The music shifts to the bridal march, and my heart flutters.
Soon, I’ll be doing this. The walk down the aisle, anyway, though Damien and I have decided to walk together, and to music other than the bridal march. We’re already married, after all, and that simple fact gives me so much joy that I only want to add to it, not re-do it.
Damien meets my eyes, and I feel that tug in my chest. The sight of him, so proud and perfect. And Evelyn glowing with happiness. I turn away just long enough to look at our girls in their seats by the arch, and see that they are looking at him with pride as well—their daddy walking their Ebby down the aisle.
“Dada!” Bradley’s cry rings out, and laughter rises again from the small group of invited guests as Damien grins at his son and Evelyn blows Bradley a kiss.
Behind Damien, I see Wyatt Royce standing at the end of the aisle, taking the candid photos that Evelyn insisted she wanted as a record of the day.
It’s because my gaze lingered on Wyatt after Damien passed that I’m still turned in my seat, and that’s how I notice the dark-haired man with a trimmed beard rise from his seat in the last row. He’s dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black vest under a matching jacket. He hesitates, then lifts his phone as if taking a picture before slipping out past Wyatt to leave the ceremony altogether.
I frown, but there’s nothing I can do now except wonder who he was. I know all the guests, and though the guy seems somewhat familiar, I can’t place him. I’m certain, however, that he wasn’t invited.
Considering the style of his suit, he’s probably part of Alaine’s catering staff, but that means I need to talk to Alaine about reminding his people to not wander the house or the grounds.
I push it out of my mind for now, and the last remnants of worry flutter away as Damien leaves Evelyn’s side to come sit in the seat beside me, lifting Bradley into his lap as he does so.
He takes my hand, and I lean in with a sigh as Evelyn and Frank exchange the familiar vows to love, honor, and cherish. Right then, my heart couldn’t be fuller as I watch these two people who are so important to us. My father, who worked so hard to turn around a relationship that he’d once walked away from. And Evelyn, who has always been more family to both of us than our own blood.
Damien’s thumb casually strokes my hand as they exchange rings. And with timing that is nothing short of perfect, the sun disappears below the horizon as my father very tenderly kisses the bride.
The reception is spread out over the pool deck, and soon most of the guests head that direction, including Sylvia and Jackson who take all the kids with them, but not until after Damien and I have had a chance to hug the four oldest and tell them what a great job they did in the ceremony.
As the five cousins skip away, Bradley holding tight to Lara’s hand, Damien and I linger, watching Wyatt take a few shots in front of the lights and flowers.
“Not too formal, Wyatt,” Evelyn says. “Why the devil would I want a picture of us looking formal?” My dad laughs and slides his arm around her, and right then I don’t think I could be happier.
“It was beautiful,” I tell Evelyn, as she pulls me into a hug. “I’m so happy for you two.”
“I’m quite pleased with us myself,” Evelyn says. She reaches for Frank’s hand. “I think this time, we both got it right.”
“Yes,” he says, and the love in his eyes is so clear my vision turns misty. “Yes, I’m sure we did.”
Half an hour later, the reception is going strong. The kids are playing on the playscape that we installed just off the patio. Bradley is in the sandbox with Anne, and Lara and Jeffery are on the swings with Ronnie taking turns pushing them. They’re all still relatively tidy, but I don’t expect that to last for long. Already, Lara’s hair has slipped out of the bun and the hairpiece is now part of the sandbox project.
But they’re having a blast, and that’s all I care about right now.
For that matter, as I sit on the edge of one of the chaise lounges and glance around, I can’t help but notice that everyone seems to be having a great time, especially Evelyn and my dad. They’re laughing and mingling and holding hands, and my heart swells so much I actually feel breathless.
“Hey,” Damien says, coming to my side with a glass of bourbon for him and one for me.
“You look happy,” I say, taking the drink, then tilting my head back to receive his kiss.
“I am,” he says, then shakes his head as if forestalling my next question. “None of that matters right now. Tonight is about family,” he adds, as he sits beside me. I draw a breath, lost in the pleasure of being close to my husband and surrounded by our family. And not just the people who share our blood. We’ve built something together, and it’s moments like this that such a simple fact overwhelms me. Because in the years before Damien, all I wanted was to escape my mother, the only family I had back then.
True, I had Jamie and Ollie, but pretty much no one else. We three made up a trifecta of tight friendship that had supported and nurtured me. But this…
Well, this life and family we’ve built is more than I ever hoped for or expected, and I’m feeling so sentimental tonight that I’m certain I’ll be a blubbery mess at our own ceremony next week.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Anne comes running up to us, and Damien bends forward so that he can scoop her up. “It’s the other Frank’s song! Dance with me, Daddy. Please, please?”
The song is Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon, and it’s on the playlist that Evelyn and Frank picked out for the reception. “How could I say no?” He shoots me a grin. “Come on, Princess. Lead the way.”
I watch as they head to the dance floor where Lyle Tarpin, an Oscar-winning actor who Evelyn represents, is already swaying with his wife Laine in his arms. Their relationship had started off almost as crazy as ours after they’d found themselves pretending to be engaged after some provocative photos landed on social media. Like Damien and me, they’re now blissfully in love and very happily married.
We’ve known Lyle for years, and when Anne was young he used to play airplane with her, holding one arm and one leg and twirling her around and around. He’s one of her favorite people, and I’m not at all surprised when Damien and Lyle switch partners for the next song, and Lyle holds Anne’s hands as they sway to I Hope You Dance.
“She’s getting so big,” Jamie says, coming over to me with Bradley on her hip. “And I believe this one belongs to you.”
She passes him off to me, and I accept my sleepy hugs and kisses with pleasure. “I don’t know, Jamie,” I tease. “You and BB looked pretty cozy. And Ryan has that awed look.” I grin at her. “Danger, Will Robinson.”
“Don’t even joke about it. He’s been cuddling Mandy for the last twenty minutes, and I swear Wyatt and Kelsey are going to have to hit him over the head with a club to get their daughter back.” Mandy is six months old and she has her parents—and all the other adults in her life—wrapped around her tiny little fingers.
“He’s ready, James,” I say softly, then watch as she sighs.
“I know. He really is. And I love him so much, you know? I mean, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Hell,” she adds sardonically, “there’s nothing I haven’t done for him.”