8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Sawyer
I vy floats down the aisle toward me and I can’t hold back my emotions. The tears in my eyes spill over and I wipe them away.
Blaire and her team overhauled the distillery’s old, empty barn, and they outdid themselves. I know Ivy would have married me in a dirty alley if it meant becoming my wife, but giving her a dream wedding fills me with pride. Wooden benches line both sides of the aisle, our family and friends—the people closest and most important to us—fill the rows. Fairy lights are strung from the rafters, and the walls are stacked with empty whiskey barrels. I stand under a simple white arch covered in greenery and more tiny lights.
My beautiful girl takes confident steps in my direction, on the arm of Reid. Since both of her parents have passed, she wanted my father to give her away, but his mobility issues would have made that challenging. Reid was happy to step up. He and Ivy have a special relationship, and while I wasn’t happy about it at first, it’s one I am thankful for now. Her dress fits like a glove. The sleeves are made of skin-tone mesh, sprinkled with delicate vines of lace that curve and wrap around her arms and down to her dainty wrists. The bodice matches, and lace dips low between her small breasts, connecting to a tight satin skirt that flares out slightly to the floor. The back is the same flesh-tone mesh, with beaded pearls down her spine and small train. The gorgeous raven-black hair that I’m obsessed with is worn down to her waist, just how I’d hoped she’d wear it. She looks like a fucking dream.
Reid walks her directly to the altar before hugging her and placing her little hand in mine. Her beautiful emerald eyes are glassy, but her smile is huge. God, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and she’s all mine. It took ten long years of emptiness, but my baby found her way back to me, just like I knew she would.
“Hi, butterfly.”
She laughs lightly, just for me to hear.
“Hi.”
The ceremony goes by in a whirlwind, my eyes never leaving my girl. When the officiant tells me I can kiss my bride, I don’t hesitate. Grabbing Ivy around the waist, I pull her tight, her little body flush against mine. I comb my fingers through her hair and grasp the back of her head with one of my hands, cupping her cheek with the other, and dip her slightly. I kiss her deeply, putting every bit of emotion behind it. I kiss her like she’s the only girl in the world I’ve ever loved, like she’s the center of my fucking world. Because she always has been. I pull back slightly, straightening her and resting my forehead against hers, sharing air.
“Hi, wife.”
“Hi, husband.”
“It is my great honor and privilege to introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer Hayes!”
The crowd erupts in cheers and applause, but it’s all silence around me as I stare at the only woman I’ve ever known and loved all of.
My Ivy.
My wife.