31. Charlie
Charlie
I wake before the alarm, sunlight filtering through the curtains. Beside me, Tess sleeps deeply, her breathing slow and even. I watch her for a moment, this gorgeous woman, the mother of my children. Today, she becomes my wife.
I slide carefully from the bed, wincing as I drop my phone on the floor. Tess stirs briefly but doesn't wake. I’m relieved because I know she was up in the middle of the night with the twins.
In the kitchen, I scoop coffee beans into the grinder, then think better of it. The noise might wake Tess, and she needs her rest. The caterers and florists will be here soon enough—let her have these last quiet moments of sleep.
Instead, I fill the kettle for tea and step barefoot onto the back deck.
The wood feels cool and slightly damp under my feet, wet with morning dew.
The lawn stretches before me, lush and green in the early summer light.
By afternoon, it will be transformed with white folding chairs, an ungodly number of flowers—mostly peonies—and a tent strung with lights.
I can see the field where Oliver grazes peacefully, his coat gleaming in the morning sun. Having him here has made Tess so happy. I still remember her face the day Madison Hayes delivered him—tears streaming down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to his.
The kettle begins to whistle inside, calling me back to the kitchen. I fill my mug with the hot water, adding the Earl Grey tea bag and three teaspoons of sugar.
My phone buzzes on the counter. A text from Stuart: I’m bringing the Macallan. Need anything else today?
I smile. Trust Stuart to prioritize the alcohol. I type back: Thanks! That about covers it.
I sip my tea, thinking about my conversation with my dad last night. It was brief but warm—another change I'm still getting used to. Since our heart-to-heart at Meridian last year, something has shifted between us. Not overly dramatic, but noticeable.
"You've done well, son," he said before hanging up. "This home, Tess, the babies. You're building something real."
Coming from Bill Astor, that's practically a Hallmark card.
When I asked him to be my best man after I proposed to Tess, it was obvious he was holding back tears—I’ve never seen him so emotional.
Tess comes into the kitchen and I turn the kettle on again for her tea. I grab her favorite mug and drop a mint tea bag in.
"Morning," I say, taking her in my arms. “I hope those babies let you get enough sleep last night. You’ve got an important job to do today.”
Tess laughs. "I have a lot of important jobs to do today. Which one are you referring to?"
"Making me the happiest man alive." I kiss her temple, breathing in the delicious scent of her skin.
"Mmm, I think I can manage that." She leans into me. "We’ve got vendors arriving at nine."
"And my mother will be here by ten because, and I quote, 'Someone needs to supervise the tent placement.'"
Tess groans. "Your mother is going to drive the wedding planner to tears."
"Probably," I agree. "But she means well. And she's bringing the champagne for the getting-ready mimosas she insists are traditional."
"In that case, she's forgiven." Tess takes a sip of her tea, then looks up at me with those clear hazel eyes. "Are you ready for this?"
I consider the question. A year ago, I was terrified of fatherhood, of commitment, of all the ways I might fail. Now, standing in our home with Tess in my arms and our children still asleep in their cribs, I feel something I never expected: certainty.
"I've never been more ready for anything in my life," I tell her, and the truth of it settles into my bones.
As I’m taking a shower a little later, my mind drifts back to that crisp morning in early spring.
I'd been up since 4 a.m., too wired to sleep, the small velvet box burning a hole in my pocket.
I remember checking my watch repeatedly, calculating how much time I had before Tess had her morning riding lesson.
The diamond ring had been my grandmother's—a three-carat oval in a vintage platinum setting that my mother had kept in her safe for years.
"She would have wanted Tess to have it," Mom told me when she pressed the box into my hand a month ago.
I'd spent the days since then trying to figure out the perfect way to propose.
Nothing felt right until Jane suggested involving Oliver.
"It’s the perfect way to do it," Jane had said. "And Tess will never suspect..."
I entered the barn and Oliver watched me from his stall, ears pricked forward curiously.
His bridle hung on a hook inside the tack room, the leather supple and well-cared for.
I took it down, turning it over in my hands, trying to decide exactly where to attach the ring.
It needed to be secure enough not to fall off but obvious enough that Tess would notice it right away.
