“Where to now?” Sanders asked, looking at her in the rear view mirror. Tate let out a sigh, ran her hands through her hair.

“To the mall. Let's go back to a mall,” she said.

“You need more stuff?” he questioned. She smiled.

“Just a couple things.”

~12~

Jameson Kane was nervous. Very, very, nervous.

It was six-thirty, and no Tate.

He had known he was taking a risk. When Jameson had called his lawyer about drawing up the prenuptial agreement, he had figured on giving it to Tate in Boston. She could just come down to the office and the lawyer could explain everything. A conversation could actually take place.

But then it turned out Jameson's lawyer was dealing with another client in Singapore. Once Jameson got his mind set on something, though, it was hard to turn it off. He didn't want to go to Singapore, but he was willing to go to Hong Kong. His lawyer agreed to start on the paperwork, then they could go over it together when it was finished.

Jameson didn't know what Tate expected from him. Did she honestly think he would get down on one knee? Sing her a song or something? Fuck that noise. It hadn't even occurred to him.

The only thing that had been going through Jameson's head was that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and he wanted that to start as soon as possible. Immediately. So if that meant flying them halfway around the world, then so be it. Whatever it took.

Apparently Tatum didn't feel the same way.

“Don't worry, man,” Ang mumbled, then Jameson felt his hand on his shoulder. “She'll be here.”

“This isn't exactly how I pictured this all going. You're supposed to be here for her, not me,” Jameson sighed.

“Consider it a bonding opportunity,” Ang suggested.

“Don't make me ill.”

In all honesty, Jameson was grateful for Ang's presence. The younger man had an upbeat, jovial personality. Somewhat of a glass-half-full kind of outlook. So while Jameson felt like he was slowly drowning, waiting to see if she would show up, waiting for some sort of text or phone call, at least from Sanders, it was nice having Ang there, trying to cheer him up.

Though “trying” was the keyword.

“Maybe they got caught in traffic?” Ang offered.

“Please stop talking now,” Jameson groaned, then looked at his watch again. Six-forty-five.

“I do have another engagement,” the minister Jameson had hired piped up.

“Just give it some time,” Jameson snapped.

But fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of them. The sun had almost set and a strong breeze was rolling in off the ocean. A beach wedding had seemed like a romantic idea. Now it was just depressing.

Maybe she and Sanders ran away together. Would fucking figure.

“I'm very sorry,” the minister apologized. Jameson sighed and turned towards him.

“No, I'm sorry for wasting your time. Thank you for waiting,” he said, shaking the man's hand.

“Of course. And please, don't worry. I'm sure there's -,”

“We're here! We're here!”

Jameson turned around. Tate was running down the beach, Sanders jogging somewhat behind her. She was waving something in the air, trying to signal them. He took a deep breath, let his eyes fall shut.

“Thank god,” he murmured.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I had to return a bunch of stuff, and we lost track of time, and then traffic was a bitch, and I'm just so sorry,” she sounded out of breath as she reached them.

Jameson opened his eyes and looked down at Tate. Her dress was simple – a short, strapless, cream colored number. She didn't have any shoes on, or any accessories, except for a random batch of white flowers that she was clutching in her right hand. They looked liked they had been plucked from a garden. Her hair was up in a high, messy ponytail. Her eye makeup was dark and smudgy, and she wore pale pink lip gloss.

She looked exactly like the woman he had first met, catering that party so many years ago.

I am so fucking in love with this girl …

“I thought you were standing me up,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

“Please. I had Sanders stop by the hotel, I saw your will – very generous, Mr. Kane. I'm not going anywhere,” she teased him.

“God, I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“I'm sorry,” the minister interrupted, “would you still like to do this?”

It was short and simple, just how Jameson had been hoping. Sanders and Ang acted as witnesses. Tate said “I do”, which was like a weight off. No going back, now. When it came time to exchange rings, she tried to wave the man away.

“We don't have those, it's okay,” she told him. Jameson held up his hand.

“Maybe you don't, but I do,” he said, digging in his pocket.

“You got me a ring?” she asked.

“I already had a ring,” he corrected her.

“You had a ring, and instead of giving me that, you gave me that prenup!?” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips.

“I was going to give it to you after you looked at the prenup, but you were too busy having a fucking fit. Now shut up and hold out your hand,” he ordered. She did as she was told and he slid the large diamond onto her ring finger, happy that it fit well. He'd had it sized based on one of her other rings.