by Emma James
The guests now make mixed noises of surprise and delight, which can only mean my daughter has revealed herself and will wait for her cue from Juan.
I turn my attention back to the aisle where the flower petals are no longer reflecting the patterned design Juan’s team went to great lengths to create.
My heart does a perfect Cirque Du Soleil somersault, while a lump forces itself down my throat at the sight of my almost eight-year-old daughter.
Christ! I’ve got the most beautiful kids.
Harper looks gorgeous in her flower girl dress. She’s growing up too quickly. I feel like time is rushing by. I want to keep her this age for a lot longer. So full of innocence.
I’m already so protective of my little girl. If ever any guys come near her when she’s a teenager, so help them. I don’t care who they are. She is off-limits until I can handle the idea.
Harper gives me the biggest toothy-grin before she starts her carefully paced walk while she blows bubbles. She knows to watch out for the sprinkler hole that’s hidden in the grass. She only needs to look at the chair with the pink flower attached to know where to be careful.
Bowie is shadowing my daughter. Apart from him not wearing his suit jacket, nothing seems amiss with him. Hazard mentioned Whisper was late because of something to do with Bowie. The kid looks fine. Everybody looks fine so far that has walked down the aisle.
Flora pops up, taking a few snaps as they near where she sits.
I can see my mom getting ready to do the same thing.
Harper stops walking and poses with her bubble blower held up as though she is about to blow more bubbles, but something has caught her attention. She cocks her head to the side as she stares at a spot opposite me, near Phoenix.
“What’s Pumpkin looking at?” Mathias wonders out loud.
Annie has wheeled Theodore into place, and that’s who she looks like she’s staring at, but somehow, I don’t think Theodore would capture her attention this way.
Phoenix waves her arms to get Harper’s attention, but there’s no recognition from my daughter.
I’m about to move toward Harper when Bowie takes the initiative and murmurs in her ear.
And that’s when an eight-year-old boy morphs into a teenager right before my eyes.
Harper snaps out of her trance and focuses on Bowie, but it’s the look he’s giving her that I’m more interested in.
What the hell?
“Haaarper...”
Just as Nana Lily is about to take my photo, I hear my name called. It’s like it is floating on the breeze and into my head.
“Haaaarper, pleeease!”
Go away! I think hard, hoping to be telegraphically heard by him. I have an important job to be doing right now.
But the pull is too strong. It’s like a force is instructing my mind to turn my head.
And then I see the boy.
It’s the first time I have heard him say more than my name in all the times I’ve seen him.
The boy is standing near Phoenix, but she doesn’t know that because she can’t see him. I’m the only one who can.
It’s the same boy I’ve been seeing for a few months now around the schoolyard, or out while I’m with my mom shopping and sometimes around the house.
He has on black jeans and a black Ghostbusters T-shirt with the white ghost on the front. My mother loves family movie night, so I know he’s wearing the T-shirt to be funny.
He’s a pretty boy like Bowie, not that I would tell Bowie that. Where Bowie is blond, this boy has dark brown hair, but they both have beautiful eyes. He looks as though he is a few years older than Bowie.
I know he’s not a real boy. He isn’t solid. He’s a spirit or a ghost or something like that.
I do understand it’s not normal to be able to see him, but I’ve read enough Nancy Drew ghost stories to know his presence means something. He’s picked me, so I just have to wait to find out why. He’s a friendly ghost. He’s harmless like Casper.
I never feel scared of him. Sometimes he is the reason I trip over because he can be right in front of me, and I stumble trying to dodge him. I don’t like it when I go right through him. It feels cold and strange.
The boy glides closer, raising his right arm. He’s pointing. There is worry on his face. “Harper, you need to watch out for—”
Then he flickers in and out, and he’s gone. He’s not strong enough to stay. He always fades away, but today is the longest he’s visited and the most he’s ever said.
I look around me, but I can’t see what could be worrying him. Watch out for what?
