They were five minutes that Kit and Pendleton spent standing at the foot of the back porch, staring at each other. As each one of those minutes passed, all he could think was that he’d never seen her looking more beautiful, more lovable. Why Kit couldn’t envision herself the same way, Pendleton couldn’t imagine. But somehow, some way, he’d make her understand exactly what kind of woman she was. And what he had up his sleeve right now—literally—was going to go a long way toward proving to her just how important she was to him.

Only after the other Pendletons waved goodbye and closed the gate behind them did Kit finally break the silence. “I can’t believe your family does what you ask them to do. You have them trained so well.”

He shrugged. “They only want what’s best for me.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “And what would be best for you, Pendleton?”

Hey, that was an easy one. “You.”

Kit started to shake her head, but he tugged on her arm and led her toward the back door. “Come on,” he repeated.

“Why?” she asked. “What is it you need to show me?”

“Just come on,” he said again, weaving his fingers snugly with hers. “You’ll see.”

He thought she was going to balk, but after only a small hesitation, she swept the hand that wasn’t holding his forward, indicating he should precede her through the back door. Her footsteps dragging only a little bit, she followed him into the house. Through the kitchen. Through the dining room. Down the hall.

Pendleton didn’t stop moving forward until he reached his old bedroom, which his parents had changed not one bit since he moved out of it to go to college. The walls were still decorated with faded blue race car wallpaper, and the twin bed was still covered with a red chenille bedspread. The windowsill played host to a half-dozen models of World War II tanks, the bookcases were overflowing with Hardy Boys mysteries and back issues of Road and Track, and his desk was virtually obscured by an elaborate HO setup.

He’d always loved this room. And having Kit here with him now fulfilled an adolescent dream of his he never thought would be reality. He closed the door behind them, so that fantasy wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Sit down,” he told her as he released her hand. She watched him warily for a moment, then began to make her way to the chair by his desk.

“Not there,” he said. “On the bed.”

She whipped around to face him. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

He held up his hands, chest high, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. “I have no intention of taking advantage of you,” he told her. Then, after a meaningful pause, he qualified, “Until you tell me to.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “That’s not going to happen.”

He smiled indulgently. “We’ll see. Sit.”

Miraculously, she did as he asked without further argument, perching on the side of his bed near the foot. But instead of sitting still, she lifted the bedspread and reached between the mattress and box springs, feeling around as if searching for something.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, “my first night here, while I was searching your room, I found something that belongs to you.”

“You searched my room?” he asked, wondering why he was surprised. “You violated my boyhood domain?”

She kept feeling around beneath the mattress, but met his gaze with an expression that clearly stated, Well, duh. “Ah-ha,” she said before Pendleton could comment. Her hand ceased its movement, then, with one swift gesture, she withdrew a battered, dog-eared glossy magazine, turned to the middle of it, and unfolded the naked woman dwelling within.

“In addition to eighty-seven cents in change and a fossilized Milky Way that was stuck behind one of your bookcases, I found this.”

Pendleton smiled wistfully. “Miss January 1989.”

She arched her eyebrows in surprise. “You remember?”

“Oh, you bet.”

“This is your idea of the perfect woman, I suppose.”

He shook his head. “Nah. That was my idea of the perfect woman when I was thirteen. I was an idiot then.”

“I see.”

“But until you came along, she was the only woman I ever brought to this bed.”

Kit quickly refolded the centerfold and stuffed the magazine back under the mattress. “I don’t want to know.”

“Aw, come on. Sure you do. Because you’re about to take Miss January’s place. In my bed. In my heart. In my life.”

“In your dreams.”

“Yeah, there too.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing more. So Pendleton reached behind himself with one hand and bunched his sweatshirt in his fist, pausing only long enough to make his intentions perfectly clear. Evidently, he succeeded, because Kit’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

He hesitated, but didn’t release his shirt, making it obvious he intended to snatch the garment over his head. Still, just in case she didn’t understand, he told her, “I’m taking my shirt off.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” she said.

He tugged once, hard, and pulled the garment over his head. “Oops,” he countered easily. “Guess you were wrong. Guess I am taking my shirt off.”

He jostled his arms so the sweatshirt scrunched down, revealing the T-shirt he wore beneath. Then he scooted it down over his hands, wadded it up in a ball, and turned halfway around to toss it toward a basketball hoop that hung on the back of his bedroom door. It fell through easily, scoring a two-pointer quite nicely.

