Chapter 51 #2
But when Brandon takes an unexpected turn, my eyes fly to his.
“Where are we going?”
His wry smile is soft but carries a hint of mischief. “Do you trust me?”
A small laugh rolls across my tongue at the words he used a lifetime ago.
“Of course, Brandon,” I say. “I’ve never trusted anyone more in my life.”
“Then close your eyes.”
I don’t hesitate to obey, leaning back against the headrest. A few minutes later, I hear Brandon kill the engine and open my door.
My eyelids don’t even flutter.
He guides me in my blind state, his warm hands around mine the only assurance I need. After a murmured instruction here and a hushed “step up, love” there, we come to a stop.
“Okay. You can see now.”
The fragrant surroundings give him away before I even open my eyes.
White cherry blossoms skate across the midnight sky. Tendrils of moonlit beauty unfurl this way and that, so enchanting that my breath catches.
“They bloomed,” I whisper.
“They did.” He smiles. “I’ve been checking every day on my way to the museum. I planned to bring you here tonight, until…” The corners of his mouth fall before lifting again. “Well, you deserved to end the night on a good note.”
“The best note,” I breathe, reveling in the scent of happy memories. I break away, wandering beneath the star-dusted branches. Each blossom skirting the wood symbolizes a fresh start. A new beginning. My new beginning. Clutching a hand to my heart, I turn back.
Brandon stands motionless, gazing at me with intense adoration.
I start to cry for what feels like the millionth time.
“Are you okay?” He rushes toward me.
“I’m so okay. More okay than I’ve ever—” The words are coming out all wrong, and I flap my hands. “This is the best worst night of my entire life.”
A laugh bursts out of Brandon, and I can’t help but reciprocate it through my tears.
A crooked smile tilts his mouth. He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear before tracing my smile with his thumb.
“I’m going to marry you, you know,” he says.
A flutter rises in my chest. “Are you, now?”
His grin grows. “No, not now, but someday. And I’d like to put a baby in you at some point, too.”
My stunned laugh punctuates the air. “Smooth, Brandon. Real smooth. And those are some mighty plans you have.”
“We have.” He calls my bluff, lifting his palms to cradle my face. His eyes dance between mine, stirring my butterflies into a cloud.
“I’m going to make you happy, Kate.” He presses a kiss to my mouth, soft and sweet. “Every day.” Another languid kiss before his voice darkens. “Every night.” Another kiss, but harder this time. “Every year.”
His words mingle with the breeze as my soul mingles with his.
Our future swirls around us, fragrant with magic.
And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am worthy of it all.
We both are.
ONE MONTH LATER
The Vanderbilt wing has transformed into a gauzy, floral-scented dream. Paintings still glow from their permanent positions on the wall, but the rest of the hall is unrecognizable.
Soft white lanterns hang from wrought iron stands that punctuate the aisle.
Thick garlands of freesia and ivy line the path that my best friend will walk down in only a matter of minutes.
The aisle ends in an arch, and just beyond hangs Amantha’s favorite painting, Attersee Bei Sonnenuntergang, or Lake Attersee at Sunset.
The soft chatter of guests carries above the string quartet stationed inside the entrance. Blythe, Robyn, Kendra, Rick, and other museum staff are already seated in the back row. Amantha’s entire family is here, as is mine.
It’s odd to see all the people in my life mixed together, but something warms in my stomach at the way Susan tries to engage Mom in a conversation. Val’s Nonna teeters around, refusing to listen to anyone and everyone about where she’s allowed to sit.
I smooth a hand over my dress, sudden nerves making me jittery. Ridiculous, I have to remind myself. It’s not like this is my wedding.
Julia approaches in an identical silk gown to where I’m peeking around the entrance wall.
Our dresses are understated, with featherlight straps and square necklines.
The shade reminds me of pale morning mist rising over lake water.
The bouquet of white lilies we hold are smaller versions of the one Amantha will carry.
But Julia’s large blue eyes are agape with concern.
I don’t immediately panic, though. I adore my new friend, but Julia’s worries can span from someone’s leg being severed from their body to one of the wedding guests turning up their nose at her.