I focus back on where he disappeared.
I can hear Bowie from down a tunnel talking to me, but I’m unable to focus on his words.
There are so many questions I want to ask the boy: What is your name? What do you want from me? There has to be a reason the boy popped up at Mom and Dad’s wedding.
I’ve asked Presley a few times if he can see the dark-haired boy, but he always replies with “What boy?” and he doesn’t even look in the right direction.
We’re twins, why can’t he see him too?
Until I can work out why the pretty boy wants me to see him, he will stay my big secret.
“Harper, are you okay?!” Bowie’s voice is right in my ear.
I see Phoenix waving her hands at me out of the corner of my eye, and I realize I’m standing here staring at nothing, looking like a weirdo in front of Dad and Uncle Matty and everybody else.
“Princess? You stuck inside that pretty head of yours?”
“Huh?” I swing around and glare at Bowie.
“You standing here waiting to catch flies with that mouth of yours wide open?”
Now I know how Hermione Granger feels when Ron Weasley is saying stupid boy things to her. Sometimes boys can be so annoying!
“What?” And then I realize I’ve got the bubble blower still held in front of me as if I froze when I saw the pretty boy.
My focus moves over Bowie’s shoulders. I can see enough eyes on me to make my face heat up, so I turn around on a huff and take off resuming my job of blowing bubbles, like none of this ever happened.
“Princess, watch out for the hidden—”
Poo!
I hear Mathias suck in a breath and hold it as Bowie lunges forward, one arm curling around my daughter’s tiny waist, tugging her back toward him, lifting her effortlessly at the same time moving her away from the hole.
Good job.
The look of surprise leaves my daughter’s face to be replaced by a grumpy look as she turns in his arms, pressing her palms against his chest, dropping her tube of bubbles, forcing her escort to take a step backward and release her.
“O-oh.” Hazard chuckles.
“I was not going to fall,” she whisper-hisses at Bowie to the amusement of the onlookers. One little fisted hand now rests on her hip while she gives him a scowl, which can only look cu—
“Too damn cute!” I hear Blueblood laugh.
My daughter’s putting her sass on display. I know she’s only doing it because she gets mad at herself for being so clumsy; therefore, she gets defensive, especially when all eyes are on her.
“Just doing my job, Princess.” Bowie shrugs, trying unsuccessfully to hide his cocky grin by giving her a half bow.
“Oh, boy,” Mathias murmurs beside me, “the kid’s flirt is locked down already.”
What? Bowie’s not flirting. He’s eight!
“By all means, carry on, you’re holding up the bride, but just watch your step, Princess.”
Shit! The kid might be flirting.
Nooo! Eight-year-olds don’t flirt. Do they?
“I know there’s a hole here, I was distracted,” Harper explains loudly, trying to reason out she wasn’t forgetful.
“Well, I’m right behind you if you get distracted again, ready, and willing to save you.”
The kid’s voice hasn’t even broken, and he’s ready-and-willing?
What.
The.
Hell?!
How old is this kid? Eight or eighteen?
“Don’t worry about Bowie, Edge,” my brother whispers to me, “that kid is miles ahead of his years. He has been like that since he arrived on your street. The boy had to grow up faster than most kids. He’s got that protective nature installed in him already. He looks out for his mother, and now he’s just doing what you asked of him.” Mathias is trying to make a strong case for Bowie.
“On the one hand he’s doing a great job, but on the other... I’ve got nothing to worry about; the kid’s only eight years old. Right?”
Mathias shrugs. “I think Harper has enough ‘tude to keep him in line.”
And that’s his answer?
Harper swings back around, her face red, takes in a deep breath, and plasters a pretty smile back on her face before bending down, picking up the tube of bubble-making liquid, then resumes walking, blowing bubbles into the air like nobody has been watching the two of them.
Maybe she does have the ‘tude bit covered.
That’s my girl!
