by Nicole Snow
“First weddings aren’t a practice run for number two,” I mutter. My heart’s hoofing it like a dozen racehorses, my palms sweaty. “I was young and dumb the first time around. Clueless, really. This time, with Fliss, I’m going in with eyes wide open. I’m scared as hell I’m gonna fuck it up again, Holt.”
“Far as I know, you didn’t have much fault in that whole mess, yeah?” He looks at me with those glowing gold eyes.
“Yeah. Plenty of mistakes to go around, but damn if I didn’t try to make impossible work till I couldn’t,” I say.
“Exactly. Do that again with the right girl this time. You risk fucking it up, you fight your battles, and you always kiss and make up after.” Holt folds his arms over his chest, looking at me with unexpected gravity when he usually looks a second away from telling a dirty joke. “You think Libby and I don’t still fight like the dickens?”
I blink at him and let a slow smile turn up my lips.
“Holt, fighting was what got you two together.”
“That’s a fair point.” He smirks. “Still, we get in some knock-down-drag-outs sometimes. Not because that’s who we are, but because we’re human. Sometimes someone’s gonna be careless or forgetful, or they’ll say something the wrong way, or maybe they won’t understand something like the other person means it. Feelings get hurt, egos bruised, trying to talk about it goes wrong, and next thing you know you’re yelling and storming off to your separate corners to lick your wounds, wishing down hellfire on each other’s heads.”
I grimace. “This doesn’t sound like much of a pep talk.”
“It is, if you let me finish.” He punches my arm lightly. “Look, you can’t expect two people to spend their whole lives together and never have any friction. It’s not realistic, Alaska. What matters is what you do about it, each and every time. Me and Libby, we choose to love each other no matter the weather, storms or sunshine. We give each other time to cool off, we back off before we cut too deep, and then we come to the table as equals and remind each other we’re always on the same side. We try to never be afraid to say we’re sorry. That’s more important than striving for perfection. Perfect ain’t possible. Choosing each other every time things go a little sideways? That is.” He grins, wide and encouraging and surprisingly down to earth. “Our Miss Felicity chose you once. Somehow, I don’t think it’s gonna be that hard to get her to choose you again and again, no matter what happens after today.”
“And remember, Dad,” Eli pipes up from where he’s standing behind Holt, fidgeting with the box holding my cufflinks. “If you mess up with Fel, I’m gonna be real mad at you. So you’ve gotta make it right.”
I roll my eyes, then catch him by the back of the neck and drag him over to rough up the hair on the top of his head.
“You think you’re in charge of your old man around here, huh? Grown-up enough to hand out love advice because you keep sending love letters to a certain little someone in Seattle?”
“Hey, no!” Laughing, he bats at me, turning beet red. Then he darts a shy glance toward the door, where I catch a glimpse of a ruffled skirt. Yep, there’s a certain someone in the bridal half of the wedding party. “Dad! Cut it out! Not in front of Tara,” he whispers.
“Hmph, it is my wedding day, so I’ll let you have your dignity. Still leaving your hair a mess, though, polecat.” I ruffle his hair into a fluffy black thatch again, then thrust my wrists out. “Go ahead. Cuff me.”
Eli rolls his eyes and groans before dutifully slipping my gold cufflinks into the buttonholes of my shirt. He fastens them neatly and beams up at me.
“Mr. Holt’s right, Dad. It’s gonna be okay. Just sayin’.”
Well.
If Elijah thinks so, I’ve got to believe it, don’t I?
Gray Caldwell—Doc—sticks his head inside with a gentle knock, letting us know it’s almost time.
“Gentlemen, if you please,” he says, waving his arm with a dramatic flourish.
Here we go.
I lift my head as the sound of the slow wedding march starts, warming up the crowd and telling everyone it’s time.
Straightening up while Holt smiles on, I suck in the same kind of deep breath I’d take before diving and demo ops.
Zero hour.
I need to get over my jitters, get out there, and let my life get the Midas touch.
Just the thought of making Miss Felicity Randall into Mrs. Felicity Charter makes me feel like gold, all right.
I glance at myself in the mirror one more time.
Take one final lung-busting breath.
Holt gives me an encouraging clap on the shoulder before I step out into the hall and into the main saloon. It’s gorgeous inside, the walls draped in white flowering vines, rows and rows of chairs set out with a bolt of white silk down the middle for the aisle.
I hear skirts rustling as the bridal party goes skittering out the side door so they can come in through those big swinging double doors and walk down the aisle—and while I take my place up front, the guys head out to join them.
The air bristles, the excitement so palpable you’d think everyone was marrying Fliss. Not just me.
It can’t match the feeling building up in my chest like a caldera as the music soars louder, triumphant, and sways in my ears.
Then those massive doors swing open.
All of Fliss’ friends come marching through first, her bridesmaids in pretty pale-lilac dresses, their hair piled up with flowers. Every last one of them hangs on the arm of her husband, my groomsmen in their tuxes.
Ember with Doc. Haley with Warren. Clarissa with Leo. Peace with Blake. Libby with Holt.