“Yes,” he murmured as he turned back around to Kit.

“Don’t you dare take your other shirt off,” she commanded.

In response to her edict, Pendleton reached behind himself again, this time bunching his T-shirt in his fist.

“Pendleton…”she said, her voice laced with warning. “Don’t… you… dare.”

In one smooth move, he removed his T-shirt, too, pausing with it wrapped around his upper arms, obscuring his naked chest. “Oops,” he said again, smiling. “Guess you were wrong about that one, too.”

Kit stood, both hands clenched into fists at her sides, clearly intending to bolt.

“Sit,” Pendleton instructed her.

She shook her head. “If you’re not going to do what I tell you to do, then I don’t have to do what you me to do.”

“You’re not going anywhere until I show you what I need to show you.”

Her cheeks stained with a blush of pink that Pendleton found very becoming. “Thanks, but I’ve already seen it,” she said.

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Not like this, you haven’t.”

“Pendleton would you just—”

He shed his T-shirt completely then, tossing it aside, and Kit’s mouth immediately quit running. It didn’t close, but it did stop running. Then she gaped at him, her gaze fixed intently on his chest. A specific part of his chest, as a matter of fact. The part where kids put their hand when they say the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. Right where his new tattoo was.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Is that real?”

He rotated his left arm slowly, working out some of the achiness he still felt in the muscles beneath the spot where the week-old decoration lay. “Yeah. It’s real.”

Kit only shook her head in silence as she approached him, her gaze never leaving the illustration of not one, butwo big ol’ nasty cherubs hovering on each side of a heart. As she drew nearer, she lifted her hand toward the tattoo, her fingers curled gingerly in preparation of touching it. At the last minute, she halted, turning her gaze up to meet his.

“Is it okay?” she asked. “If I touch it, I mean?”

“Why, Miss McClellan,” he said with a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

With a shaky smile of her own in return, she extended her hand and traced her fingertips gently over the words inscribed within the heart. Not Kit. Not Katherine. What Pendleton had the tattoo artist inscribe was Katherine Atherton McClellan Pendleton.

“Oh, Pendleton,” she murmured, her eyes filling up to brimming with tears. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“The pain factor was enormous,” he told her. “It hurt like a sonofabitch. Not to mention the fact that they had to shave my chest to put it there. Do you know what it’s like for a man who’s entering the hair-loss phase of his life to watch while someone shaves his chest?”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “No. I have no idea what that’s like.” A single, fat tear spilled from each of her eyes, tumbling down her face in a slow stream. “But I do know what it’s like to have someone fall in love with me. Pendleton…” Gingerly, she brushed her fingers over the tattoo again. Then, very, very quietly, she repeated, “I can’t believe you did this. I can’t believe you…”

As her words trailed off, he brushed his thumbs over each of her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Immediately, however, two more took their place. “What can I say?” he asked softly. “Love makes a guy do crazy things.”

She smiled. “You really do love me. You love me.”

The fact that she said the words as a statement, and not a question, indicated Kit had come a long way in her view of things. He cupped her jaw with his hand and dipped his head forward, brushing his lips tenderly over her cheek.

“Yeah,” he said quietly when he pulled back to gaze upon her face, “I really do love you.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving his. Then, in a soft murmur, she said, “Pendleton?”

“Yeah?”

“Take advantage of me.”

He smiled. “Well, okay. If that’s what it takes to make you happy.”

As if she couldn’t wait for him, Kit pushed herself up on tiptoe and covered his mouth with hers, scooping her fingers into his hair, urging his head down for a more complete taste of him. Where their previous joining was slow, leisurely and tentative, Pendleton wanted a union this time that was fast, intense, and decisive. Considering the demand in Kit’s kiss, not to mention the wanting inside him that came with more than a week’s separation, he felt pretty certain that was exactly what they were going to have.

Evidently, Kit was pretty certain of that, too, because she removed her hands from his hair long enough to cross her arms over her torso and grab the hem of her sweater. Unfortunately, she seemed less willing to remove her mouth from his, and once her sweater was over her arms, it only made it as far as her neck. No matter, Pendleton thought as he moved his hands behind her back to deftly unhook her brassiere. They could work around this. They could.

