The minister smiled and glanced from Sara to Greg, then back again.
Gilbert Grissom sat in the back of the church, Sophia Curtis by his side. If Greg had noticed Grissom's presence (he hadn't) he would have felt waves of hatred washing over his from his jealous mentor's narrowed eyes. Sophia did notice, and she pried open one clenched fist and took his hand. "If you love someone, their happiness is your first objective," she whispered to him.
"That's the point," he hissed back. "That's the point."
The minister cleared his throat and began. "We are gathered today to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, to honor the love between this man and this woman, to add our support and best wishes to the words that will unite Greg Sanders and Sara Sidle. Should there be anyone who has cause to object to this union, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."
Sophia pinched Grissom's hand; he had been about to rise. "I have a gun," she whispered in an ominous hiss. "Sit down and do not even THINK of screwing this up."
Grissom shot her a withering glance but obeyed.
"Good boy," she whispered softly. "You'll get your reward later."
Doc had silently brought Sara up and seated himself. The minister began again.
"Greg and Sara, marriage is one of the most challenging and rewarding relationships we humans can share. Within its boundaries dwell love, respect, tenderness, and commitment, and from its union the two shall find that together they equal so much more than their combined abilities taken separately." The minister's attention fell to Greg. "Greg, do you take this woman Sara to be your wife?"
"I do."
"For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, for all of the days of your life do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her?"
"I do."
"Sara, do you take this man Greg to be your husband?"
"I do."
"For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, for all of the days of your life do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only unto him?"
"I do."
"Then I hereby pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
Sara's heart was pounding. She looked down at the fourth finger of her left hand and swallowed hard. The wedding and reception were over. She was now Mrs. Greg Sanders, and she was waiting for Greg to join her in the back of the limo Catherine had chartered to drive them to the Tropicana, where she had gotten them the posh honeymoon suite. Sara swallowed hard at the thought of what that meant. She couldn't have been more nervous if she'd been an Amish virgin. Up to this point she and Greg hadn't gone any further than a few fairly chaste kisses. Yes, she had experienced her share of debauchery over the years, but never with him. This was different. This was her wedding night, her first time with the man she had pledged to spend the rest of her life with. First times were always awkward, and above all she didn't want him to be disappointed.
The limo door opened and he slid in next to her. He smiled shyly and took her left hand in his. "We match," he whispered huskily.
She looked at their joined hands, at the shiny new gold bands. "We do," she answered softly and smiled at him. "Like a set of bookends."
Greg stroked his thumb across her palm. "I still can't believe it." He cupped her chin with his other hand, letting the tip of his thumb stroke across her lips. "My wife."
She returned the gesture, touching her thumb to his parted lips. "My husband," she whispered, then gasped when his tongue slipped out to taste the tender pad. Suddenly she wasn't feeling quite so Amish or virginal any more.
"Wow! This is nice!" Greg looked around the sleek hotel room. "This room is bigger than both our apartments put together!"
"It is nice. And we don't even have to process it."
"Nope. No dead bodies, or DNA, or trace evidence."
"I certainly hope not. Not so sure on the DNA part, though." She grabbed her bag. "I'm going to check out the bathroom, freshen up, get changed."
Greg grinned. "You do that. I'll be out here changing and trying not to dust for prints."
She turned and checked her reflection in the bathroom mirror for the twentieth time. The nightgown was a gift from Mia, who had overnighted it from Chicago the day after Sara had called her and told her the news. "He'll like this," Mia had penned in the card, "even though it is classy." And classy it was. It was made of red-purple silk edged in lace, and its elegant lines enticed while leaving quite a bit to the imagination. Sara ran her hand over it. Mia had picked very well. It was perfect.
Greg was sitting awkwardly on the bed when she finally came out. "Wow," he whispered. "You look. Wow."
Sara sat next to him, her hips close but not quite touching his. "This was from Mia."
He delicately stroked over her side with one hand. "Silk," he whispered hoarsely, and he looked at her with his heart in his eyes. "I love you so much. Please let me touch you."
Her lips parted. "Oh, yes..." She moaned as gentle hands glided over all of her, baring her as they caressed and stroked and ardent lips kissed her everywhere. When her breathing had turned to whimpers and gasps he was over her, in her, sweet words of love flowing over her as he rocked her into tender oblivion. In the aftermath they clung together until sleep took them.
"Breakfast in bed, Greg? You're going to get me spoiled here." Sara grinned as she took the tray from him. Eggs, fruit, toast, coffee, with a beautiful red rose to the side.
Greg grinned. "I told you I would be good to you. I'm a man of my word." He sat on the bed next to her. "Your hair is as wild as mine this morning."
"Yeah. I seem to remember you had quite a bit to do with it getting this way."
He smiled shyly. "Yeah. Last night was amazing."
"For me too. " She shook her head. "This all seems a little surreal. It's great, but I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that we're really actually married."
His voice was cautious. "Good surreal or bad surreal?"
She laughed. "Good surreal, silly! I'm happy, but this is so much more than I ever allowed myself to hope for. I'm 35, Greg. I was resigned to the likelihood I'd be spending my life alone. I wasn't thrilled with that, but it seemed like my lot in life. I figured I was too socially retarded to be anything more than a passing fancy."
Long arms snaked around her, carefully pulling her into a hug. "You were never a passing fancy for me, Sara. Never. From the very start I was playing for keeps. I just never let you know that. You would've thought I was mentally unbalanced."
"Umm, Greg..."
"In a stalkery kind of way." He paused. "I just want you to know that I would've married you any day of the last five years. This has made my life complete. I mean that. For the rest of my life I'm going to be making sure you know just how much I love you."
Sara reached down and put the tray on the floor. "Come here," she whispered huskily, and laughed when he quickly obliged. "I might need you to show me again."
"Oh, I'll show you, all right. I have something really tangible for you right here."
"Mmmmmmm... you do love me, don't you..."