching them as closely as I was- it definitely wasn't going to be the last time I would ever see them, in fact, I knew that I would be seeing them for dinner in just a few minutes. But looking back, I imagined a younger, more helpless little me, still blonde and naive stuck with them, not wanting to leave . . .

"You okay?"

I shook a little but giggled of the thought of myself getting startled by Mike asking me a simple question like that. I sighed and took his hand, trying to think of the right words to say as I gazed into his eyes again. Those eyes, those deep brown eyes that I couldn't get enough of. How could I tell him how I felt? We were married! We were truly together! The best day of our lives!

The only thing I could think of to express such happiness was to take him by the head again and pull him in for another kiss, moaning loudly as I did so. It was a quick one, only a few seconds, but it said everything I needed to say.

"We did it!" I clawed my hands and let out the quietest scream my feelings would allow me- and they wouldn't allow that quiet a scream.

"I'm so happy!" I wanted to laugh my head off and bawl my eyes out at the same time. How else could I express myself? If I wasn't in a limo in a dress and in heels, I would probably be sprinting down the road screaming blue murder by now.

Mike beamed and pulled me into his arms again and as always I allowed him to do so. I groaned happily and wrapped my arm around his shoulder so I could pull myself even closer to him. I noticed the driver eyeing us through his mirror with a raised eyebrow but I just shut my eyes, blocking him out completely as Mike stroked my arm up and down.

"Wanna see the surprise?"

The surprise! Yes! The surprise! Immediately I opened my eyes and sat back up, which he took as a yes. He dug his hand into his black suit jacket and pulled out his phone. I narrowed my eyes a little but I was still grinning a little as he turned it on, keeping it at an angle so I couldn't see.

"Where is it . . . There we go." He smiled and handed me his phone so I could look for myself.

It was a picture of a tropical beach, a Caribbean one I assumed, with pure white sand and crystal blue water, so clear, you could see the ripples and shine, emphasised by the shining bright sun and cloudless skies that were just as clear blue as the sea, but a much richer colour. Lush palm trees stretched out in the distance, all green and beautiful. I lowered my eyebrows a little when Mike reached out and pointed at the screen.

"Scroll across."

I placed my finger on the screen and swiped along to reveal a wooden platform leading over the crystal sea to a orange-brown wooden hut with a straw roof and a long vertical wall on the sides blooming with pink Hibiscus flowers.

"Okay . . ." I felt my eyelids widen a little as I lowered the phone and looked up at my husband who was grinning to himself. I felt like I knew what he had in mind but for some reason I just couldn't ask him. Were we really . . . ?

He looked up at me, still grinning, a little wider now. His body had tensed up, but I could tell that it was with excitement. He sealed that all important eye contact with me again, as if he was trying to read my mind. A wide grin spread across his lips. And then he answered.

"We're going in two weeks."

That sentence alone was enough to shut off my senses altogether. My body seemed to freeze itself completely solid. Mike's phone drooped in my hand, almost slipping out my fingers. I could tell I had that stupid shocked look on my face with the widened eyes looking blankly into his face I guess with the mouth hanging open.

We were going to that beautiful Caribbean island with the amazing hut . . . together.

The two of us and no one else were going to that island . . .

"MIKE!" I screamed and practically leapt on top of him, almost knocking him over, but he somehow managed to stay sitting up, laughing as he did so. "You did not!"

"Yeah I did!" he chuckled, pressing his lips on my forehead for a quick peck as we squeezed each other as tight as we possibly could, which wasn't easy as we were both shaking with delight. "You excited?"

I responded by giving him another passionate kiss on the lips, one that we both saw coming this time and made us immediately forget how obvious a question that had been.

"I can't wait."

A beautiful wedding and now this Caribbean holiday to spend with the most wonderful husband . . . What else could a girl ask for? Our wedding definitely hadn't been exactly what we had wanted, but it had still been so lovely. And now we had this holiday- no a honeymoon to look forward to.

The perfect honeymoon, just myself and my new husband.

No one else. Perfect.

And there you go, there's Chapter 2. Sorry if this one dragged on a bit, it's so hard to make a wedding chapter interesting, especially when you don't even know how exactly they work but I just wanted to get some more details in there, Zoey's feelings, characters of her parents, all that good stuff.

Yes, Honeymoon Lemon does take place after this so if you haven't read that yet, you might want to. Even if you don't like lemon fics, at least take a quick look at it to get a good idea of where they're staying, because the fic itself does play a part in this.

I promise the story will get more interesting after this.

Anyway, I'll see you guys soon :)