Epilogue
“Nervous?” Isaiah asks, patting my shoulder as we stand beneath the ivy-draped, rustic wooden beams of the open-air chapel on the fairgrounds of the Texas Renaissance Festival, outside of Houston.
“Not even a little,” I say, though my legs jitter in my trousers. My rich, emerald green surcoat and creamy colored tunic keep the high sun of early October from burning my skin as I eagerly await my bride.
Sitting on the wooden bench in the second row, Bailey, Autumn, and their mother, Miranda, hold Ivy, Lainey, Grayson, and the newest Bartlett baby, Gentry, on their laps.
Ivy has taken a particular shine to Gentry, so gentle with him, and I know she’ll make the best big sister when the time comes.
Of our four bedrooms at home, one is dedicated to our home office, which we split between my computer desk and Eden’s makeup station.
With the largest bedroom serving as our primary, and another serving as Ivy’s nursery, we have one left for the future child—or children—we are going to start trying for now that Eden is ready to expand our family.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed—as does Eden—that we’ll be blessed with twins, which runs in my family.
Bailey glares at my fraternal twin sister, Matilda, who flew in from Montana.
Matilda moved there for work a few years ago, and came back to meet Eden the day after I called her to let her know of our engagement.
Eden has chosen her as a bridesmaid, and thus Matilda was led down the aisle by Isaiah.
Maybe that wasn’t the best idea, though, since Bailey has us on edge.
As soon as I tip my head toward the Fischer sisters and Isaiah brings his attention to our guests, Bailey drops her glare, her small chin wobbling slightly as she plants a broad smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her silvery-blue eyes.
Isaiah grimaces, shuddering in his livery that matches my own but in a more muted shade of green. “I can’t wait for her to grow out of her crush. I’m going to throw a massive celebration when she gets her first boyfriend and forgets all about me.”
I smother a chuckle. “So will the rest of the family.”
The violinist plays on while James escorts Shayla, Eden’s Maid of Honor, both decked out in their medieval finery, down the aisle.
Our guests rise, including my parents, who are thrilled to have their first grandbaby and spoil Ivy rotten.
They, like many of our other guests, are dressed in medieval costumes, as we’d hoped.
When the violinist switches to a different lyrical tune, time stands still.
Eden steps from the horse-drawn carriage, helped along by her mother, who arranges my bride’s heavy, ivory skirts.
The golden embroidery on Eden’s cape shines brightly in the sun, and the ends of her sleeves flutter in the warm breeze as she carries a large bouquet of freesias.
Rebecca fluffs Eden’s floor-length veil, which is fastened to her waterfall of shiny curls by a floral crown fit for a queen. The Queen of my heart.
I step forward without thinking, the toes of my calf-high boots hanging from the edge of the wooden stage.
My heart beats wildly in my chest as Rebecca walks Eden down the cobblestone aisle.
I jump off the stage and bow deeply when the pair reach the end, finding it ever harder to breathe when I rise.
“My lady,” I say, offering her my hand.
“My lord,” Eden says in an angelic voice, taking my hand, gathering her skirts after Shayla takes Eden’s bouquet. She curtsies, then allows me to aid her up the three steps onto the stage to stand before the ornately dressed minister.
Hands clasped, Eden stands taller than me by at least two inches in her heels, and it’s like heaven is shining down upon me as I look up into Eden’s maple eyes, finding my gloriously bright future in her stunningly beautiful countenance.
“I do,” I blurt before the minister utters a single word, my cheeks on fire.
Eden’s tinkling of laughter rings out, easing the tension in my shoulders for having once again embarrassed myself in front of so many witnesses. Her face flushes with delight when she vows, “As do I. Forever.”
—THE END—