Epilogue #2
“You’re the best,” he says, and everyone titters.
He starts to read, “Courtney, I fell in love with you years ago, before I even really knew you. And through fate, karma, design, or whatever you call it . . . we, two of the most guarded people, managed to let down our defenses and get to know each other for who we truly are. And that is when I truly fell in love with the woman you are inside.”
He pauses, trying to blink away the tears. He laughs. “I can’t see to read.”
“Just say your heart,” I assure him, taking his hand. “Because that’s all that matters.”
He clears his throat and looks at me with those dark eyes and suddenly smiles peacefully.
“We’re analysts. We both are. My life’s been lived by numbers, crunching data and working it until I find a path to my goal.
But how do you analyze a woman? How do I calculate the love in my heart when I look into your eyes?
How do I turn the excitement I feel for tackling the future with you into a spreadsheet?
I don’t know. If you do, please tell me know. ”
I smile, shaking my head.
“All I know is that I would move heaven and earth just to be close to you. I would take on the gods above and the demons below to keep you safe and happy. And I will do my best to love you the way you deserve to be loved . . . fiercely, fully, and . . . something else that starts with an f. I’m not sure where I was going there, so I’ll .
. . I’ll shut up now. I just . . . I love you. ”
“And that’s why I do the speeches,” Ross mutters under his breath, earning a few laughs, but I’m not laughing. I’m crying big, happy tears as I grab Kaede by his lapels and pull him in for a kiss.
Behind me, I hear Abi hiss, “We’re not at that part yet. You’re wrecking the plan.”
Fuck the plan.
I’ve got Kaede.
And that’s all I need.
Kaede
“Courtney, I think that wedding’s going to be told in our family’s history for .
. . generations, at least,” Mom says, sipping her flute of champagne.
“A beautiful bride, a perfect setting . . . and my son stumbling through the goofiest set of vows in history before you top him by jumping the gun on the kiss.”
“Hey, he’s got a kissable face,” Courtney teases, smooshing my cheeks between her hands and kissing the fishy lips she’s created.
“Oh, he is that. I used to tell him I was going to gobble those cheeks up,” Mom says, laughing as I blush. “Congratulations again, kids.”
I hug Mom, looking over her shoulder to see Earl talking to Ross and Morgan Andrews.
Or Dad now, I guess . . . it’ll be nice to have one again.
But what catches my eye is the way Earl looks over at Mom, adjusting his tie, and a suspicion grows in my mind.
Maybe I’ll have a father-in-law and a stepdad soon. I’m going from no dad to two.
I take Courtney’s hand, touching the gold band on her right hand. I don’t remember my dad, not really, but I’m glad that he loved Mom well enough that she has hope in her heart to risk loving again. Even if Earl comes with gross, but funny, stories about shit.
Erica’s staff has switched the great room around quickly while we sip cocktails in the parlor, and after only a few minutes, she gestures us all back in. We elected to skip the whole announcement running in thing because it seemed silly when we just saw these people.
But we do move back to the area in front of the fireplace. The DJ in the corner plays the song for our first dance . . . or he’s supposed to, at least. But what comes out is a Backstreet Boys song.
I start to go over, but Courtney catches my hand. “Erica’s got it. We’ll do our dance for the next one.” Louder, she says, “We’ll try that again, but for now, everybody up. Let’s dance!”
Nobody is going to tell Courtney fucking Andrews-McWarren no, so people get out of their chairs and sway back and forth awkwardly.
Everyone joins in, even baby Charlotte, or Carly, as everyone insists on calling her.
She dances with Archie and his boyfriend, who are both holding one of her hands as they coo and smile at her.
Archie’s already threatened to fight for the bouquet, quite taken with his boyfriend, but my money’s on Kayla.
She’s feisty. AJ’s got his hands full with that one.
We dance a few songs, and eventually our first couple dance as man and wife. I think it’s song four by the time the DJ gets it right, but I’m too happy and caught up in Courtney to even care.
“Okay, okay,” Abi says as we all sit down for the toasts before the cake gets cut and the bouquet gets tossed, “Don’t make this a big deal. Because it’s not. I have to ask—for a friend, mind you—which side of the family tree is he from?”
We all look to where she’s pointing as a group, completely obvious.
I see a man carefully examining the buffet table.
He’s got dark hair, olive skin, and judging from the tattoos I can see peeking out of his collared shirt, a streak of bad boy in him a mile wide.
Something about him screams danger, which is like catnip to Abi.
I’m about to tease Abi about her questionable taste in men when Vi raises her hand.
“Oh, me! That’s my cousin, Lorenzo. He just moved here from Sicily.
He was recruited to be the chef at a new restaurant, and I brought him with me because he doesn’t know anyone yet.
I figured I’d introduce him to your family first because mine is more .
. . more.” That’s putting it mildly. Vi’s family is loud, crazy, and argues as entertainment. Did I mention loud?
Oh, shit. I can see it on Abi’s face from second one as she grins. She’s in lust. “New in town, you say? Well, I might just—”
“Not give details until Carly’s asleep,” Ross says, a hint of his old protectiveness in his voice. I get it. I feel like I’ve adopted Abi as my sister too. Seeing me with Courtney is one thing. Ross has known me for half our lives. But this new guy?
I’m not saying no, yet. I need to gather some data on him before I can say that for sure. But in the meantime, no.
“Hmmph.” Abi pouts. “If that’s how you’re gonna be, then I’ll be the one to make sure he gets a warm welcome to town,” Abi says, making all of us wince. “Toodles. Don’t wait up.”
“Like anyone would wait up for her,” Archie says, bouncing Carly on his lap and tempting the spit-up fates. “Vi, she’s so cute it makes me rethink the whole parenting thing. Where can I get one of my own?”
“I’m sure there’s a website where you can put in an order,” Vi jokes, carefully taking Carly from Archie, “but I think I’ll hold onto her just in case.”
“If you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time to cut the cake,” I tell everyone, taking Courtney’s hand.
“With sprinkles!” she announces, as if we don’t already know that was the only thing she asked for with the cake.
Erica had tried to talk her out of it, suggesting delicate flowers or icing details, but it’d been no use.
She did allow for white chocolate sprinkles, though, so that the wedding cake would be white.
As we go up to the table, she leans into my arm, smiling happily.
“I think our life is going to be filled with love and family,” she whispers to me.
We pick up the knife, and I look into her eyes. “I can live with that. You ready?”
“I am.”
Me too. Ready for cake . . . and the rest of our lives.