My fingers felt clumsy with nervousness, fumbling with the buckles and straps.
I finally settled on threading the ring onto the cheekpiece. After fumbling with it for a bit, I finally got it in place. It looked both beautiful and slightly ridiculous there.
I was a little bit worried that she wouldn’t see it, but that was silly—a ring with a diamond that large is pretty obvious.
My hands were sweating despite the chill as I carefully hung the bridle back on its hook. Too late to reconsider now. I could hear the crunch of Tess’s boots on the gravel outside.
I quickly checked my reflection in the small mirror hung by the tack room door. My hair was a disaster from running my hands through it all morning. I tried to smooth it down, then gave up. Tess had seen me looking far worse.
The barn door opened, sending a shaft of golden spring light across the floor. Tess stood silhouetted against the brightness for a moment, her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, her riding clothes hugging her curves.
"Didn’t expect to see you out here," she said, smiling as she spotted me. She crossed the concrete floor and rose on tiptoe to kiss me. She handed me the baby monitor, indicating that I was now on baby duty. "And you were up early. Couldn't sleep?"
"Something like that," I managed, hoping she couldn't feel my heart hammering against my ribs.
Oliver nickered from his stall, demanding Tess's attention. She moved away from me to greet him, scratching under his chin as he stretched his neck over the stall door.
"Good morning, handsome," she cooed. "Ready for our ride?"
I hung back, watching as she moved through her familiar routine.
She slipped into Oliver's stall with a curry comb, running it over his coat in practiced circles.
He leaned into her touch, eyes half-closed in pleasure.
I remembered the first time I watched her with him, how struck I'd been by the obvious bond between them.
"It's gorgeous out today," Tess was saying, unaware of my internal panic.
"Yeah," I said simply, my voice oddly strained. She glanced at me curiously but didn't comment.
She finished grooming Oliver and reached for his saddle pad, then the saddle, which I helped her lift into place. I fumbled with the girth strap, causing Tess to gently nudge me aside.
"You okay there, cowboy? You’re hands are shaking a little this morning. Too much coffee?"
"I'm good," I lied. "Just, um, didn't sleep well."
She gave me another curious look before reaching for the bridle. I held my breath as she lifted it from the hook. That's when the sunlight streaming through the barn windows caught the diamond, sending prisms of light dancing across the wall.
She froze, her hands stilling on the leather straps. "Charlie..." she whispered, her eyes fixed on the ring. "What is this?"
I stepped forward, my heart a frantic drum in my chest, and carefully unthreaded the ring from the bridle. It felt cool in my palm as I dropped to one knee on the barn floor.
"Tess." My voice cracked, and I had to clear my throat before continuing. "You've shown me what true happiness feels like and I want that for forever. Will you marry me?"
Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with surprise. Tears began to well in her eyes, and a slow, beautiful smile spread across her face.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Charlie, I'll marry you."
Joy crashed through me. I stood, slipping the ring onto her finger with trembling hands before pulling her into my arms. I buried my face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.
"I love you," I murmured against her temple. "God, I love you so much."
She pulled back enough to look at me, her hazel eyes bright with tears. "I can't believe you involved Oliver in your proposal," she said with a watery laugh. "That's the most perfect thing ever."
Oliver, impatient with being ignored, chose that moment to nicker.
"I think he approves," I said, grinning.
"Of course he does." She kissed me then, her lips soft and warm against mine. When we broke apart, she looked down at the ring glittering on her finger. "It's beautiful, Charlie."
"It was my grandmother's," I told her, watching her face carefully. "But we can pick out something else if you'd prefer something more modern?—"
"It's perfect," she interrupted firmly. "I love that it has history."
“ You’re perfect. And I’m so happy you said yes.”
“Like you ever thought I’d say anything but yes…” She smiled at me with mischief in her eyes.
Now, it’s finally time. The enormous canvas tent glows from within, strings of lights casting a soft haze over our guests as they mingle and laugh, champagne flutes catching the early evening light.
I stand at the edge of everything, taking a moment to myself before rejoining the celebration, my eyes scanning the crowd of people Tess and I handpicked for our guest list. We kept the list tight—sixty people who are the most important to us.
The vibe feels perfect, like we're sharing something precious rather than putting on a show.