I’ve never been happier.
And I don’t think the priest has ever seen anyone laugh through most of their wedding vows like Blake and I did.
It’s hard not to.
We met by total accident in disaster, and it’s like uncertainty and mishaps follow us around everywhere.
All the more reason to be certain of each other.
And there’s not a moment’s doubt in our eyes, our voices, when the time comes.
We lace our fingers and say “I do.”
It should be our moment, something sacred and private.
But somehow, we belong to the entire town, too. I swear I can feel Heart’s Edge nodding its approval with the mountains, the trees, the gorgeous flowers tilting our way as all the guests break into laughter and applause.
Soon, we’re whisked away to dance with everyone but each other, then thrust back together for that one special slow dance. I cling to my new husband—husband, how crazy is that?—breathlessly for dear life. Blake just smiles so easy, like he was born for this, and maybe he was.
Because we’re each other’s refuge in the whirlwind.
Yesterday, today, and forever.
Before long, we get pulled apart again after dancing a few rounds.
There’s a whirlwind of people. Everybody from Felicity to Ember to Warren and Haley’s little niece, Tara, who’s visiting this summer. Someone pulls on Blake’s arm. He looks up and grins.
“Best damn wedding shindig I’ve ever seen, brother,” Holt Silverton says, his whiskey colored eyes flashing. “Here’s one more gift for the road.”
Uh-oh.
For a second, Blake’s face goes blank. I wonder if they’re about to get into their usual scrap over their mom’s inheritance. Then Holt holds up a big bubbly bottle of very expensive-looking champagne.
“Only if I’m raising a toast to you, bro. Without you and the cavalry, no way would I be standing here a married man, grinning like a fool.” He takes the bottle and slaps Holt’s shoulder.
Thank God. Relief steams out of my lungs, and I smile, feeling this giddy serenity coming over everything.
“We gonna be seeing you again after the honeymoon, or are you jetting off to Chicago or New York?”
Holt gives back a near-identical lopsided grin that makes me laugh.
“Actually, I’ve been doing some thinking. With the building contracts I’ve got lined up, you know…I might just settle into Heart’s Edge for a little while. Just traded up my little rambler Airbnb rental for nicer digs at the Charming Inn till I can find something more permanent.”
Blake nods, smiles again, and starts to tug me forward by the hand again before stopping. He looks back over his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back,” he tells Holt.
“Good to be back, Blake.”
Just like that, we fade into the crowd, pressing hands with friends and acquaintances and maybe even a few low-key journalists. All the drama going down here the last couple years is close to putting this little town on the map.
Then someone says they heard that catchy song on the radio, and they beg me to sing it, and suddenly I’m standing under my own wedding bower with a mic thrust in my hand. Half singing, half laughing, I give the people what they want while they dance together and talk and throw wild humor back and forth.
The meaning hits me just as deeply. It’s a struggle not to cry every time I catch Blake’s eyes at my side, staring gently, while I sing about a gold-hearted desperado I just freaking married.
It’s more of a party than a wedding, honestly.
I’m okay with that.
I’m happy with the rest of my life starting like a celebration.
But it’s maybe just a little much when we get piled into the back of the fire truck.
Then driven through town at the head of a parade of cars, the siren going at its lowest volume and the fire truck trailing cans, ribbons, and big bunches of flowers behind us. People appear from the stores and houses along main street to wave and whoop and yell our names.
Blake looks so embarrassed, and it’s adorable.
I lean my shoulder to his, snug in my empress-waisted white wedding dress with its scalloped bodice and trailing train that makes me feel like a princess.
“Get used to the attention,” I whisper. “You may not want to be everyone’s hero, but you are.”
“I’m no hero,” he growls, his face flushing as he looks down at me, but he grudgingly waves to the crowd. “I’m just your husband.”
Husband.
God, I love it.
I lean up to kiss his cheek, curling my arm in his.
“You’re my husband now, Blake,” I say, and squeeze his arm, lacing our fingers together, our wedding rings touching, simple gold bands warmed by body heat and endless love. “But you’ve always been my hero…and you always will be.”
* * *