by Wood, Vivian
“I know he’s bored upstairs,” Eulah said. “All the bridesmaids fussing over Remy, makeup and dress pins everywhere.”
“How about I take him to Walker for a bit?”
Shiloh raised his head. “I looooove Uncle Walker.”
Sawyer patted his back. “I know you do, buddy.”
“He’s the coolest,” Shiloh mumbled, laying his head down again.
“That would be nice,” Eulah said. She started to turn away, then paused and eyed Sawyer. “You all set for today?”
Sawyer grinned. “Are you asking if I’m gonna run away and leave your daughter at the altar?”
Eulah flushed.
“No, just… checking in.”
“It’s all good. I’ve never been so sure about anything as I am about your daughter.”
Eulah immediately teared up, and Sawyer waved her off. “Go on upstairs, save that for the ceremony.”
He headed back down the steps, rubbing Shiloh’s back in soft circles, feeling his son’s breathing start to even out. He was going to be out like a light in a few minutes.
Sawyer walked through the side yard between the bunk house and the main house, figuring Walker or Colt would be near at hand. Along with Micah, they were going to be standing up with him soon…
So he hoped they were helping with the setup, not drinking whiskey in the barn.
When he walked around to the front yard, he stopped dead in his tracks. Pulling up right in the middle of the gravel drive was his father’s shiny, bright red Mustang.
The doors opened, and The Colonel and Marilee climbed out, shading their eyes against the morning sun. The Colonel was in full Navy dress whites, Marilee in a skintight baby blue dress and her usual impractical stiletto heels.
Remy, he thought instantly. She invited him.
His fiancee had been insistent that they invite Sawyer’s father, but Sawyer had put his foot down.
Or at least he’d thought so…
Sawyer’s grip on his son tightened, an automatic reaction to seeing The Colonel. Aside from church socials, Sawyer didn’t see his father at all.
That was just the way he liked it, too.
Still, as he stood and watched his father and Marilee walk toward him, Sawyer felt a bright burst of anger flare in his chest.
“Mornin’,” The Colonel said, casual as you please.
“Hi Sawyer!” Marilee said, patting her bright blonde hair.
“You have a lot of nerve, showing up here today,” Sawyer said, keeping his voice low and cool so as to not disturb Shiloh.
“We got an invitation,” The Colonel said, straightening the left sleeve of his dress uniform.
“From the woman who you threatened, bribed, and blackmailed to keep my son away from me, no less,” Sawyer gritted out.
The Colonel glanced at Marilee. “Go ahead inside, hon.”
Marilee glanced between The Colonel and Sawyer, gave Sawyer a brief smile, then tottered toward the main house. She was in for a rude awakening when she saw the renovations that Remy had done. Taking the cold and impersonal rooms of Marilee’s design, turning them into warm, elegant spaces.
Sawyer turned back to his father. He opened his mouth, ready to flay The Colonel’s flesh from his bones, but his father held up a hand to stop him before he could get started.
“Let me talk, just for a second,” The Colonel said. His back was as ramrod-straight as ever, but his tone seemed… softer. Just a little.
For a moment, Sawyer thought about following Marilee to the house, ignoring his father’s presence. After all, he had much bigger things to worry about today, like marrying the love of his life.
But some little part of him wanted to hear what his father would say. What defense could there possibly be?
“Fine,” he said, gently swaying with Sawyer in his arms.
“I thought I was doing what was best for you,” The Colonel said. “I thought… I thought that the girl—”
“She has a name,” Sawyer corrected sharply.
The Colonel cleared his throat. “Fine. Remy. I thought… you had a lot of potential, upward mobility in the Navy. You could go anywhere, do anything…”
“You’re saying you tried to pay her to get rid of my child… what, because it would have been in my best interests?” Sawyer asked, affronted.
