by Ella James
Sister is pacing the house, ranting and still doling out slaps, when I hear the wheels on the gravel drive outside.
I forget how to breathe.
“My crew,” she says in Spanish. She races to the door, and I hear the sound of someone kicking something as my blood runs cold.
“Cross,” I sob.
And then there he is.
He’s cutting through the ropes, lifting me up into his arms. Behind him, Marchant has Sister penned to the floor. A moment later, two of the ranch’s security guards take over. They haul her outside, and Cross wraps himself around me.
I hear sirens.
“What’s going on?” I mange.
“Jail for her,” he tells me.
A long time passes as I hold him. I’m keeping my body strained, myself rigid and tough. And then I let my head sag on his shoulder.
“I made a big mistake. I love you,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“Will you take me back?”
“Merri.” His lips press against mine. “I’ll always take you back.”
Chapter Seven
ELIZABETH
I’m standing under the trees, beside the pond, looking out at my closest friends and family, all dressed up and sitting in white fold-out chairs.
The group is divided into two, each chunk on opposite sides of our grassy aisle. At the front of the crowd is the pastor, behind a podium.
Everything is beautiful. Simple. Lots of ferns and white ribbon.
But really, my eyes are searching for Hunter.
I finally see him walk up behind the pastor, and despite the absence of Cross and Marchant, who should both be with him, I feel myself relax a little.
Suri and Loveless, who dressed me, are right beside me if I need them. I wonder where Cross and Marchant are as the music starts, and some of Hunter’s poker buddies start walking our relatives down the aisle.
I watch my mother smiling on the arm of a tall, red-haired guy I recognize from the some of the tournaments. Things haven’t been perfect with her these last few months, but she’s still trying, and I can respect that and even enjoy her company in small doses.
I watch my mom be seated, and notice her looking over my shoulder. I turn and find my dad walking up, wearing a black suit and smiling.
“You look gorgeous,” he tells me as he kisses my cheek. “Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod.
And there they come. Behind Hunter and the pastor, I see Marchant, Merri, and Cross, dirty and, in Marchant’s case, bloody.
For a moment I’m worried. Scared. And yeah, a little disappointed at the timing. But then the music starts, they file beside Hunter, while Merri hurries back to me, and our wedding is starting. There’s no time to be anything but…thrilled.
Marchant flashes me a small thumbs up, and I know we’re safe.
When Merri reaches me, she throws her arms around me and whispers, “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” There’s a blood-smear on her cheek. I wipe it with my thumb. “You okay?”
She nods.
She and Suri and I embrace, and their whispers to me are drowned out by the music, which the man at the baby grand piano just behind us is starting to really pound out.
I’m nervous as I look down at my dress, then at the aisle. I’m nervous, but Hunter catches my eye and smiles.
He smiles while my girls file down the aisle before me. While the piano pounds its notes and sets the tone—for something exciting. Something life-changing.
He smiles while my Dad slides his arm through mine and whispers, “You look beautiful. My daughter.”
And when I look up and we take our first slow step, I notice that my Mom is grinning. Suri, Loveless, Juniper, Marchant, Merri…
They’re all smiling as I start to walk. And then the crowd stands up.
My hair blows in a light breeze, and my hand curls around Dad’s arm, because I’m nervous that my shoes will get stuck in the grass, but the only thing on my mind is Hunter.
His gaze holds mine, guiding me down the aisle like a beacon of light.
On his right side, Marchant smiles. I see he and Suri catch each other’s eye, and I could swear he mouths, “you next.”
Cross and Merri, over to my side, and still standing, are holding hands. They both look relaxed and happy.
And by the time I stop at my designated spot beside Hunter, he’s beaming. I’ve never seen him smile this big. A light breeze blows, tossing my hair behind me, ruffling Hunter’s golden locks.
The pastor starts to talk, and Hunter and I clutch each other’s hands. I look into his eyes, and he grins. His thumb strokes my hand, and I hear his low voice say, “We got this, Lib.”
I nod, and just before we start to say our vows, when everyone is silent but the pastor, I have the most amazing feeling of peace. And love. Like everyone here is a friend, and all is right in the world.
And for a moment, it is.
It’s a snapshot I will frame later. A memory I’ll pull out in seven and a half more months, when I’m screaming in agony, trying to birth my daughter, and Hunter leans over my bed and says, “Libby, try to think of something good.”
It’s a feeling that will cloak me when I’m tired and covered in toddler grime, and Hunter is in Vegas, filming a tournament, and Olivia has already been in time out six times this morning. Which is tiring me out, because I’m newly pregnant with baby Oliver.
This feeling of love, it will stay with me.
And as time moves forward, it spreads out, like a long red ribbon, through Marchant and Suri’s family, as they welcome little Liam. And Cross and Merri’s family, as Merri gives birth to Evelyn and Angie on a stormy summer afternoon.
This feeling of love creates a perfect moment.
It’s mine.
And I’ll hold onto it.