by Robin Huber
I’m suddenly filled with nerves. Maybe it’s the buildup of not seeing Gabe all day, or maybe it’s the small crowd that’s gathered to witness this very intimate moment between us. I’m not sure which, but my hands begin to shake.
“Dad.”
“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, placing his hand over mine.
I hear the soft strum of the acoustic guitar that’s accompanying the ceremony and I try to steady my heartbeat to its soothing melody.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I close my eyes and open them again to a beautiful fall day. I hadn’t really noticed before, but it’s absolutely gorgeous today. The sky is strikingly blue—there isn’t a single cloud in it—and the sun is shining through the trees, illuminating the hanging moss, and throwing slanted shadows on the leaf-covered ground. It doesn’t usually get cold in this part of Georgia until after Thanksgiving, but today the air is crisp and cool.
I take another deep breath of the clean fall air, letting it resonate through me, and it erases what’s left of my nerves. The music changes and I know that it’s our turn now. My dad looks down at me and says, “I think that’s our cue.”
I smile and nod, and tighten my arm around his as he leads me around the side of the barn, careful not to step on my dress, until we’re standing before the century-old oak tree that Gabe carved our initials in when we were seventeen. Tears fill my eyes when I take in the view. White paper lanterns and delicate crystals hang from the twisted moss covered branches above two sections of white wooden folding chairs and the faces of our closest friends and family.
Everyone stands and I can feel their eyes on me, but the only face I see is Gabriel’s. He’s standing at the end of the aisle, smiling his breathtaking smile, pulling me toward him with his warm golden brown eyes.
I blink back my tears and take him in from head to toe. He’s wearing a fitted pale-gray vest, matching suit pants, an ivory shirt with a navy blue tie, and tobacco brown leather shoes. His face is shaved smooth and his hair is arched over his forehead in a little wave. He cut it after the surgery, since they had to shave half his head, and he hasn’t grown it back out yet. It’s just long enough to cover the new c-shaped scar above his ear.
He looks like he just stepped off a page of a magazine. I want to run to him and take his handsome face in my hands, but I manage to contain myself and stay by my father’s side as we slowly walk toward him.
Roxy is sitting at Gabe’s feet, patiently waiting for me. I smile at her when I see the ivory ribbon tied around her neck. She barks once and everyone laughs, including me. Gabe reaches down and touches her head, and she shakes her floppy ears back and forth.
When we reach the end of the aisle, Trisha takes my bouquet. She and Audrey look beautiful in their champagne-colored chiffon dresses. My dad lifts my hand from his arm and carefully places it in Gabe’s. And everything else disappears.
All I see is him.
All I feel is him.
His long fingers move over my hands and wrap around them. His palms pulse against my skin and his breath falls softly on my forehead as he leans in and whispers, just loud enough for me to hear, “Qui valait l'attente.” That was worth the wait.
What was left of the breath in my lungs rushes out on a wave of emotion and it takes all my control not to pull his face to mine and kiss him before the ceremony even begins.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, wiping a tear from my cheek.
The minister begins to speak to our guests, but I stay locked inside my Gabe bubble, half listening, until it’s time to say our vows.
I pay close attention to the minister and repeat the traditional words that will marry us.
“I, Olivia Charlotte Dalton, take you, Gabriel Chréstien North, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part. This is my solemn vow.” I smile and slide Gabe’s simple white gold wedding band onto his finger.
Gabe takes his turn repeating after the minister. “I, Gabriel Chréstien North, take you, Olivia Charlotte Dalton, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part. This is my solemn vow.” He slides my wedding band onto my finger, and I beam up at him.
“Liv, I believe you have something you want to share,” the minister says to me.
I nod and gesture to Trisha who hands me a familiar folded-up piece of paper. I open it with shaking hands and look at Gabe. “Gabe, you wrote me a letter on my eighteenth birthday...”
He nods and smiles softly.
“I wanted to share it today...if that’s okay with you.”
He nods again.