It’s not hard to see from the way they’re looking at each other, love etched on their faces, that they’re reliving that heavenly moment when it was their turn to walk down the aisle together.
One day.
One fine day that’ll be me and Fliss, basically levitating as we look back on this day for the rest of our lives.
One at a time, the couples reach the pulpit and fan out on either side.
I’m restless as hell standing up here, waiting, but trying not to show it—especially since Eli’s already flitting around the corners, taking pictures like he’ll miss a royal coronation if he stops for a single second.
I’d offered for him to be the ring bearer, but he said he wouldn’t miss catching photos of this for anything. His gift to me.
And mine to him, I suppose, letting him chase after his perfect shots.
I also can’t help being nervous when my parents are in the crowd, plus Felicity’s mother.
The first time I met Harper Randall, I thought she’d hug me till I popped.
With the trip all the way down from Fairbanks, this is the first my parents have seen or heard Felicity besides a few texted photos and polite phone calls. Considering how they disapproved of my choices with Katelyn, I’m hopeful.
Really, really hopeful they don’t let the past screw today up and poison the well for years.
I know Fliss is a heartbeat away when Tara comes next in the procession—plus an entire entourage of flower girls. She’s a proud queen sailing along with the ribbons in her dress trailing behind her, flinging daisy and lily petals everywhere.
The Caldwells’ and Fords’ tiny daughters toddle in Tara’s wake clumsily, occasionally remembering to throw out a handful of petals crushed in chubby little fingers.
Andrea Silverton brings up the rear, struggling not to break the mood and laugh as she herds the waddling, adorable little girls along and keeps them on the right path.
Then.
Oh shit, then.
A pause.
A collectively held breath.
Every eyeball turns to those huge double doors as Clark the pyro holds them open, and Felicity steps into the room.
By some unholy miracle, I don’t keel right over.
She’s never, never, never been more radiant.
It fucking breaks me and glues me back together in the space of a
whisper.
Her wedding dress is temptingly girlish, all sleeveless and strapless lace with a tight bodice bound just beneath her breasts by a violet ribbon. Delicate ripples of lace flow down to the floor like an inverted lily.
Her hair’s pinned up in a nest of ringlets, several trails cascading down her bare shoulders. The light catches on them and turns them into mahogany, cinnamon, copper, fire, chocolate, so many shades mingling with the little violet and white flowers woven into her locks.
I wasn’t sure if she was serious when she said she’d keep her natural look, but damn.
No—damn.
She doesn’t need any makeup.
The shine in her eyes, the blush in her cheeks, the joy exploding on her face all make her so beautiful, nothing could ever be an improvement.
As our eyes meet across the room, there’s no doubt in my mind that this woman will be my wife for the rest of our lives.
I can’t take my eyes off the shimmering glow of her gaze, holding me spellbound as she takes that processional walk up the aisle.
Then she’s there; then she’s with me, and every last hope and love and wonder I’ll ever have bursts out of me in a single soft word.
“Hey,” I whisper.
She smiles shyly, clutching at her lily bouquet hard enough to make it rustle.
“Hi, you,” she answers, ducking her head. “How did we end up here?”
“A black cat crossed my path,” I answer.
“Wasn’t it a fat orange one? And didn’t he go a little crazy?” she says with a wink.
“It was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me,” I say, emotion clawing at my voice.
She blooms for me with an unexpected giggle before the priest steps in.
I’m no stranger to weddings.
I’ve only been to over a dozen and done this once before, back in another life. None of it matters.
That was then and this is now.
This is new, this is all us, a fresh start.
I listen, savoring every word he speaks promising a lifetime of love, of support, of fighting for the future we want.
Somewhere in the crowd, I hear sniffling. Though I can’t take my eyes off Fliss, I actually recognize my son’s voice breaking, and catch a whisper of, “...this is so fucking amazing.”
Brat. I’ll let him off with that F-bomb this time.
Because honestly?
He couldn’t be more right.
There’s nothing more amazing than Felicity standing up here with me, more beautiful than a thousand summer nights, wanting me the same way I want her.
Holy damned Montana.
There’s nothing more fantastic than her little hands pressed in mine.
Nothing more incredible than knowing no mischief or misfortune will ever take us apart again.
We’ve worked too hard. We’ve earned the trust that’s only grown since that day we saved each other’s lives.
Saved each other’s hearts.
Saved each other’s souls.
And there’s nothing more spellbinding than the moment when suddenly Zachary Regis arrives at our sides, watching us with his solemn young man gaze as we take the rings from his small cushion and slip them on each other’s fingers.
Just like that, we’re bound in gold forever.
My heart almost hammers right out of my ribs to take flight when the priest finally says the magic words, asking if I take Felicity to be my lawfully wedded wife.
“I do,” I growl, without hesitation and with everything in me.
Fliss hardly waits her turn before it’s on her lips, spoken like a song, a prayer.
“I do.”
“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the—”
To hell with waiting for permission.
Catching my hot as hell wife around her waist, I pull her straight to my lips—into our first kiss as husband and wife, our first in an endless train of kisses bound to last a lifetime.
She clings to me like she needs me to live, and God knows I need her.