She pulled her arms from the straps of her bra, and that, at least, fell to the floor. Then, as she went to work on the buttons of his fly, he lowered the zipper on hers. Awkwardly, they undressed each other as well as they could, then finally, finally, Kit pulled away long enough to drag her sweater over her head and toss it to the floor. Pendleton started to move in for another mating of their mouths, when Kit lifted a hand, index finger extended upward, to stop him.

“Wait,” she said.

“Wait?” he repeated incredulously. “But I came all this way just so you and my tattoo could become intimately acquainted.”

“Hold that thought.”

She smiled as she turned her back on him, and he had to admit that observing her from this new angle had its advantages. What could he say? Kit had a great ass.

“I found something else when I was violating your boyhood domain the other night,” she told him. “Something that might come in handy now.”

He watched as she moved to the bookcase and scanned the shelves before removing a copy of Carnal Knowledge. After opening it, she withdrew a length of condoms and dangled them from thumb and forefinger for his inspection. Oh, man. He forgot all about those. Talk about your wishful adolescent thinking.

“Those have got to be fifteen years old,” he told her.

“Yeah, but latex means never having to say you’re sorry, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Does it?”

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

She replaced the book and strode naked toward him, and just like that, Pendleton was hard as a rock and ready to roll. Unbelievable. Never had a woman had such an immediate, unequivocal effect on him. He wondered then if he would ever get enough of Kit McClellan. Probably not, he decided as she came to a stop in front of him. It was a good thing they had the rest of their lives to enjoy each other.

She swung the band of condoms in front of his face and said, “You pick.”

He closed his fist around them. “What happens if the one I pick turns out to be too old to rock and roll? What if it breaks? What if you wind up pregnant?”

She cocked her head to the side and eyed him with much consideration. “What if I do?”

Something warm and wonderful welled up inside him. “So you want to have kids?”

She cupped a hand over the tattoo, stroking her thumb back and forth across it in a way that made his heart race. “Yeah, I do,” she told him. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon wait a couple of years and have you to myself for a while. But if it happens before then…” She shrugged. “I think it would be a lot of fun to have a couple of little Pendletons running around the house.”

“Well then,” he said, tearing the first packet free from the chain, tossing the others over his shoulder, “say no more.”

She didn’t. Instead, she smoothed her hand across his tattoo one final time, then skimmed it over his heart, up along his throat, and into the hair at his nape. With a gentle nudge, she urged his head down to hers, and as she kissed him deeply, she backed both their bodies toward the bed.

Somehow, between the two of them, they stripped the bedspread, sheet and blanket down, then Pendleton folded his body over Kit’s as she leaned back on the mattress. The moment they were prone, however, he rolled to his back, pulling her atop him. He flattened his palms over her shoulder blades, ran his fingertips along her spine, curled his palms over the twin curves of her fanny, dipped his fingers deftly into the crease that separated them.

“Oh,” Kit murmured against his mouth. “Oh, Pendleton.”

Hastily, he sheathed himself in the condom, then he lifted her hips over his rigid length and guided her down. The moment he was inside her, Kit straightened, arching herself forward as she reached backward to cup him in her fingers. He groaned out loud, filling his hands with her breasts, thumbing the velvety peaks to ripening. Then he moved inside her. Again and again and again. Kit caught his rhythm easily, matching her body’s motions to his.

Incandescence. That was what the two of them created together. The fire built, higher and higher, until it threatened to consume them both. Just when Pendleton thought he would burst with it, Kit cried out above him, stilling as a shudder rocked her body and went crashing through his. Then, he, too, fell silent, as wave after wave of euphoria washed over him. For one interminable moment, their slick bodies felt fused as one. Then Kit slumped forward, burying her face in his neck, and Pendleton wrapped his arms around her waist, fully intending to never let her go.

When they finally found the strength to move, she rolled from atop him and nestled against his side. He curled an arm around her neck, covered her breast with his hand, and pressed his lips to her temple. For long moments, they only lay in silence, catching their breath, collecting their thoughts. With one final sigh, Pendleton smiled.

“Do you know,” he whispered breathlessly, “how many times I lay in this very bed as a teenager and envisioned some big blond under the covers with me?”

Kit smiled as she cupped her hand over the tattoo on his chest, but she said nothing.

He rubbed his cheek affectionately over the crown of her head, curling his fingers into her hair. “I love you, Katherine Atherton McClellan.”

She propped herself up on one elbow and gazed down into his face. “And I love you, Rocky Pendleton.”

He grinned. “Hey, you said my name without laughing.”