“Amantha needs us. Now,” she whispers.
Okay, fine. This scenario is much closer to the leg-severing than I expected.
I fan my hands toward her. “Let’s get moving, then! She’s only got a few minutes.”
We try to keep our heels from clacking as we sneak across the entrance. Anthony, Val, and his entourage are lined on the opposite wall, waiting to enter.
My heart skitters as I take in Brandon, all handsomed-up in his best man attire. I don’t miss the way his heated stare runs down me like a caress, making me prickle everywhere.
He snakes his arm out as I pass, catching me to plant a kiss to my cheek. Anthony makes an exaggerated gagging sound from beside Val, who ruffles Anthony’s light brown cowlick with a laugh.
I push out of Brandon’s hold.
“Bad best man,” I chastise like he’s a puppy. “This is not our day.”
“Sooner than later, though,” he whispers back, dimples flashing.
I scurry away, also passing Daniel, and his and Camilla’s kids, Leo and Matteo.
Julia encircles my wrist as she tugs me along faster. I aim for the Carnegie room, which has been temporarily reassigned as Amantha’s bridal dressing suite, but Julia pulls me in an unexpected direction.
“She’s in the ladies’ room,” she whispers.
We push open the door to the sound of retching.
Amantha’s satin train is visible beneath the largest stall, and I rush toward it.
“Oh no,” I lament. “Nerves? Or did you eat something bad?”
Amantha sits back on her ankles, dabbing the sweat from her face with a paper towel. The elegant knot on the nape of her neck sways as she shakes her head.
“Neither.” She straightens, swiping something off the crest of the toilet paper dispenser.
It doesn’t take long to register the two perpendicular lines running across the pregnancy test. My jaw hits the floor.
“You’re pregnant?”
Her smile is wobbly but happy as she waves the test like a windshield wiper.
“It wasn’t until I was scooping ice cream onto a dill pickle like a freaking sundae that I realized…
” Happy tears brim in her gray eyes like liquid silver.
“Ryan and I struggled for so long after having Anthony that Val and I agreed that if it happened, it happened. Turns out the problem was always with Ryan.” She laughs.
“I picked up the test on the way here because I had to know before the ceremony. I want us both to know.”
“Do you want us to go get Val?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Amantha says. “But blindfold him or something. I’ve had more than enough marital bad luck.”
“Okay,” I chuckle.
I’m halfway to the door when Julia calls, “I’ll stay here in case she needs me.”
Whatever hormones are raging in Amantha’s system suddenly spring from her eyeballs. I walk out to the beginning wails of Amantha sobbing that Julia is one of the kindest people she’s ever met.
“Oh boy,” I say under my breath.
Val’s brow furrows as I approach, Brandon’s following suit. I reach for Brandon’s collar, deftly wedging my fingers inside his black silk bowtie to release it.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Brandon whispers, “but why are you undressing me?”
“Shhh,” I say before I turn to Val. “You’re coming with me.”
“But we’re supposed to start—” Val whispers back.
I aim a snap down the hall, threatening him with my eyes. “Come on.”
I slip behind him with the narrow fabric of Brandon’s bowtie as we walk, then begin to blindfold him.
“What are you—” he starts, but I shove him blindly into the ladies’ room without a word.
Julia slips out past him, but we can’t resist pressing our ears to the door. Bewildered voices turn into the ecstatic shouts of long-awaited dreams coming true.
Julia sniffs, and I laugh softly through a trail of my own tears.
“Our makeup is going to be screwed, isn’t it?” she whispers.
“Worth it,” I say with a smile, resting my head against the wood grain.
Amantha and Val’s reception is lit. There’s simply no other way to describe it.
After the tissue-filled ceremony in which Anthony trudged down the aisle flinging lily petals, Rick officiated, and Brandon mouthed, “I love you,” from beside Val, all the guests rounded The Spiral to the Bloomburg wing.
The empty space had been between exhibitions, but it now booms with lights, music, and a full-on dance floor.