She’s everything, the taste of her so perfect.
I don’t even register the people shouting and applauding around us, crying, cheering, their joy a shallow echo of my own.
When I break the vow our lips make, I have to swallow and breathe rapidly to stop my throat from closing as I look down at her with a smile fit to turn me into dust.
“Here’s to the rest of our lives,” I breathe out the words—just between us, over the clatter of the crowd and their frenzied cheers.
She laces her fingers with mine. “Here’s to us, Paxton. Forever.”
Then we belong to our hearts and the town, wading through countless hugs and well-wishes.
We’ll have to go through the reception, the opening of gifts, but for now it’s just boisterous goodwill everywhere.
We’re like leaves caught on a human current, swirled between different groups who just want to wish us well.
Until suddenly we’re front and center with my parents. My father a stern, upright, quiet man, and my mother, elegant in her old-world way.
They stare at us with a certain reservation that makes me pray Ma won’t start this first day of our lives off by making Felicity feel rejected.
Come on, dammit. Don’t do this.
Fliss looks at my mother shyly, then offers a small, tentative smile. “It’s good to finally see you in person, Mrs. Charter.”
My mother’s quiet for a moment.
I’ve loved her and hated her throughout this life. She’s set in her ways, and still judges me for the young, dumb mistakes I made with Katelyn.
But maybe she’s ready to let go.
Maybe she, too, could let me start again.
Because after that brutal silence, she smiles, warm and sweet.
My father echoes it in his own way, giving a brisk nod.
“I believe that name belongs to both of us now, dear. We’ll have to get used to sharing,” my mother says, holding her arms out for Felicity. “Welcome to the family.”
Fliss walks into her arms with a soft, joyous cry, the two of them hugging as if they’ve known each other forever. My father claps my shoulder with another wordless nod of approval, and the nervous fear inside me unravels.
“You did good, son,” he whispers. “I like her already.”
For a second, I’m fucking speechless, wondering if I’ve patched some black hole in the universe to make a miracle happen.
I’m not expecting the small hand on my arm, either.
I look down into Harper Randall’s eyes, twin to her daughter’s, soft blue-violet and warm as she watches Fliss hug her new mother-in-law.
“I’m so glad,” she whispers, tears in her voice. “I’m so, so glad to see both of you moving on together.”
Yeah.
So am I.
I smile and hug my mother-in-law, grateful that she’ll be moving past her old tragedies right along with us.
The rest of the day’s long.
I finally get to dance with my wife as the wedding spills into festivities after dinner.
There’s cake. The tossing of the bouquet, which lands smack in the throng of the vultures and turns into a minor catfight.
Enough gifts to let us completely replace all the old, worn-out things in the house. And then something I hadn’t expected, hadn’t planned.
A carriage rolls through the dirt-packed lanes of the little restored ghost town, pulled by two stunning white horses and decked out in flowers and banners proclaiming Just Married!!!
Fliss and I both stop and stare.
“Alaska?” she whispers.
“Wasn’t me,” I answer, a little lost.
“Surprise!” Holt says, coming up behind us and draping his arms over both our shoulders. “That was my idea. And my wife’s. And her horses. You’re welcome.” He grins widely. “The two of you got a plane to catch for your honeymoon. Might as well get you out of here in style.”
For a moment I close my ey
es, overwhelmed.
I didn’t just find love in Heart’s Edge.
I found friends. I found a new brother. I found family.
I found my place.
With a barking laugh, I catch Felicity’s hand.
The two of us sprint to the carriage, and I hoist her up inside before following, dropping down into the plush seats. Holt slams the door on us with another devil’s grin and a wink, and then we’re off, rolling through the streets.
Dozens of guests trail in our wake, calling out to us with all their hearts, almost demanding that we be happy.
I watch them till I can’t see them anymore, never letting go of my wife’s hand, throbbing from head to toe with want.
I’m gonna need that honeymoon damned soon.
“That was some send-off,” I growl, and she laughs, tucking her head against my shoulder.
“Sure was,” she murmurs. “I think this is the first time in my life I believe they’ll welcome us back just as happily.”
“They will. Places like this are rare, and I’m glad as hell we call it home.”
Belize by night, viewed from a plane window, has to be one of the prettiest sights I’ve ever seen—and I’ve been all over the world.
There’s something mystical about the sight of Ambergris Caye.
The water shimmers dark blue with night, dotted with the soft golden lights of secluded vacation spots. Just makes it all the more gorgeous with my woman at my side, dozing in her seat and tucked against my arm.
If anybody asked, I couldn’t say why I chose Ambergris Caye for our honeymoon. It’s one more place on my bucket list, and the instant I described it to Fliss, she was in.
Now, picturing what the brilliant blue-green waters look like by day, lapping and jeweled against stunning white sand beaches, I’ve got a pretty good idea why I picked this place.
I’m hit with Glass Lake memories.
Of the moment when I witnessed Felicity as this mermaid made for sin, waiting to slip away from me and into those translucent waters forever.
I’d thought then how easy it was to lose her.
I hadn’t realized at the time just how easy it would be to love her.
Now, she’s here.
She’s mine.