She grinned back. “Yeah, well, I guess I should get used to it. You’re going to be my husband after all. Still, you won’t mind if I call you Pendleton, will you? I’ve kind of gotten used to it.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care what you call me. As long as you promise to have me and hold me till death do us part.”

“Oh, I definitely intend to have you and hold you. Over and over again. It’s going to take more than a little thing like death to keep me away from you.”

He reached up to thread his fingers through her hair, over her cheek, along her jaw, across her mouth. “Then there’s just one thing left to settle,” he finally said.

She inhaled a shaky breath, then released it slowly. “The wedding date,” she said softly.

He nodded. “The wedding date. Your call, Kit. Whatever you decide, I’m behind you all the way.”

She ran her fingertip over his lower lip, smiling when he gave it an affectionate nip. “You’d take me even without the Hensley millions?” she asked.

His gaze fixed with hers. “You know I would.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I do know that.”

“Then it’s your choice. You do whatever you have to do.”

She continued to study him in silence for a moment, then she nodded again, slowly. “Okay,” she said. “I will.”

 

It was a beautiful day for a wedding. Kit stood before the mirror in her bedroom at Cherrywood, turning first to the left, and then to the right, as she observed herself in the cheval mirror one final time. Her bridal gown was a simple, ivory silk, sleeveless sheath, her only accessories a pair of tea-length, ivory gloves and the pearl necklace and earrings her mother gave her when she graduated from high school. Her hair was a mass of glimmering dark gold curls, and her face…

Kit smiled at the reflection in the mirror. She was, to her way of thinking, very beautiful. And she was all set to go downstairs and marry the man she loved. The man who loved her.

Her man. Pendleton.

A quick knock at the door alerted her that the time was nigh. “Kit?” Holt called out from the other side. “The minister’s here. You all ready?”

She’d never been more ready for anything in her life. “You bet,” she called back.

When she opened the door, Holt’s expression softened. “You look beautiful,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back. “Yes, I do, don’t I?” Then, with a quick perusal of her brother in his dove-gray morning wear, she added, “You don’t look so bad yourself. If it weren’t for the fact that Pendleton is such a spectacular specimen of manhood, I’d say there’s a chance the best man was going to outshine the groom today.”

Holt thought about that for a moment before saying, “Thanks. I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Where’s your bouquet?”

“My maid of honor has it.”

His expression clouded with confusion. “You have a maid of honor? This is the first I’ve heard about it. She wasn’t at the rehearsal last night.”

“No, she wasn’t able to make it,” Kit said easily as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “She had another appointment last night.”

“Well, who is she?”

With a delicate tug on her gloves, Kit pushed past her older brother. “She’s downstairs. Come on.”

Still gazing at his sister suspiciously, Holt crooked his elbow, and Kit graciously linked her arm with his. Then, together, they descended the stairs. Clearing the kitchen was something of a challenge, seeing as a bevy of caterers was in there putting the finishing touches on a wedding feast to serve the fifty-odd guests seated outside. But without so much as a misstep, Kit and Holt survived the press, and made their way through the back door.

Beneath a cloudless sky of perfect azure, the back yard glittered like an emerald. And there, in the farthest corner, amid Lena Hensley McClellan’s celebrated rose garden, was a wedding party that awaited the appearance of the bride. Sister and brother strode forward, and Holt nodded at the chamber ensemble as they neared. Immediately, the delicate chords of Pachelbel’s Canon lifted into the air.

“Oh, there’s my maid of honor now,” Kit said, lifting a hand to wiggle her fingers in greeting at the woman who approached.

She saw Holt follow her gaze, noticed how his mouth dropped open in surprise, and watched as his lips slowly curled into a smile. Faith Ivory did look stunning, Kit had to admit. Her lavender tea-length dress, otherwise identical to Kit’s gown, suited her well.

“Hi,” she said softly when she drew alongside Holt. She dropped and lifted her gaze a few dozen times, then smiled shyly.

“Hello,” Holt greeted her back.

Being the goofy older brother that he was, he said nothing more. Funny, Kit thought, how she’d never noticed Holt was so prone to blushing.

“You’re Kit’s maid of honor?” he finally asked, dispelling the awkward silence.

Faith nodded coyly.

His gaze ricocheted from her to Kit and back again. “You’ll forgive me if I find this development a little surprising. I didn’t realize the two of you were even acquainted, let alone friendly.”

