Mary Margaret was up next. The wedding coordinator had taken over the stereo and pushed a couple of buttons. The theme from Beauty and the Beast was what she picked for the rehearsal. I couldn't get her to tell me what she was using for the actual wedding. I'd been trying for three months to pry it out of her. She hadn't even told David, and Mary Margaret was not known for being able to keep a secret. It was amazing she'd held out so long.
She had her ribbon bouquet from her shower held in her hands. Her face was alight with love and hope. She walked steadily and firmly down the aisle, never questioning where she was headed or what she was doing. I'd had knots in my stomach from the time Neal proposed until we broke up at the Jolly Roger. I didn't think I would ever be able to walk down the aisle as a bride with the confidence that oozed from her in waves.
She reached the front and David walked down to meet her, taking her hand and placing it through the crook in his arm. They walked onto the bridge together, and the music stopped. The coordinator hustled forward, too dignified to actually run, and adjusted us a little bit to make sure we all were in perfect place for perfect pictures. She stepped back to admire her artwork and nodded to the minister.
The minister walked us all through the ceremony, when I would take the bouquet (I took it), when they would say their vows (they turned to face one another, holding hands), how everything would work (the wedding coordinator had a few bossy words for us all). After about ten minutes of going over the details, I handed Mary Margaret back her bouquet, and she and David returned down the aisle to another Disney classic that I knew wasn't the real one for the wedding.
Killian and I walked toward one another for our trip back down the aisle; it being at least a little easier than the trip up. Graham and Ruby followed with the minister close behind. The coordinator was quite happy with things, but she wanted to run the whole thing once more. David, Graham, and Ruby groaned. Mary Margaret punched David and queued the music back up.
The rehearsal was finally finished, and we all retired to a private dining room at the country club. It was a nice dinner, the food quite good, which was promising for the wedding as they were catering. After dinner, we all ended up at the club's watering hole for drinks. At some point in the evening, I ended up alone at the bar, having finally extricated myself from the flirtatious Ruby. Graham wandered over to join me.
"So, Ruby…" he said, hesitating a bit.
I took a deep swallow of my drink. "Aye, Ruby…" I glanced up at him. He looked very uncomfortable. "What is it, Hunter?" I asked, grumbling a bit as I drained my drink.
"Any interest there," he said. "On your part, that is."
I looked at him askance. "Mate, knock yourself out. She is not my type at all."
"Isn't she everyone's type?" Graham asked, his voice low and filled with awe as he stared at her across the room.
I shook my head and chuckled. "Not mine, mate. She's all flash, no photo."
He laughed out loud. "I think it's 'all flash, no substance.'"
"Be that as it may, I prefer my version."
He glanced over my shoulder to the blonde goddess that was Emma at the other end of the bar. "Your version?" he asked.
I glanced down at the other end of the bar to where Graham indicated, seeing Emma sitting alone. I gave Graham a shove towards Ruby. "Go for it, mate. Enjoy yourself," I said, ignoring his innuendo. He laughed at me.
"Good luck, buddy. She seems a bit too prickly for me," he said as he wandered off.
I picked up my glass and walked over to Emma, sitting on the barstool beside her. "So, Tucson?" I asked.
She nodded into her whiskey. She was drinking Jolly Roger again. The bartender had left her the bottle. She noticed my glass was empty and slid the bottle over to me. I poured a good measure into my glass and sipped it.
I picked her hand up off the bar. "I'm going to miss you," I whispered into her fingers. "I'm going to miss you so much. I already do." I turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into the palm.
She pulled her hand free and used it to pull my face towards hers. She made me look in her eyes. What I saw startled me. She looked so utterly lost, eyes full of pain and something else I couldn't decipher. I leaned down, touching our foreheads, noses.
"Emma, do you ever think about…" I faltered. "If, maybe?" My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn't breathe.
He was so close. My heart fluttered. Suddenly, I was afraid of leaving. "This is the wrong place for this conversation, bud," I pulled back, giving him a small smile. He drew in a shuddery breath. I was just glad he couldn't hear my heart trying to break out of my chest. "Maybe there's another place we can go, for a while?"
We walked over to the guest cottage he, Graham, and David were staying in that night. I could feel the tension thick between us. He walked into the galley kitchen, flipping lights as he went. "Rum or whiskey?" he asked.
"Stocked the place already?" I chuckled.
"It's a party, Swan," he said.
"Rum's fine," I said.
He handed me a half-full tumbler. "Cheers."
We clinked glasses before walking into the cozy living room. We sat down on the sofa, and it was so awkward. We both just sat there, sipping our rum, staring out the window to the darkened golf course. Finally, I drained my glass and turned to face him. I needed to know, to understand, if there might actually be something there between us. He had said he was in love with me, but there was this war inside my head over whether or not that could possibly be true. We had always been friends, good friends. He was, undeniably, gorgeous. But he was also kind, generous, and had been incredibly loving with Milah. He was a good man, and I loved my friend. But could I truly love him? Did I?
"Killian." He had frozen at the sound of my voice, like he was waiting for some shoe to drop or a bomb to explode. I took his empty glass and sat it on the table. "When you came over that night to talk about what happened..." My voice sounded breathless, even to my own ears. I knew it sounded that way to him. "I was pretty sure you were crazy. I'm not a hundred percent sure now that you really aren't. I'm leaving in a couple of days. It pretty much screws up whatever might be, but… I don't know what I'm saying." I shook my head and looked down at my hands.
He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, then he turned and looked at me.
"Don't say anything at all," he whispered.
There was fire in his eyes, his ice-blue irises barely visible. His gaze drifted down to my throat, his eyes narrowed as he caught the flutter in that treasonous vein in my neck. Catching the back of my head in his hand, he leaned down to press his lips against my pounding pulse.
My head fell back, and a moan escaped my lips. His left hand slowly brushed up my thigh under the edge of my sundress. His thumb grazed the soft flesh of my inner thigh as he wound his way higher to my hip. My left hand was pinned between his thigh and the sofa cushion, my right went threading through his inky black hair. Abruptly he stood, pulling me with him. His hands snaked under my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bedroom.
I stole a couple of lines from Stargate: SG1, in case anyone noticed. I always loved Ba'al's line about "all flash, no photo," that fabulous accent and devilish smile very... piratey. :) Hope everyone enjoys! Let me know what you think!