29. All Holy Vows (Hattie)
ALL HOLY VOWS (HATTIE)
Months Later
W e push the wedding back to fall to give us a little more breathing space.
Precious time.
Now that we’re in this for real, the timeline isn’t nearly as important as it was when this was a giant charade.
Getting it over with as soon as possible isn’t what matters.
Now, it’s having the wedding and the honeymoon of our dreams, and then the rest of our lives.
To my relief, once we change our minds about the venue, it’s easy enough to shuffle everything around—especially when Ethan throws his weight (and money) into the equation.
When we broke up, we never got around to canceling the plans. But I left Ethan in charge of that since he paid.
With everything else going on, he just… didn’t.
“I was too busy sulking, trying to chase you away with a damn bottle,” he told me with one of his rare smiles.
At least the press is satisfied with our version of the truth. We spent some time apart before deciding we truly did want holy matrimony.
With the pressure off, life drifts along in that lazy, relaxing way it does when you’re happy.
We say goodbye to summer together, filling our time with long walks, holding hands on the beach, taking Leonidas’ yacht out a few more times, and flying to New York City so he can attack business by day while I make it my personal mission to see every bookstore in the city.
Every day feels precious in a way I never knew it could.
Ethan has even learned to forgive his grandfather’s sins.
No easy lesson, but it’s only right when life isn’t black and white, and being a Blackthorn means living every shade of grey.
And whatever mistakes Leo made when it came to his children, he was right about one thing—Ethan and I are perfect for each other.
“It’s not so horrible, wanting your grandson to fall in love,” I tell him as we lie on a picnic rug, staring at the clouds rippling over the ocean in curling waves.
The August sun paints my skin with warmth.
Ethan rolls so he’s facing me.
“I’ll give the old man that. He couldn’t have picked a better wife for me.” He reaches out, touching my hair. “And he’s right—I might’ve never looked at you twice if it wasn’t for the will forcing us together.”
“Rude!”
“You hated me, remember?” He smiles. “For good reason. I was the asshole bully who ruined your happy times with Margot.”
“I didn’t hate you. I mean, not exactly. I just thought you were an entitled swinging dick who thought he could have anything he wanted.”
His smile comes slow and soft and achingly tender, even if I know he’s about to make fun of himself. “What part was untrue?”
“None of it,” I say. “There’s just more to you than I thought. Layers.”
“Onions have layers, Hattie. The more you peel, the harder they make you cry.”
“Well, so does tiramisu! And there’s a lot of sweet stuff between the bitter espresso. Even rich, entitled jerkwads can be kind. Sometimes,” I add.
His eyes spark with challenge.
“So I should cancel your big book event with two world-class authors? It’s only the talk of town. You don’t want to know the strings I had to pull to get M.E. Court and Gwen Lynn to Portland for a duo signing.”
“Ethan!” I lean over to smack his arm. “You can’t get to me that easily. I know you wouldn’t dare. And thank you again, I’m still in awe it’s happening.”
Seriously. That mother-daughter pair from Minnesota can write, even if they’re in different genres.
“Shame,” he grumbles. “But are you sure? You might be older and sexier now, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less gullible.”
“Please. I’m way less gullible.” When he opens his arms, I snuggle in close, smiling when I feel his lips against my hair. “Have you forgiven him yet?”
“Gramps?”
“Yeah. I know it’s a little more complicated with your parents, but he isn’t around to defend himself. And without him, we wouldn’t be here now.”
“I…” He sighs, his hands trailing down my side to the sliver of skin between my shirt and shorts.
Despite myself, I shiver. “It’s fucking complicated.
At the end of the day, he lied to me. He held back secrets I should’ve known, long before I left town raging and lost. But I get why he did it, why the fallout with Mom and Dad left him no good options.
And you’re right, Gramps playing hardass cupid wasn’t a crime . ”
“Especially with me,” I remind him, hooking my leg over his.
“It wouldn’t have worked with anyone else, Hattie.”
My whole body tingles.
He still gets that reaction, even though he tells me he loves me every single day.
Yes, the breakup sucked, but it helped him realize what’s important. I’m not afraid anymore that he’ll take me for granted or abruptly change his mind.
Not while he’s holding my hand like a treasure.
It’s a new experience, feeling like you’re in so deep with a man and he’s right there with you, sheltering you from every wave of life.
Every time I imagine the future, my fingers and toes curl. I get the same heady feeling I do when I finish an awesome book and I know there’s a sequel coming.