This time Faith was the one whose glance flitted from face to face. Ultimately, however, her attention lingered on Holt. “Yes, well, your sister can be very persuasive. About a lot of things.”

Sparing a brief glance toward Kit, Holt replied, “Yeah, she sure can be.” Then he returned his attention to Faith. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you, too. It sounds crazy, but I’ve really missed you. Funny, isn’t it? We hardly spent much time together. But I still missed you.”

He shook his head, lifting his hand to skim his fingers lightly over her cheek. “That’s not crazy. I missed you, too. Will you stick around for a while this time? Find out how things are going to develop?” He smiled. “Even if it is a conflict of interest for us?”

“It’s not a conflict of interest anymore,” she said. “I quit my job with the Temperance League. I’d like to start practicing law again.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

She smiled. “I will. In fact, I think we have a lot to talk about.”

He smiled back. “Good thing we have a lot of time to do it.”

Kit cleared her throat as unobtrusively as she could. “Yes, well, as enchanting as I find this little reunion—after all, I am the one who’s responsible for it, something I hope the two of you will remember when it comes time to name your firstborn daughter—you’ll have that lot of time you want later. After my wedding. Right now, I’d like to get married if the two of you don’t mind.”

With obvious reluctance, Holt released his sister’s arm and dismissed himself from the two women. Then he strode easily up the white satin aisle that spilled over the grass, and took his place beside the groom.

The groom, Kit marveled for perhaps the hundredth time since waking that morning. Now there was a word she’d never planned on using personally in her lifetime. But there he was all the same. Her groom. Pendleton.

The music swelled and segued to “Pictures at an Exhibition,” Faith’s cue to make her own way down the aisle. With a brief smile for Kit, she handed over the modest bouquet of gardenias meant for the bride, then clasped her own smaller version to her abdomen and made her way slowly toward the rest of the wedding party.

Then it was Kit’s turn. Once again the music changed, As the tune blossomed into “That Man of Mine,” she inhaled a deep breath and took a slow step forward. Then another. And another. And another. She didn’t stop moving forward until she stood beside Pendleton, who, she had to admit, looked good enough to eat. Like Holt, he was dressed in formal morning coat and trousers. Unlike Holt, however, he stirred a need deep inside her she wasn’t sure would ever be satisfied. He lifted his hand toward her, and, without hesitation, Kit curled her fingers over his.

The minister inclined his head toward both of them, and then, in a voice full of warmth and promise, he recited the words that would bring Kit and Pendleton together for all eternity. When he came to the part about speak now or forever hold your peace, only one person spoke up.

Kit.

“Hold on a sec,” she said, lifting one gloved hand, index finger extended for emphasis. She turned gracefully to face her father. “Although you know how much I adore the cheese dome you got us, Daddy, I think there’s one more wedding present you promised me. Do you have it?”

Her father’s face was impassive as he reached into his jacket and withdrew a slender white envelope from the breast pocket. Without a word, he approached his daughter and handed it to her.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she sang out happily as she curled her fingers around it. Then she turned even further, scanning the group of guests seated on the bride’s side. “Mr. Abernathy?” she called out to the elegantly dressed man in the second row.

Hatton Abernathy rose, and when he came forward, Kit handed the envelope to him.

“Not that I think for a moment that Daddy would try to pull a fast one, but would you mind looking that over real quick, before Pendleton and I get on with the I do segment of our program?”

“I’d be delighted,” Mr. Abernathy replied as he withdrew the document from inside.

For five full minutes, the wedding paused, while Hatton Abernathy inspected the wedding gift from Kit’s father. Finally, he looked up and nodded. “Everything is in perfect order, Miss McClellan. At the trust’s expiration next week, Mrs. McClellan’s estate shall revert to the family as she indicated. And over the next twenty years, Hensley’s Distilleries, Inc. will donate a total of ninety-nine-point-four million dollars to the six charities of which your mother was so fond, in addition to their usual philanthropy.”

Kit smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Abernathy.”

Her father grumbled beside her. “Don’t you think there’s someone else you should be thanking other than Abernathy?”

Kit turned to face her father and smiled. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for agreeing to the terms I asked for. And thank you for Pendleton, too.”

She leaned forward and brushed her lips over her father’s cheek. When she pulled back, Holt McClellan, Sr. nodded gruffly once and returned to his seat, with Hatton Abernathy following immediately behind.

