Beautiful Beginning(47)
unguarded moment, would have seen him trace a fingertip from my temple to
my chin, or kiss the back of my hand when he didn’t think anyone was
looking, and realize I’d found the one man other than my dad who loved me
more than anything on the
planet.
Catching Bennett in these private moments had been what won my father over
to Bennett’s side, eventually. After our disastrous Christmas visit to
Bismarck over a year ago, where Dad grilled Bennett endlessly and finally
walked in on me riding him like a rowdy cowgirl in my childhood bed, Dad
came to stay with us in New York for a week. Bennett, predictably, had been
working like a fiend for the first few days, and Dad grumbled endlessly
about how a man should provide for his family not only in material ways but
also emotional.
But then one night, when Bennett got home well after midnight and Dad got
up out of bed to get some water, he found us on the couch, my head in
Bennett’s lap and his fingers running gently through my hair as he
listened to me ramble on about every detail of my day. Bennett had been
exhausted, but, as usual, he insisted I spend time with him, no matter how
late. Dad admitted the next morning that he had stood, mesmerized, watching
us for a full five minutes before he remembered himself and left to get his
water.
I caught him giving Bennett a look over my shoulder and then heard my
husband’s deep, real laugh—the one that bubbled up from low in his belly
and came out sounding like the quietest, happiest sound.
“What are you two up to?” I asked my dad, pulling back to look at him.
“Just giving my new son some nonverbal advice.”
I gave my father a warning look and then caught Bennett’s attention as my
father turned to me. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Ask your husband
what that was all about.”
Dad pulled me into a hug, kissing my cheek, before Bennett came to my side,
bending to whisper, “Your dad just indicated he wants five grandkids.”
My screech of horror was drowned out by the heavy bass blasting through the
speakers, signaling to the guests that the real party had started. Crowds
rushed to the dance floor and we took the opportunity to go get a drink of
water. Will passed us on our way, flanked by my aunts.
They sandwiched him between them good-naturedly and Will’s head fell back
in laughter. “For the love of God, Hanna, where are you?” he yelled.
Across the room she lowered her fruity drink, held up her hand decorated
with a beautiful engagement ring, and called out, “Is that what this ring
means? That I come to your rescue?”
He nodded fervently, shouting, “Yes!”
Finally, after a nice, long bit of staring at the poor boy, Hannah walked
to him and pulled him away from my laughing aunts and into her arms. I
smiled, turning back to Bennett.
“Can we leave now?” he asked, eyes dropping to my mouth.
The crowd had barely thinned, and I knew the party would probably continue
on for another few hours, but right then all I wanted was to get upstairs
and get my husband out of his tux.
“One more hour,” I said, pulling back his jacket sleeve to glance at his
watch. It was only eight thirty. “One more hour and then I’m all yours.”
After what ended up being three hours—three hours of dancing and drunken
toasts, of Max and Will carrying Bennett to the bar for a final round of “
man shots,” of pure, wild celebration—Bennett came up behind me at the
bar where I stood talking to Henry and Mina, and slid his arms around my
waist.
“Now,” he whispered, kissing my ear.
I leaned back into him, smiling at my brother-and sister-in-law. “I think
that’s my cue.”
There were no flower petals to throw in our wake, no handfuls of rice.
Instead, Will and Henry grabbed handfuls of cocktail napkins and drunkenly
chucked them at us as we ducked away from the bar and waved to our guests.
“Good night everyone! Thanks for coming!” I called out above the catcalls
and whistles.
Bennett pulled me forward, waving over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“It was so good to see you all!” I yelled, still waving to our family and
friends.
He practically dragged me away before lifting me and throwing me over his
shoulder. The approval of our guests was communicated with roaring applause
and another stack of napkins that caught Bennett in the back of the head.
He carried me all the way to the lobby and then slid me down his body,
kissing my neck, my chin, my lips. “Ready?”
I nodded. “So ready.”
But when I turned toward the elevators, he stopped me with a big hand
wrapped around my forearm. And then his other hand pulled a blindfold out
of his pocket.
“What . . . ?” I asked, a wary smile spreading slowly across my face.
“What are you doing with that in the lobby?”