Chapter 43
MY FOREVER
DAVINA
The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the vineyard in shades of amber and rose that no Instagram filter could ever replicate.
I stood at the entrance of the reception barn, champagne flute in hand, watching the golden light spill across rows of grapevines and thinking about how twelve hours ago I'd woken up expecting a quiet anniversary breakfast. Maybe a couples massage or a wine tasting followed by an early dinner.
Instead, I got a surprise wedding and a proposal I remembered.
Best anniversary ever.
“You're doing that thing again,” Brooke appeared at my side. “The staring-into-the-distance-looking-overwhelmed thing.”
“I'm processing.”
“You've been processing for six hours.”
“There's a lot to process.” I gestured vaguely at everything, the elegant barn strung with fairy lights, the remains of a dinner that had featured the best beef tenderloin I’d ever had, the dance floor where my father was currently teaching Dallas's mother some kind of swing move that neither of them seemed qualified to attempt.
“My husband planned a secret wedding. He flew in an Elvis impersonator from Vegas to Florida.
He had my dream dress made from a sketch I drew a decade ago. I'm allowed to process.”
“Fair.” She clinked her glass against mine. “For what it's worth, I've never seen you this happy. You're literally glowing. It's disgusting.”
“You helped plan this whole thing. You don't get to complain about the results.”
“I absolutely get to complain. I kept this secret for three months.
Do you know how hard that was? Every time you mentioned your anniversary, I had to pretend I didn't know your husband was orchestrating the most elaborate romantic gesture in human history.” She shuddered dramatically. “The stress nearly killed me.”
“And yet you survived.”
“Barely.” But she was smiling, a soft, genuine smile. “He really loves you, you know. Dallas. The way he talked about you when he came to my office...” She shook her head. “I've known you for over a decade, and I've never seen anyone look at you the way he does.”
My throat tightened. “Brooke…”
“Don't.” She held up a hand. “If you start crying again, I'm going to lose it, and I've already ruined my mascara twice today. Just... go dance with your husband. The DJ's about to play your last song.”
As if on cue, the music shifted. The upbeat tempo that kept everyone moving for the past hour faded into something slower. The opening notes of a song I recognized but couldn't quite place.
And then Dallas was there. His jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and his tie was loosened just enough to suggest a man who'd spent the evening dancing with everyone in attendance.
He'd never looked more handsome.
“Mrs. Dodger.” He extended his hand, palm up, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I believe this is our song.”
“We have a song?”
“We do now.”
I set down my champagne and let him lead me to the dance floor, where the other couples parted to give us space. The fairy lights overhead cast everything in a warm, dreamy glow, and the sunset beyond the barn walls was putting on a show.
Dallas pulled me close, one hand settling on my lower back, the other capturing my fingers. I rested my free hand on his shoulder and let him guide me into a slow, swaying rhythm.
“Hi,” he murmured, his lips brushing my temple.
“Hi.”
“Having a good time?”
I laughed. “I got married to my husband today for the second time. By an Elvis impersonator who turned out to be an accountant from Reno.” I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. “I'm having the best time of my entire life.”
His smile softened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I let my head rest against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath the crisp white fabric of his shirt.
“Thank you. For all of this. For giving me a wedding, for the dress, and the proposal, and the...” I swallowed hard.
“For choosing me. In front of everyone. On purpose.”
“I will always choose you.” His arms tightened around me. “Drunk, sober, in a vineyard. You're it for me, Davina. You've been it since Vegas, I just didn't know it yet.”
I laughed into his chest, feeling the rumble of his own laughter vibrating against my cheek. This man. This ridiculous, romantic, infuriating man who had turned my entire life upside down in the best possible way.
We swayed together as the song played on, and I let myself sink into the moment. The warmth of his body against mine.
Around us, I was vaguely aware of our guests watching, of cameras flashing, of my mother crying again into my father's shoulder. But mostly I was aware of Dallas. The way he held me like I was precious. Of the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.
“I have a confession,” he said quietly.
“Another one? You already confessed to three months of elaborate deception. What else could there be?”
“The song.”
I lifted my head, curious. “What about it?”
“I spent three weeks trying to pick the perfect first Dallas's father, smiling; Marcus, recording everything on his phone; Delilah, jumping up and down.
And then we were through, emerging on the other side into the quiet of the vineyard, the sounds of celebration fading behind us as we walked hand in hand down the path to our cabin.
The sunset had deepened to purple and orange, the sky above us darkening to reveal the first stars. String lights marked our route, twinkling softly in the dusk. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called.
“Well, Mrs. Dodger.” Dallas's voice was low, intimate. “We're officially married. Again.”
“Twice in one lifetime.” I leaned into him, our shoulders bumping as we walked. “Think it'll stick this time?”
“Baby, I plan to marry you at least three more times. Our twentieth anniversary is going to be wild.”
“You're already planning our twentieth anniversary?”
“I'm playing the long game.”
We crested a small hill, and our cabin came into view, a warm glow spilling from the windows, the porch light casting a welcoming pool of gold across the front steps. It looked like something from a fairy tale. A place where happy endings lived.
“I can't believe this is real,” I said softly. “Today. This place. You.”
Dallas stopped walking, turning to face me. In the dying light, his eyes were dark and serious.
“It's real,” he said. “All of it. The wedding, the dress, the proposal, the Elvis accountant. But mostly this.” He lifted our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “You and me. Forever.”
“Dallas…”
“I love you, Davina. I'll love you long after I've forgotten everything else.” He smiled. “Now. I believe there's a tradition I need to uphold.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he swept me up into his arms.
I yelped, grabbing at his shoulders. “Dallas!”