THE CHATSWORTH GARDENS were glorious on the first Saturday in June. The immediate Pemberton family was seated in white chairs, waiting for the bride, while butterflies and bees flitted around them, sipping on the showy blossoms.
Charlotte stood just inside the garden doors, her hand firm on Stephen’s sleeve. Stephen, who had nearly cried when she’d asked him to give her away. Bella and Jacob’s father, Ian, were serving as witnesses. The wedding was small, intimate and certainly not what was expected for a Pemberton. But it was exactly what she wanted. The people she loved most in the place she loved most.
“Are you ready?” Stephen asked. “I just got the signal from the officiant.”
She nodded. She was so ready. It had been only two weeks from proposal to ceremony and even then it had seemed too long. Her dress was deceptively simple, a sleeveless white A-line with a tiny train and detail just on the shoulders. It was an Aurora design, of course, and her favorite from last year’s bridal collection straight off the rack. Her bouquet was cut from the garden, the last of the lilacs and best of the roses. A simple camellia was in her hair. There’d be a celebration following the service, and then she and Jacob would be heading to Tenerife for their honeymoon. That had been her idea, since she’d caused him to miss his first trip.
“Thank you, Stephen. For this. For interfering.” She smiled up at him. “You got it right this time.”
“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
She didn’t quite believe him. Stephen was lonely, and they all knew it. But he’d have to solve that in his own time.
“Shall we?”
The doors were opened and Stephen and Charlotte stepped outside into the bright sunlight. Jacob was waiting at the rose trellis, his gray eyes shining and a smile lighting up his face as she appeared. When they reached him and Stephen gave Jacob her hand, she realized hers was trembling. His was not. He was, and always would be, her rock.
She wanted to kiss him so much right now, but first there were vows to be said.
“I, Jacob Andrew Wolfe, take you, Charlotte Louise Pemberton...”
She would not cry. She wouldn’t.
“...to have and to hold, from this day forward...”
Someone sniffled. Charlotte looked into Jacob’s eyes and heard the words, but more, she felt them, deep inside, where she would cherish them always.
“I, Charlotte Louise Pemberton, take you, Jacob Andrew Wolfe...”
Her voice shook as she repeated the words. After this moment, he would be hers, and she would be his. Forever. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten so lucky, but she promised herself to be thankful every day.
“...till death us do part.”
They exchanged rings...and then the moment she’d been waiting for...the kiss to seal the deal. And just when she was sure her heart couldn’t get any fuller, he placed his palm on her stomach before leaning in to touch her lips with his. “I love you,” he whispered. “Both of you.”
“We love you, too,” she replied, and tilted her face up for her first kiss as his wife.
* * *