After that, nothing in heaven or on earth could have stopped Kit’s wedding. With the announcement that she and Pendleton were husband and wife, the two of them turned and embraced, kissing each other for all they were worth.

A rousing cheer went up from the groom’s side, initiated by Axel Pendleton, and quickly chorused by virtually everyone present. Then Pendleton scooped Kit into his arms and carried her back down the aisle, under the trellis, across the backyard, through the back door to Cherrywood. Although he was tempted to just keep going and not stop until he reached their honeymoon destination of Veranda Bay, St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands, he knew his wife would never forgive him if she didn’t have the opportunity to say her proper goodbyes. After he made his way into the majestic McClellan dining room and set his bride down near the buffet, he was surprised when Kit looked at him with obvious consternation.

“What?” he asked.

“You know,” she began slowly, “why don’t we just cut the cake and then beat a hasty retreat?”

He arched his eyebrows in surprise. “You don’t want to hang around for your own wedding reception?”

She shook her head. “No. I’d rather go to a hotel and make wild monkey love with my husband for the rest of the day and night.”

Pendleton pretended to give that some consideration. “Um, yeah, okay. We could do that.”

“Kit! Rocky!”

“After I get rid of my family,” he amended when he saw the other Pendletons striding toward them. When he noted that Carny was accompanied only by her son, Joey, he asked, “What? You didn’t bring your new boyfriend?”

His sister didn’t seem too concerned about the man’s absence. “We split up. He was such a wimp. Call me a sexist, but I think a man should just be, you know…manly.”

“Oh, look,” Kit piped up beside him, pointing toward the main entrance to the dining room, where a very tall, very fit, very blond-and-blue-eyed man stood, his face handsomely lined and tanned from obvious exposure to the elements. “My brother Mick made it after all. He must be fresh off the plane from Zaire. And doubtless, by now, he’s feeling very, very manly. Perhaps Carny would like to meet him.”

Pendleton chuckled. “Perhaps she would.”

Before he could move to make the introductions, however, Kit continued blithely, “And Bart brought Donna. How sweet. They’re planning to elope tonight. Did you know that?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“And,”Kit continued, “observe my brother, Dirk, over yonder.”

She pointed to the other side of the room where Professor McClellan stood with a woman who was even taller and broader than he. She was an acquaintance of Bart’s, a woman the youngest McClellan son had introduced as a Marine Corps drill instructor.

“Dirk and Matilda are hitting it off really well,” Kit noted. “I think she’s exactly the kind of woman he needs, don’t you?”

“Could be,” Pendleton agreed. “Could be.”

“Well, then,” she went on in a rush of words, “I think that takes care of just about everything, don’t you?”

He thought about that for a moment. “Don’t you want to say hello to your brother, Mick?”

Kit raised herself up on tiptoe, fluttered her gloved hand in the air and yelled, “Hello, Mick! Good to have you home!” Then she lowered herself to Pendleton’s side and said, “There. Now can we go?”

“Does this mean we can get on with that wild monkey love thing you mentioned?”

Kit nodded eagerly. “Uh-huh.”

“Then cut the cake, sweetheart, and let’s get out of here.”

Without further comment, Kit picked up the beribboned, sterling silver knife that sat beside the enormous, three-tiered froth of white that was their wedding cake. Then she lopped off a serving for two, wrapped it in a linen napkin, and spun around to face her husband.

“I’m ready when you are.”

“Let’s do it.”

The couple turned to the guests, the last of whom were making their way into the dining room, and lifted their hands in farewell.

“See y’all later!” Kit called.

“Yeah, we’re outta here!” Pendleton added.

As their guests gazed at them in complete befuddlement, Kit snatched her bouquet from where she laid it on the buffet, and lobbed it into the air. Pausing only long enough to see it descend beautifully into Faith Ivory’s hands, she turned to her husband again.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too,” he told her.

And that, she knew, was all that mattered. So, turning their backs on everything else in the world, Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton beat a hasty retreat. They paused at the front door for another lengthy kiss, then, laughing, made their way out to the little Porsche parked in front—the one that was decorated with a slew of tin cans tied to strings, a homemade sign announcing their newly married state, and a bumper sticker that read, I LOVE MY TATTOO FROM TATTOO CHARLIE’S. As the motor revved and they lurched away from Cherrywood, Kit turned to gaze upon her husband.

As she leaned over to brush her lips across his cheek, she murmured, “You’re my man, Pendleton. You’re my man.”