I try to swallow down the emotion that’s choking me so I can read it. “‘Liv’”—my voice wobbles a little—“‘tomorrow you will turn eighteen.’” Gabe wipes a stray tear from my cheek and I smile at him. I take the moment to steady myself so I can continue. “‘You will legally be allowed to vote...You can buy cigarettes, but please don’t.’”
Soft laughter comes from the small crowd.
“‘And you can even join the military, but please don’t.’”
More laughter.
“‘You will officially be an adult...None of that really matters to me, though...I will love you the same tomorrow as I do today.’” I glance up at him and he smiles at the words that are now hanging in a frame above our bed. “‘And I love you the same today as I did when I was sixteen...I’ve been privileged to watch you grow into the beautiful woman you’ve become, and I thank my lucky stars every day that you chose me.’”
The laughs have turned into quiet sniffles now.
I drop my hands and look into Gabe’s eyes, and recite the rest of the letter from memory. “‘The coming years will be a challenge, no doubt. But as long as we’re together, I know we can navigate whatever comes our way. I promise to be your compass when you start to feel lost. I’ll be your beacon home when the world gets too big. No matter what path life chooses for us, I will always be your true north.’”
Gabe brings his hands to my face.
“You were my compass, Gabe. You were my beacon home. You are and always have been my true north. And I promise, for as long as I live, I will be yours.”
Epilogue
Gabe, Three years later
I’m balancing a cake in my left hand and balloons in my right when I walk through the front door and find Liv standing on our dining room table, hanging streamers from the light fixture above it. “Liv! What are you doing up there?”
She steps off the table just in time for me to drop the cake, let go of the balloons, and catch her very pregnant body in my arms.
“Liv, are you okay?” I examine her stomach.
“I’m fine,” she says, laughing, “but Brandon’s cake isn’t.”
I look down and see our toddler son eating his third birthday cake off the floor. Brandon looks up at us with big green eyes and waves his little icing-covered hand at me. “Hi, Daddy!”
Roxy slides across the hardwood floor and starts licking the icing off Brandon’s face.
“Roxy. No!”
She sits up straight and gives me big innocent brown eyes. Brandon giggles and pats her back.
I put Liv down and pick him up. “Buddy, you’re not supposed to eat that yet.”
He smiles and shoves his little fingers into my mouth.
“Oh, it’s good,” I mumble, licking the icing off my lips.
“I think I can salvage it,” Liv says, bending over to pick up the cake.
“I’ll get it,” I say, putting Brandon down. “Come on, buddy, let’s help Momma take your cake to the kitchen, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
I ruffle his sandy blond curls and follow Liv into the kitchen with the cake.
We bought this house a few years ago, because we fell in love with the propert
y, and we’ve been renovating it ever since. It’s just a mile from my parents’ place and the property is about the same size, complete with a barn I use as my workshop when I’m not at the warehouse where my furniture line is manufactured now.
Gone are the days of making furniture in my parents’ garage. But I’m happy to see my business growing and becoming one of the top furniture manufacturers in the Southeast. I’m also happy to be able to provide for my family doing something I love.
Liv is also providing for our family as a freelance book editor—her dream job, as she puts it. It helps that we’re both able to work from home. We put in a double home office, complete with two desks and a play area for Brandon. And I have a full staff that keeps production running smoothly at the warehouse.
The final renovations on the house were completed last week, after we decided to add another room for the new baby, and today we’re having everyone over for Brandon’s birthday. It’s probably the last time we’ll be able to get together before the baby’s born. Liv is due in three days. Brandon was born a week late, after twenty excruciating hours of induced labor, but the doctor assures us Liv is right on schedule this time.
Liv’s parents should be here soon and mine just pulled up. Trisha is here too. Liv’s due date lined up perfectly with her husband’s hockey schedule, which has him in Canada right now, so she’s staying with us until after the baby’s born. Audrey and her husband, John, will be here too. Brandon is pretty smitten with their little girl, Mallory, who just turned two.
“Grandma!” Brandon shouts, running over to my mother when she walks in.
