“Oh my god,” she breathed, bringing her hand to her face. “This is beautiful. Jesus, Jameson, where did you get it?”

“Harry Winston.”

“Pardon?”

“Harry Winston. I had it made in New York. It took a while, I worked with a lot of designers. If it was going to sit on your finger, then it had to be perfect. No one else will have that ring. Just you.”

Tate stared at him for a second, tears filling her eyes. He hated it when she cried, but he was glad that she remembered. Glad she remembered as well as he did.

“There will never be a ring from Harry Winston. I will never ask you to marry me. I don't want those things, I never did ... I don't want to put stars in your eyes, I'm not that guy. I'm the devil, and I don't have any plans to change ...”

I am so fucking stupid. I take back everything I said – I should've gotten her this ring in the beginning. We should have been together from the start. I am that guy, and I do want to see those stars in her eyes. Want to know I'm the only one to put them there.

Luckily, before Tate's tears could spill over, she practically jumped on him, kissing him in a way that made the minister blush.

“Excuse me. Excuse me!” the man cleared his throat. “I haven't gotten to that part yet.”

“I think they're there, dude,” Ang's voice laughed.

They broke apart long enough to hear the rest of the minister's speech and thank him. Jameson gave him a huge tip before waving goodbye. Then he shook hands with Ang and thanked him for being there, thanked him for his calm demeanor. Ang laughed at him, then actually hugged him.

Jameson managed to keep his dinner down.

Tate threw the bouquet in Ang's face before giving him a quick kiss goodbye, thanking him profusely and promising to wake him up early the next morning so she could yell at him for keeping everything a secret. Then she kissed Sanders, but there wasn't anything quick about it. She practically dipped him, shoving her tongue into his mouth.

“Alright, alright,” Jameson snapped. She pulled away laughing.

“Told you,” she snickered, winking at Sanders. Jameson had no clue what that meant and chose to ignore it, walking a little ways back with Sanders.

“Thank you, for doing all this. I know it makes you uncomfortable,” Jameson said, resting his hand on Sanders' shoulder.

“It's not so bad, when I know the outcome will be a good one,” the other man replied.

“You had more faith than I did. She was so angry at the hotel, and then that was a looooong hour wait,” Jameson told him.

“Yes. She had somewhat of a break down in the car. Sometimes it takes her a while to realize what is good for her,” Sanders explained.

“Sometimes I think I'll never understand her as well as you do,” Jameson sighed.

“A little mystery is good for a relationship.”

Jameson barked out a laugh and stopped walking, pulled Sanders into a hug.

“I'm so glad you came. There's no one else I would want by my side at this moment,” he whispered. Sanders nodded, hugging him back.

“Not half as glad as I, sir. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.”

They pulled away, clearing their throats and blinking their eyes. They made plans for the next day, then Jameson said goodbye before turning and heading back to Tate.

“I almost thought you were going to go home with him,” she laughed. Jameson rolled his eyes.

“You have to obey me now, you took an oath, so shut the fuck up,” he ordered. She snorted.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“What do you want to do now, baby girl?” he asked, looking down at her as they strolled along the beach. She shrugged.

“I don't know. This is your party. You didn't plan anything beyond this?” Tate asked.

“Not really.”

“You suck at this.”

“Tate?”

“What?”

“Shut up now.”

“You know,” she ignored him, “if you had done this like a normal human being, there'd be a reception. A party, with people, things to do.”

“Ah. A normal human being. And what else would happen at a normal human being wedding?” Jameson questioned.

“Stuff. You'd throw the garter, I'd throw my bouquet, we'd do stupid dances, then you'd carry me over a thresh hold,” Tate prattled stuff off. Jameson sighed and stopped walking. He wrapped his arm around her waist, then yanked her legs up, cradling her in his arms.

“There's no thresh hold, so this will have to do. Where's your garter?” he asked, heading up the beach, towards a parking lot.

“I'm not wearing one.”

“Damn. Give me your panties, we'll throw those instead.”

“Not wearing those, either.”

“You, Mrs. Kane, are a very, very bad girl,” Jameson said in a low voice. She smiled up at him.

“That I am, Mr. Kane. You should probably punish me,” she suggested.

“Oh, I intend to.”

Jameson carried her up to the parking lot, but what he saw when they got there caused him to set her back down.

“What? What is it?” she asked, straightening out her dress. He didn't answer and she followed his scowl.

A group of guys was standing by the car Jameson had rented for himself. Most of them had large cameras hanging around their necks. How they'd found out what was going on, Jameson had no clue, but clearly, the secret was out.