Past The Lights by Accidentally on Purpose spills out of the speakers, a wide circle surrounding Brandon as he drops into the same boyband routine he performed at that grandma’s bachelorette party. I whoop and cheer along with the crowd as he throws me a wink from his breakdancing pose.
Amantha claps in time beside me, a shining vision of satin and sweat. Her formal bun is long gone, and her waves whip wildly around her face. Val stands mere inches behind her in his formal white button-up, his hands subtly resting atop her stomach.
He catches me watching and gives me a roguish smile.
“You guys are next.” He jerks his head toward my massive boyfriend currently whipping the crowd into a riot.
A laugh bubbles out of me as I clap in time to the music.
Although I’m unsure if Val is referencing the recent ceremony or the sweet baby growing in my friend’s tummy, I’m thrilled at both ideas.
Twenty minutes later, I slump into a chair. My feet feel like they’ve been run over by a garbage truck. I huff a sweaty curl away and pry my heels off.
Brandon went to go get us drinks—soda water for him—but apparently has been abducted by Val’s Nonna and is now enduring a slow dance with her wandering hands.
I’m still laughing as Julia plops down beside me.
“Dallas is getting us drinks.” She also glistens with sweat, but on her flawless skin, it looks like morning dew. Her left hand wriggles the diamond engagement ring between her fingers. She does it so often, I’m not sure she even realizes it.
“Don’t you mean your fiancé went to get you drinks?” I tease.
She grins. “Yes. Gosh I’m so excited for all this.” She gestures to the venue. “I’m gonna overthink a billion decisions, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” I chuckle, “you are.”
She sighs, scanning the hall. I watch her smile falter as her gaze lands on Eric Sanderson’s gleaming head. “I’m sad Tuck wasn’t able to fly back from London for this.”
I take her hand, squeezing gently. “I know. Brandon isn’t handling him leaving too well, either. You guys are all so close.”
“We are.” She sniffs. “Or were. I don’t know. It feels like there’s an ocean between us.” She pauses with a tiny laugh. “I guess there actually is.”
I watch her waning happiness. “You could always go visit him, you know.”
Julia blanches, red hair fanning as she shakes her head. “No. I don’t do planes.”
The sullen expression on her face tells me this is not the time to pry.
“We’ll all see him for Thanksgiving this fall,” I supply.
Two massive hands materialize in front of our faces, snapping multiple times.
“Nuh uh,” Brandon says. “No Tuck-moping. He’s where he needs to be.” He aims a look at Julia, pointedly bobbing his head with each word. “And we are happy for Tuck.”
Julia recites the words with a grumble, then excuses herself to hunt down Dallas.
I’m unprepared when Brandon scoops me from my chair, claims my seat, and dumps me unceremoniously onto his lap. His grin is pure mischief.
“So, my future fiancée,” he says. “How’s your evening?”
I laugh even as I nestle closer against his body. His button-up is unbuttoned well past his tanned collarbones, offering a peek at his tantalizing tattoo to anyone who bothers to look.
And I bother. A lot.
“You can’t just call me your fiancée, you know.” I thread my fingers through the hair at his nape, knowing exactly how crazy it makes him. I’m rewarded with the treeline hue of his eyes darkening. “Not unless you put your money where your mouth is.”
“What about my mouth?” he teases, low and husky.
I flush brighter than the spotlights. “I was just saying—”
“Sure, you were.”
He runs a line of sparking kisses from my ear to my jaw. Gathering the silk beside my waist into fistfuls, he continues to drop scalding kiss after kiss to my neck. My eyes may be closed, but I’m seeing stars.
“I love you, Kate.” His rough whisper finds my lips, a delicious sandpaper I want to taste again and again. He splays his fingers across the fabric on my left hip, above the rose tattoo that marks me his.
“I love you too,” I whisper, and a heady sense of want seems to surround us both. His kisses turn urgent, and I have to push a palm against his thundering heart.
“Brandon,” I say, chest rising and falling. “Not here.”
Something like pride glints in his eyes at the way I’m quivering.
“Then where?” he teases.
“Home.” I breathe a laugh. “Take me home.”
His smile turns soft.
“Oh, love. You already are home.”