“Ah, petit bébé,” my mom says, pulling him into her arms. “Joyeux anniversaire!” Happy birthday!
“Merci,” he says, thanking her in French. Brandon speaks French as fluently as he speaks English.
“Where’s my big birthday boy?” my dad asks, walking into the kitchen.
“I’m right here, Grandpa!” Brandon says, running over to him.
My dad scoops him up and puts him on his shoulders.
“Liv, honey, you gonna make it through the party?” he asks, looking at her stomach.
She laughs and pats her belly. “Oh, I think he’s got a few days left.”
“He? What makes you think it’s a boy?” my mom asks, placing her hands on Liv’s stomach. Much to everyone’s anticipation, we chose to wait until the baby is born to find out the gender.
“I don’t know.” She smiles at me and it takes my breath away. “I just feel like Brandon’s supposed to have a brother,” she says, reaching for my hand.
“Me too,” I say quietly.
“Take me outside, Grandpa!” Brandon says, patting the top of my dad’s head.
“All right.”
“Come on, Grandma!” Brandon bounces on my dad’s shoulders.
My mom laughs and follows them outside.
When we’re alone, I pull Liv into my arms and kiss her. “Je t'aime tant.” I love you so much.
“Pas autant que je t'aime.” Not as much as I love you. She reaches for my hair and runs her fingers over the c-shaped scar above my ear, and I’m overwhelmed as I think of everything we went through to finally get to this place in our life together.
I hold her face in my hands and look into her green eyes—the ones she shares with our son. “You are my compass, Liv, my beacon home. You are, and always were, my true north.”
Her eyes mist a little. “Gabe.”
I kiss her again and thank God for this beautiful girl who came into my life when I was just a boy. For letting me know and love her brother like he was my own. For guiding us through everything we went through to get where we are today. For my son and for the new life He’s blessed us with. For bringing me out of the coma and for being seizure free for the last three years.
There was a time in my life when I didn’t think I deserved the happiness I know today. I blamed myself for the accident. And for losing Brandon. But I know now that it wasn’t in my hands.
None of this is.
And one day, I’ll get to see my brother again.
Until then, I will love Liv and our babies, and cherish this precious life we’ve built together.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my agent, Joanna MacKenzie, for championing this story from the very first draft to the book it became. Your endless support and encouragement keeps me going. I’m so grateful for your guidance on this amazing journey. Thank you to Abby Saul for seeing the potential in this story when it was still work in progress. It was perfectly serendipitous to work with you again on the final stages of publishing it! Thank you to my editor, Lexi Smail. Your opinion, candor, and ability to make me laugh at myself is invaluable. I loved working with you on this book and hope to work on many more together.
To my people—you know who you are—my cheerleaders, who read my stories before anyone else does, who listen to me talk about plotlines and story settings, who fall in love with my characters before I even write them, who tell me to keep going, to write on, and that I can do it all...thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
To you, the reader, thank you for spending time with this beloved story of mine. If you enjoyed it, I’d love to hear from you! Connecting with readers is one of the most rewarding parts of storytelling. To the bloggers, reviewers, and Instagrammers who have helped spread the word about my books, thank you so very much. Your enthusiasm and support for my stories means the world to me!
To my husband, Kevin, thank you for being my compass in this beautiful, complicated life. You are, and always have been, my true north.
About the Author
Robin has been dreaming up book boyfriends since before she ever had one. A career, a husband, and three kids later, she’s still hopelessly addicted to love stories that make her swoon. Robin is an extroverted introvert with an unhealthy dependency on her horoscope and a knack for plotting emotionally charged romance novels on her way to work, where she spends her days as a hospital director. She loves the ocean, thunderstorms, coffee, wine, and Tim Riggins. She hates turtlenecks, chunky jewelry, kitchen gadgets, and high heels, though she begrudgingly wears them often. She also has an aversion to extreme cold, which is why after a four-year stint in the Northeast, she returned home to Florida where she’s living happily ever after.
For more about Robin and her books visit:
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