I want to go to her and scoop her up, kiss her, and tell her “job well done,” but instead, I give her a wink when she gets close enough.
I snap a candid pic of her before she moves to stand near Phoenix.
Harper gives Presley a dramatic roll of her eyes when Bowie’s moving away to sit in his seat.
When Harper turns away, Presley smiles to himself like he knows a secret. I’m going to have to pick Presley’s brain about—
The music changes, and Raine starts to sing the particular song he wrote for my bride’s walk down the aisle.
And then I see her.
I deliberately pretend my legs buckle while I stumble backward, clutching at my heart. Mathias and the other groomsmen come rushing to my aid, comically pretending to prop me up while our friends and family laugh at our antics.
Christ! I knew Whisper would look gorgeous—that was a given—but I have no words for this beautiful soul who somehow ended up with me.
My bride’s dress is phenomenal. Her hair styled in a way that transforms Whisper into a woman of ethereal beauty. She’s a goddess.
So many words are flooding my mind, and none of them seem fit to describe how beautiful my woman is. She stands proudly before everybody gathered here today, having come so far—considering the first twenty-one years of her life. Once afraid to leave Connard, now she soaks life up.
Whisper laughs, fanning herself with her free hand, the bouquet secured with the other. I gather that means she likes what she sees.
For a second, I think I catch a glimpse of white on her hand, but then the men walk back to their positions, each giving me a good-natured slap on the back.
Jesus Christ, what did I do to get so freakin’ lucky? I’ve asked myself this question so many times in the past eight years.
She.
Is.
My.
Everything.
Whisper performs a slow hip swaying twirl for me, really enjoying her time in the spotlight.
I mouth “beautiful” and put my hand to my heart and pat it.
Her left hand comes up to smother her giggle, palm twisted out.
And then I see it.
What the fuck?
My heart stutters.
And then I see her elbow.
What the fuck?!
She sees it written all over my face and proceeds to give me a reassuring smile and the thumbs-up signal.
Christ! Has everybody been told to give me the thumbs-up sign today? Is she hurt? That isn’t a thumbs-up in my book.
Boxer and Lincoln stand either side of her. Whisper links her arms with them and starts her walk to meet me.
I drag my eyes off her for just a second to land on Boxer, who knows I’m upset she’s hurt. He silently reminds me of where I am and shakes his head ever so slightly.
“Don’t drop the ball,” my brother mutters next to me out the corner of his mouth, “she’s got a story to tell you, but now she just wants to be a bride, and you gotta give it to her without going all caveman on her. You got me?”
While my eyes stay trained on my bride and my smile is all anybody can see, I let out a muffled growl for Mathias’ ears only. I hear him. Now is not the time, but my inner caveman wants to know if she’s hurt anywhere else and why.
I’m okay, she mouths, looking nothing but happy to see me.
“I love you” Whisper’s lips move when she is just a few paces from me. She knows just what to say to distract me.
“Edge, it’s time to get hitched.” My brother nudges my elbow.
Hell yeah!
I didn’t have long enough to absorb and appreciate the beautiful job Juan, his team of workers, and Birdie’s input collectively had done of the ceremony area, as Boxer and Evelyn escort me down the ramp.
The white chairs lining either side of the aisle have white flowers attached to them, with Tiffany-blue colored chiffon draped around them and tied at the back.
My wish was it would look like a gift-wrapped present except the whole ceremony was the present.
I would have loved to see the design on the grass before the bridesmaids, and the children had walked down, but I know Faith’s company will have that covered with photos and video. Now it looks like pretty petal confetti.
Edge is waiting for me down the end in front of the wooden framed canopy wrapped in white floating-about-on-the-breeze gossamer, with other delicate decorations helping to transform our outside, ocean backdrop ceremony into the most romantic setting.
It’s a perfect July summer day. Hudson Raine’s beautiful voice overrides the sound of the waves. I can’t believe he is here today for our special day.