Ethan Blackthorn isn’t just my sequel.
He’s my whole fricking saga.
The prologue, the middle chapter, and the very last word. If I’m lucky, we’ll be writing amazing new stories together until we die.
Grinning, I roll on top of him, urging his hands on my hips.
“Careful,” he growls.
His eyes ignite. I can already feel his erection against my leg.
“I want to hear you say it,” I whisper, brushing my lips over his.
“You really want to talk about Gramps right now? Fuck.”
“I want you to forgive him. If you can.”
He sighs roughly, his hands traveling back up my sides, fingers grazing the curve of my breast. My nipples pebble.
“For your impatient, irresistibly sweet ass, I do. I forgive the old man. He was only human, and that’s a hard thing to be.”
“So wise.”
Leaning down, I nip his bottom lip, watching the way his eyes well with desire until he growls into my kiss.
“I just want to move forward and forget the past, Ethan. No regrets.”
“Woman, I could never regret you.”
And when he kisses me again, I don’t care if anyone from the evening crowd could walk in on us at any moment.
I give myself over to my almost husband and my forever.
When did real life become a fantasy novel?
Because I feel like I’m ready to sprout fairy wings, surrounded by tall trees bursting with so much autumn fire it’s breathtaking.
The wedding is on the same woodpecker protected land that sent Cooper Daley spiraling. Ethan hasn’t figured out what to do with it yet.
That’s our little bonus that makes it extra special.
Sometimes land isn’t about money.
For us, this place is magical, and that’s everything.
This morning, with Margot and Mom fussing around me and the photographer lurking in the background, I stepped into my well-altered wedding dress for the final time.
Mom did up the back, tugging more gently at my waist than I expected. All while Margot blubbered like she did when we were little girls.
Now, standing in front of the full-length mirror, looking at myself, I want to cry.
Pure Cinderella with a sprinkle of fairy dust.
The last few days have been glorious. Ever since my booktastic bachelorette party with Margot and Mom, where we barhopped and ended our evening listening to audiobooks by Mom’s fireplace.
But seeing myself like this, I know I haven’t tasted happiness yet.
The dress cups my breasts, pushing them together, subtle yet alluring. No easy feat with boobs this big, thank you.
The sleek material drapes down, flowing over my curves like a silky waterfall, tastefully accented without hiding my shape.
Flaws?
Nope, I don’t see them.
Yes, the curve of my hips is round and there’s a little loose flesh on my upper arms. There’s still a small flabby bulge at the base of my stomach.
But now I know— I know —it doesn’t matter.
My soon-to-be husband loves me just the way I am.
That gives me the courage to love myself.
“You look so radiant,” Mom whispers in awe.
“She really does,” Margot agrees, resting her head on my shoulder.
She’s wearing her sage-green dress, the one she helped pick as Maid of Honor. Honestly, with her hair up in loose curls, she’s rocking fae mode herself today.
“Do you have the shoes?” I ask.
“You know it! Hang on.” She quickly fetches a pair of low white heels a second later. They’re spotless, despite knowing she’s owned them for a few years.
When I asked to borrow them, she wanted to buy me a new pair. But I’ve loved these since the first time I saw her wearing them. They were custom shoes she agonized over a long time ago, and I needed my something borrowed.
Silly traditions matter.
Good thing we’re the same size in the shoe department, too.
“Enjoy, Hattie. I don’t want them back.” She sets them in front of me so I can slip them on.
“That’s not borrowing!” I say.
“It’s a gift. We’ll just say I borrowed them from you. I just never knew it when I had them made.” She grins at me, so full of love I can’t do anything but love her back even when she’s being ridiculous.
I’m so grateful she’s been my bestie forever, and now our lives are going to be more intertwined than I dreamed.
I squeeze her hands.
“You should do more than custom orders. Start designing again. You could make awesome shoes for people to love. These are gorgeous.”
“Maybe one day,” she says noncommittally.
“If you ever do, I’ll be president of the Margot Blackthorn shoe club.”
She laughs.
“Like I could stand it if you weren’t.” She leans forward to kiss my cheek. “My brother’s a lucky man. He doesn’t deserve you,” she whispers. “But seriously, if he ever breaks your heart, we’re burying him up to his neck on the beach and waiting for the tide to come in.”
“Margot! Can we keep the murdery talk out of my wedding?” I still laugh. “No painful backup plans needed. I’m positive.”
“I know, but he’s my brother, and I always have your back.” She winks and checks her phone. “Almost showtime. Are you ready?”