“I never got to leave Catahoula,” The Colonel said, glancing off toward the fields. “I mean, I served, of course. But I was forced into an arranged marriage with your mother at nineteen. And then, before I could move her away, start over somewhere new… my father died, and I inherited everything. I didn’t have brothers to help me. It was just me, and whole lot of responsibility.”
“Doesn’t really explain why you did something so heinous.”
“I just… you’re my firstborn son. I wanted more for you than what I had. I wanted you to travel the world, live wherever you wanted. Have all the experiences I never got to have.”
“Why call me home from D.C., then?” Sawyer asked.
“Me and Marilee are leaving town soon. For a little while, at least. Going to Rome and Paris and Prague, all of that. I couldn’t very well leave the ranch here unattended. I assumed you three would decide to sell it.”
Sawyer watched his father for a moment. So proud, so stubborn. The same traits Sawyer himself often struggled with, only his father lacked the emotional capacity and self-acceptance to actually speak his feelings aloud.
It was a little sad, in a way.
He looked down at Shiloh in his arms, turning over a thousand thoughts in his mind.
“He looks so much like you did at that age,” The Colonel said, nodding at Shiloh.
Sawyer eyed his father. He wasn’t sure if it was the emotional nature of the day, or if he was just tired of fighting, but…
“I’m not offering to forgive or forget,” he said slowly. “But I will hold a truce, if you can be respectful of my son and my… wife.”
He almost choked a little on that last word. It was too new, felt strange as it rolled off his tongue.
“A truce is acceptable,” The Colonel said, his expression inscrutable.
“I expect you to apologize to Remy,” Sawyer said after a long beat. “A real apology. Not today, but… before you and Marilee leave for Europe.”
The Colonel stared him down for the longest moment, then inclined his head. “All right.”
“Sawyer!” Walker called, jogging around the corner of the house. Walker slowed, spying The Colonel. “What is he doing here?”
“We’re calling a truce for the time being,” Sawyer said, shaking his head.
The Colonel remained silent.
“All right…” Walker said, giving them both a skeptical look. “Guests are mostly here, starting to find their seats. I am supposed to grab Shiloh and bring you back to the groom’s suite in the bunk house.”
“Right,” Sawyer said, shaking his head. “I guess it’s time, huh?”
“That it is.”
With a nod to The Colonel, Sawyer followed Walker toward the bunk house. He ran into Shelby on the way and passed his sleepy son into her care. It was funny that they’d have to wake him up to take part in the ceremony.
Sawyer followed Walker to the little apartment he’d once occupied, which had been turned into the groom’s suite. Colt and Micah and Remy’s father Braxton were all inside, pinning flowers to their lapels and working on their bow ties.
Remy’d insisted on black tie for the groom’s party, and Sawyer had been happy enough to oblige her. He’d wear pretty much any kind of monkey suit, as long as it made her happy.
“There he is!” Micah said as Sawyer entered.
“Thought he’d have headed for the hills by now,” Colt joked.
“It would be a shame for me to kill him on his wedding day,” Micah said mildly.
“All right, all right,” Sawyer said, waving them down. “Where’s my jacket?”
He went through the motions, putting on his white dress shirt, w
hite cummerbund, and black bow tie and jacket.
“You look spiffy,” Walker said, dusting off one of Sawyer’s shoulders.
“The three of you look like triplets,” Braxton said, amused. “Complimenting your brother is something close to vanity.”
“Har har,” Sawyer said. He was starting to feel a little tense now, like his tie was going to choke him, his suit a little tight even though it was custom-made.
“Colt, get out the whiskey,” Micah said. “He’s looking a little green around the gills.”
Sawyer smiled as Colt produced four shot glasses and a bottle of Eagle Rare Bourbon. He poured out four measures and passed them around. They all held their glasses up, waiting for someone to make a toast.
“To living your life without regrets,” Walker said.
“And treating your wife like a queen,” Braxton said.
“To new beginnings,” Micah chipped in.
They all looked at Sawyer.