A sea of pretty umbrellas with our names on them lower and vanish. There are so many more details Juan has added I can’t take in because my man holds me transfixed.
Edge is true to his word, not sparing even a glance as we walk down the ramp.
I have tunnel vision for Edge and how handsome and perfect he looks. I see nobody else around me, but the man who stopped at nothing to have me rescued and fell in love with me. The man that gifted my body with the most beautiful children and gave me the life I thought was impossible.
I have my prince.
I have my fairytale ending.
“Love, I’m so bloody proud of you,” Boxer chokes out while looking straight ahead as we stand behind the screen, ready to take our turn walking down the aisle. “Evelyn and I love you so much, you do us proud every day, and I just want to remind you how bloody brilliant you are. Your soul is beautiful, kind, and forgiving. I’m forever thankful the universe decided to put Miss Catherine in your path.”
It’s not often Boxer gets emotional. Tears don’t come easily to both of us, but now I’m rapidly blinking, trying to keep the dam from bursting. My life was a living nightmare before I met Miss Catherine and Boxer, and now it is a life I cherish with all my heart. I didn’t know what a healthy, loving family environment was.
Now, I love hard, and I am so loved.
“Dad... you...” I try hard to finish that sentence, but I know if I keep going, I will cry.
“I know, love.” Boxer kisses my forehead while Evelyn, who has been quietly standing beside me, dabs some tears away from her cheek.
Lincoln strolls up next to Evelyn and leans forward conspiratorially. “Took your sweet time, honey, but the wait was sure worth the view.” He whistles low. “Glad you finally showed up in one piece. If you’d been any longer, Edge would have been riding a black and chrome stallion to get to you. He’s been a little antsy.” Lincoln kisses my head. “If I wasn’t gay, you do know Edge would be fighting me for your hand.”
“Whisper, I’ll get in my seat.” Evelyn kisses my cheek before slipping away.
“Well, best friend, I’m afraid all I can offer you today is a walk down the aisle.” Evelyn and Lincoln have a shared part in my wedding day. “I may not have wanted to be a bridesmaid, but I wh
oleheartedly signed up for hooking elbows to assist in giving you away officially to the caveman waiting for you. Do we need to pick up the pace for the caveman, or are we still on for a leisurely meander while I limp along next to you, and I’ll throw in a queen’s wave for the guests?”
“Son...” Boxer groans.
“What? Just trying to calm all the nerves—mine especially, after this one told me of her scrapes. Great save on the dress, honey.”
My loyal, gentle giant who is only a few years older than me still looks like he’s in his early twenties, with his mop of boyish blond hair instead of early thirties. He’s got a permanent limp from when he was attacked and then left to die eight years ago. A constant reminder of how close I had come to losing both Lincoln and Boxer.
Juan appears, whispering into his headset then blows me a two-handed kiss before waving his hand in front of his body, signaling us to begin our walk.
The three of us walk out from behind the screen, and I hesitate, watching Edge taking a picture of our daughter. He’s such an amazing father.
Our eyes connect. There is the relief I’m walking the aisle, and the unconditional-no-matter-what love shining through them, mixed with humor from all the men as they play up for me.
Then I ruin it with my movements, causing barely veiled distress to my man as his eyes lock onto my hands. It is going to be a fifty-fifty chance he will be able to contain the worry that is bubbling about in his mind.
The closer I walk to Edge, the more I know he is not going to let it slide. I can see the battle waging a silent war on his mind.
Mouthing words which only keep him temporarily in his place, appeasing the alpha inside him wanting to burst forward to check me over and tackle the questions he needs answers to ASAP.
I make it to Edge, where Boxer and Linc hand me over to my handsome man, even though I hear nothing of their responses to Theodore’s words.
I feel them slip away from me, my hands loosely holding the bouquet beside the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on while Theodore our celebrant says words I’ve heard in rehearsal, but are now white noise to my ears.