Hopelessly Devoted(9)

I mock-glared at him.

“Do your pants up and get in. There’s a party going on and you’re not going to want to miss it.”

Paul refused to tell me what was going on, but it soon became clear the Plaza reception wasn’t happening.

Paul drove us from the private beach to his parents’ retreat in East Hampton with a stupid grin on his face, and as we made our way up the long drive, the sound of fifties music became clearer.

I looked at Paul and raised an eyebrow, but instead of an explanation, I received instructions. He parked the car and led me to the gardener’s cottage that sat to the left of the main building, while rambling off a to-do list.

“Now, when you get inside, go to the second bedroom. Your clothes are on the hanger behind the door.” Paul pulled his phone from his pocket and took a quick look at a text before putting it away. “Everyone’s ready. Don’t question it, babe. Just get changed, and I’ll meet you out here in ten minutes. Okay?”

I stared at him, uncomprehending. All I could think about was the Plaza. I was prepared for the Plaza. I knew what was going to happen at the Plaza. Now I knew nothing. I didn’t know what to expect, and it was freaking me out a little.

Paul caressed my shoulders, obviously sensing my panic. “Breathe, babe. I’m right here.” I stared mutely at him. “Do you trust me?” I think I nodded. Whatever I did had Paul smiling again. “Would a blowjob help?”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Paul laughed, then kissed me softly. “Go get changed. I promise you’ll like it.”

“No Plaza?”

“No Plaza.”

I grinned. “Okay, but you owe me a blowjob.”

My Danny Zuko costume was waiting for me, and I think I stared at it for longer than I should have. I realized then what Paul meant when he said the ceremony was for everyone else.

This was for us.

I quickly shed my tuxedo, changed into Danny, and when I opened the door, Kenickie was waiting for me, cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

The sight of him nearly knocked me on my ass. “Is that blowjob still on offer?”

Paul chuckled and tucked the cigarette behind his ear. “Later, I promise.”

Kissing me quickly, he grabbed my hand and led me out of the cottage and into the main house. There was no one around as we walked through the main hall, our boots making dull thumps on the marble tile, the music becoming louder as we headed toward the rear of the building.

Just as I went to open one of the back doors that led out to the terrace and gardens, the music stopped. Paul turned me to face him.

“Are you breathing?” he asked.

I took a deep breath to make sure. “Yes, surprisingly.”

Paul’s grin was wide. “I wanted to make this special for you. I knew you were anxious about the Plaza and all the guests, and I nearly told you it wasn’t happening a dozen times. But I didn’t want to miss the look on your face when you see what’s outside.” Paul took my hands in his and kissed each knuckle, making my lungs seize. Even though he’d married me and declared his everlasting love and devotion in front of half of New York’s VIPs, I still had trouble believing the most gorgeous man on the planet was mine. “I love you, Mr. Jason Jennings-Connor,” he continued. “Let’s party.”

Paul opened a set of French doors and led me onto the terrace, his arm tight around my waist. Just as well because I would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for his comforting and grounding grip. As we stepped out, the music started again, and You’re The One That I Want came blaring through the speakers.

Brightly colored lights lit up the large grassed area, and tall potted trees framed two parallel sides, marking the way down to the private beach in the distance. The effect made the expansive grounds feel more intimate, yet still open. The night was clear and warm. The moon hung just above the horizon, and it sparkled off the water like diamonds. In the middle of the lawn was a parquet dance floor and partly hidden off to the side was a DJ and a small wet bar. Tables and chairs were placed strategically around the perimeter, and servers weaved in amongst the guests with platters of food and champagne flutes. It wasn’t the serving trays that distinguished the waiters, but more so their attire. They were the only ones dressed in black-tie. Seeing it all laid out before me confirmed my suspicions that a wedding planner had been discreetly engaged.

Paul squeezed my waist in a reminder to breathe. Apart from the servers, everyone was in costume. I don’t mean any kind of costume, I mean fifties style, Grease costumes. Pink ladies, T-birds, teen angels, and Eugenes were everywhere.

“Holy. Shit,” I whispered. Paul squeezed my side again. “You did this for me?”

“Have you not worked out how much I love you yet?”

“I think if I don’t know now, I’m an idiot.”

Paul laughed and kissed the side of my head. “Tell me what you don’t see.”

I scanned the crowd, who were looking at Paul and me, waiting for us to do something. Some were drinking from their champagne flutes while talking softly, and I think I saw Mrs. Connor—who made a mean-looking Rizzo—dab her eye with a tissue when she saw us emerge from the house.

It dawned on me what was missing. “Where are the Dannys and Kenickies?”

“There aren’t any. There is only one Danny and Kenickie, babe. Right here.” He kissed my temple again, and I melted at his side.