“Here’s to Remy probably knowing she can do a lot better than me, and marrying me anyway,” Sawyer said, unable to hide a grin.
“Bottoms up!” Colt crowed.
They all knocked back the whiskey, wincing and laughing.
“I’m gonna need a mint,” Sawyer said. “I don’t want Remy to think I got drunk before the wedding.”
“Here,” Walker said, handing him a box of Tic Tacs. “And I bet she and Shelby and Larkin are having their own toast. I saw Larkin carrying up four bottles of champagne.”
“It’s going to be a long night,” Micah muttered.
Someone knocked on the door, and Walker checked his watch.
“It’s time, guys.”
They put aside their shot glasses and filed out the door. As soon as they came around the side of the house, Sawyer’s heart started to pound.
Hundreds of chairs were spread out before the gazebo. Garlands of flowers swayed in the breeze, gauzy white tulle wrapped here and there to add a soft touch.
The pastor waited on the gazebo, the guests in their chairs. A bluegrass string quintet sat to one side, warming up their instruments.
This is really happening, he thought.
As Sawyer and his groomsmen walked up the aisle, people started to whisper quietly.
He took his place on the gazebo, his groomsmen to his right. A soft hush fell over the crowd as the music started up, a beautiful banjo-tinged version of a pretty pop song that Remy loved.
Sawyer drew a breath.
Any moment now, Remy would appear.
For the life of him, he didn’t want to wait one more second…
29
Remy had never felt quite so pampered in her life. She stood on a step stool, clutching an armful of her tulle skirt in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.
Larkin knelt at her feet, doing up the straps of Remy’s pale blue heels.
She’d been waxed and coiffed and made up, her blond hair flowing down her back in soft waves and her huge blue eyes rimmed with dark kohl.
Shelby tossed back her own glass of champagne. “Drink up, it will steady your nerves.”
Remy blushed.
“It seems silly, being nervous. I mean, I have wanted this for as long as I can remember,” she said.
“Except those few years when you wanted Sawyer to drop dead,” Shelby pointed out.
Remy pulled a face. “Yeah, except those.”
“You’re going to be okay,” her mother said from her seat across the room, sitting in a rocking chair with Shiloh in her lap. “River women don’t run when they’re scared. They only get more tenacious.”
Remy smiled.
“It’s just a big moment, a lot of pressure.”
Shelby grabbed the champagne bottle from the ice bucket and refilled her own glass. “Come on. Don’t make my drink alone. You can be festive for one day, Rem.”
“Actually…” Remy said, going red. “I kind of… can’t?”
Her mother sat up at attention. “Remy River! Don’t tell me that you managed to get knocked up again before your wedding!”
Remy wrinkled her nose. “A little?”
Larkin swooped in and grabbed the glass of champagne from Remy’s hand. “No such thing as a little bit pregnant.”
“Y’all can’t tell anyone. I was waiting till tonight to tell Sawyer.”
Shelby cackled. “Withholding vital information before the wedding, eh?”
“It’s supposed to be a nice surprise for him!” Remy said, starting to feel a little offended.
“Don’t worry about it,” Larkin said, downing Remy’s champagne. “Sawyer’s gonna be happy.”
“He’d better be,” Remy said. “Pretty sure I didn’t exactly get preggers on my own.”
“Remy!” her mother said, sounding scandalized.
“Oh, it’s funny,” Shelby said, waving a hand. “How far along do you think you are?”
“About six weeks, maybe.”
“Goodness,” Larkin said. “Good thing you’re having the wedding today. A few more weeks, and you won’t be able to fit in this skintight lace bodice thing.”
Larkin waved to indicate Remy’s dress.
“That’s true enough,” Remy sighed.
Someone knocked on the door and called that it was time.
Remy glanced around at her mother and sisters, biting her lip.
“It’s really… real,” she said.
“Oh, Remy, don’t you tear up now!” her mother said, rising to come over and give Remy a hug. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”
“Yeah, save that for the ceremony,” Shelby joked.
