November
The reception was held in a massive old barn that she and Hart had purchased and renovated into a high-class venue, and after this first event was over they were selling it to a florist who intended to rent it out for weddings and parties.
The full skirt of her satin ballgown swept dramatically over the wooden planks when she and Jesse shared their first dance as man and wife, and she felt like a real princess with her Prince Charming. She’d made the dress herself over a three-month period, with long, elegantly draping bishop sleeves, a tightly cinched waist, and an open back spanned with three strands of pearls—her own take on timeless, vintage glamor.
Feeling like Jesse’s wife was even better than feeling like a princess.
Jesse was devastatingly handsome in his tux, and as soon as the knot had been tied, he’d gone from a nervous wreck to the best mood she’d ever seen him in.
“You’re mine now,” he said as they left the church. “Like it or not.”
“I like it,” she’d answered.
Then he’d somehow gotten “lost” and they’d spent ten minutes kissing in the grocery store parking lot before he figured out where they were supposed to meet the photographer.
Her three bridesmaids, Birdie, Yoli and Eve, looked lovely in floor-length pale purple chiffon.
“Lilac greige,” the groom had suggested, when asked whether he had any opinion on wedding colors.
Aunt Liesl had made the wedding cake, a true labor of love from a chef who claimed to hate working with icing, and it was exquisite.
Clara and her father danced to “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” which she hoped was an obvious tribute to two and a half decades of parental excellence above and beyond the call of duty.
“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, you know,” she warned him as their dance ended, and was rewarded with one of his rare smiles.
After the father-daughter dance, Clara dabbed her eyes with a napkin as she watched Jesse and her mother glide around the dance floor to “God Only Knows.” Jesse had suggested the song after perusing a list he’d found online, Dr. Wilder had stated calmly that it was the Beach Boys’ best song, and that had settled it.
When Jesse returned to their table he put a comforting arm around his bride. “You’re crying,” he informed her, taking her napkin and blotting around her eyelashes very carefully.
“It’s happy crying.”
“I guess it’s all right, then.”
The rest of the wedding party was dancing now, and other couples were beginning to join in. Her parents were one of the first, and Clara loved how they gazed at each other.
Jesse followed her gaze, and asked, “You think we’ll be like that when we’re ancient?”
Seeing as how she was so blissfully happy her heart might explode? “Yep,” she said.
“But that’s how I’d look right now if I didn’t have you,” he said, nodding toward the wall where Birdie’s boyfriend stood alone, glowering at the dancers.
Clara laughed. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”
“Isn’t that Birdie’s dude? He looks mad.”
“Yes, that’s Nathan. He’s upset that Birdie’s dancing with the best man.”
“He doesn’t know Hart’s her cousin?”
“He knows. Birdie tried to talk to him about it, but he’s giving her the silent treatment.”
Jesse raised an eyebrow. “In front of her whole family? Risky move. Birdie seems okay, though.”
Clara looked back at the dance floor and grinned when she saw that the maid of honor and best man were both laughing so hard it was interfering with their dancing skills. “Yes, I think she’ll be fine.”
“Was it an accident that you threw the bouquet as far from her as possible?”
She tried to look innocent. “I think it was just one of those wedding miracles. It seemed to go straight to Eve.”
“That lady in leopard print would have grabbed it out of Eve’s hands if Portia hadn’t looked ready to deck her. She almost went for it.”
“The bouquet toss tends to bring out the worst in some people,” Clara said, amused by his bloodthirstiness.
“Almost brought something ugly out of Portia, that’s for sure. Oh,” he said suddenly. “Before I forget—there’s something I need to tell you…about our honeymoon.”
“Oh, no,” she exclaimed instantly. “What happened? Did they cancel our reservation?”
They were planning to stay at the Commodore Perry Estate in Austin and they’d reserved Mr. and Mrs. Perry’s Suite for three weeks. When they weren’t getting his condo ready to be listed for sale, they’d make day trips to Fredericksburg, the Alamo and Marble Falls, and still have plenty of time for fine dining (and Chipotle), a couple of movies, a play, and the last of the furniture shopping for their apartment. Three relaxing, romantic weeks alone with him, no jobs or friends to distract them, sounded like pure heaven, and the thought of canceling the whole trip filled her with dismay.
“It’s more of a confession,” he admitted, pulling her snug against his side.
She was intrigued. “Okay, tell me.”
“I know I said I booked three weeks, but I didn’t. I booked two.”
She had a feeling now that this wasn’t really going to be bad news. “Why?”
“I thought we could spend the third week somewhere else.”
He glanced sideways at her, and she had to resist the urge to pinch him. “Where? Spit it out, Jesse!”
But instead of relieving her suspense, he gave her a slow, lingering kiss, and she felt the happiness well up in her again.
“Crybaby,” he murmured, and he lifted her into his lap before going back to work with the napkin around her eye makeup. “I’ll always be here to dry your tears, my sad little supermodel.”
She laughed as she put her arms around his shoulders. He might make fun of her, but his own eyes had been suspiciously shiny when he’d first glimpsed her in her wedding dress. “Enough stalling. Where are we spending the third week?”
“Well, see, I own this cabin,” he began, with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
She gasped. “You what? ”
“In the Davis Mountains…”