Ward was okay with her walking alone or with Nick, but said his brother would be his best man, and he didn’t care what Mag thought.
I planned for Brina to go down the aisle alone followed by Ward’s brother escorting my sister, but Mom thought the pictures would look lopsided with an uneven number of attendants.
So Nick and my sister go first, followed by Mag and Brina.
I come down the aisle with Dad. The frosted glass window over Fullerton Hall is so beautiful this room doesn’t need decorations, but Mom’s florist did a great job.
Colorful bursts of flower garlands cover all the railings. An arch behind the priest drips flower arrangements that smell as beautiful as they look.
Ward turns to see me.
He smiles at me the whole way, drinking me in, and with all these eyes on me, his grin keeps me anchored to the room. It’s the one thing that stops me from freaking out and becoming a runaway bride.
“You look like Princess Di in that dress,” Dad whispers as he places my hand in Ward’s. “Take care of her for me.”
I can’t decide which one’s a bigger compliment as Ward gives my father a solemn nod.
“She’s more bomb than any princess ever crowned,” Ward whispers with an edge in his voice that says he believes it.
God, I love this man.
The ceremony goes by in a warm and fuzzy blur, drifting vows and forevers, a priest who makes our bond already written in the stars official.
Ward’s hand is so tight I can barely get the ring on his finger as he grins at me sheepishly. And I die again, realizing just how much this bear of a man adores me.
“You’re okay,” I whisper. “Relax.”
Then it’s his turn to slide the diamond-covered band over my finger.
I miss the fateful words, “You may now kiss the bride.”
But there’s no missing the hunger his mouth has when it collides with mine in one long inferno.
He deepens the kiss with a growl I can feel amid the wild cheers and applause.
My arms close around his neck.
His arms hug my waist, and then my feet are off the floor and I’m floating.
Literally.
I think as long as we live, he’ll teach me new ways a woman can float with love, desire, and so much passion I might need hooks to stay on the ground.
“Hey, maybe wait until tonight!” Nick yells from the side.
A stunningly well-dressed Reese condemns him with a look, making me wonder what their deal is.
Laughter bleeds into the music beating through the room.
The hall clears out with people heading to the hotel for the reception. Mom directs the photographers like they’re trained hunting hawks for what seems like forever.
Finally, Brina and I slip back to my dressing room where this ridiculously heavy beaded outfit gets removed, and I replace my heels with sandals and a sweet smile of relief.
We walk to the reception together, my head on his chest, his arm slung around me like it’s the only thing that’ll ever matter.
And maybe it is.
“You were right. This balcony is beautiful. You can see the whole skyline and even Lake Michigan from here. This was the perfect place.”
“I’m glad we did the ceremony at the museum. No place better,” he says with a glowing look.
It’s also the place where we were reborn, when Beatrice convinced me to go find him when all seemed lost.
Again, the evening blurs.
I’m dancing with Dad one second, and then I’m in the middle of my first dance with my husband(!), our feet clumsily forgetting to sway with the music. Kinda hard when our lips have no chill, growing impatient every minute they’re apart.
Even the beautiful song my cousin Milah sings for us becomes one more awesome moment crammed into a breathtaking day, even though my hands burn in screaming applause and she wipes a rare tear from her eye with congratulations.
By the time it’s over, people swirl around us on the balcony like restless crows.
While dinner’s being plated out, I drag Ward around to each table to thank our guests personally.
Eventually, we reach the Whinthropes’ table.
“Thank you for coming,” I say.
“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Ross Winthrope says. He looks at Ward. “She’s a beauty. Keep her happy, and let her keep you honest.”
“Glad as hell we could work things out, and it’s all thanks to her,” he tells Winthrope, his arm around me tightening.
“Aww. I love you,” I whisper, pecking irresistibly at his cheek.
“Love you too, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead.
“Paige, I don’t know what’s more beautiful—the ceremony or the reception. The lake outlined by the night skyline is hard to beat.” Mrs. Winthrope taps her husband on the shoulder and points into the distance. “Look, you can even see the new hotel site from here.”
Ross follows his wife’s finger with his eyes. “You can. How about that. Once again, I’m thankful cooler heads prevailed.”