“Are you going ahead with Shiloh?” Remy asked her mother.
“Yep. I’ll wake him up on the way.”
Remy took a deep breath, summoning her courage.
It was time to make the most important vows of her entire life. To join herself with Sawyer, forever.
Where the whole day had felt slow, like time was dragging as she waited for the ceremony to begin, now everything seemed to speed up. She walked down the stairs, Shelby in front of her and Larkin behind.
She heard the music, a pretty song she loved. She stepped outside and walked down the steps. The white walkway was laid out before her.
Her heart started to pound wildly in her chest. Her father was there for support, offering her an elbow. She took it, giving him a grateful look.
The Romans sat on one side of her path, the Rivers on the other. Everyone rose as she approached, some people even applauding.
It was everything Remy could do to focus on not tripping on her dress. Her palms began to sweat, she could feel her knees shaking almost as badly as her hands.
And then… she looked up and saw Sawyer and Shiloh. Sawyer standing tall and proud, Shiloh sitting on the steps at Sawyer’s feet.
Her two men, the loves of her life, waiting there for her.
She forgot to be nervous. Forgot all the people watching. Forgot everything except the fact that she was going to get to stand with Sawyer.
She floated through the ceremony. The second she climbed the steps, Sawyer reached out and offered her his hand.
She took it, unable to hold back a shy grin.
It was funny, how new and strange this all felt, even though she and Sawyer had been through so much.
Shiloh immediately wormed his way to sit between them, and Sawyer had to gently move their son off the puffy tulle skirt.
The pastor started talking, but Remy hardly heard a word of it. She and Sawyer’d decided on simple, traditional vows. She managed to say, “I do” at the right time, which was a relief.
She even got the ring on his finger, feeling almost proud of herself.
Sawyer held her hand tight, promised to love, honor, and cherish her. He got the ring from Shiloh and slipped it on her finger.
The look on Sawyer’s face, the promises in his eyes…
Only then did she feel her eyes start to well up, her heart overflowing with all the love and emotion of the moment.
/>
And then, moments later, the pastor declared them husband and wife. Sawyer’s slid an arm around her, and pulled her close.
They kissed, hot and passionate, as everyone applauded and catcalled. Remy’s face went pink, but there was nothing anyone could say to her now…
After all, she was Mrs. Sawyer Roman now. She could kiss him all she liked!
They turned, Sawyer scooping up Shiloh, and proceeded down the aisle as everyone clapped and cheered.
The reception area was set up right behind the bunk house, a big wood dance floor, a band, plus a bar and a buffet line. The proximity made it easy for Remy and Sawyer to glide right into their first dance.
The first notes of “At Last” began to sound. Sawyer passed Shiloh off to Remy’s father, then swept Remy up in his arms.
She stared up at Sawyer, finding herself a little awestruck.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Roman?” Sawyer asked, his voice low and rough.
Remy grinned. “Pretty damned lucky.”
Sawyer laughed.
“Funny, I feel just the same.”
Remy slid her arms around his neck as they swayed to the music. She knew there would be a toast coming in just a few minutes, so she wanted to savor these few minutes alone with Sawyer.
“Sawyer,” she said slowly. “I need to tell you something.”
He cocked a brow. “It’s too late to back out now, darlin’. That knot is good and tied.”
Remy cracked up.
“No, not that.”
“Are you going to whisper dirty things in my ear, then?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“You gonna remind me which of your girl cousins is which? They all look alike,” he said, his eyes shining with humor.
“I can’t drink tonight,” she said, cutting to the point.
Sawyer’s brow creased. “You worried you’ll get too drunk and miss out on something?”
“No.”
She watched his face closely, waiting for him to get it. It took him a minute, but then…
“Fuck, Remy,” he uttered, his steps slowing. “Are you saying you’re…”
He trailed off, eyes gone stormy.
“I am. Six weeks,” she said.