CHAPTER 61
Evander
The ceremony itself was short and sweet, just family and ranch staff. And by sweet, I mean that there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.
Finn looked like a man who’d gone out back to dig a well and came home with the lost treasure of the Mayan Empire.
Emma was serene and lovely, and it dawned on me how much she’s changed in her time here at Yosemite Ranch. In the span of six months, she’s gone from skittish and shy to one of the most loving, easygoing people I’ve ever met.
And Jasmine… I think that’s why we nearly ran out of tissues at this shindig. She was the flower girl again, as she was with Victoria and Cal. But this time was different. Her face glowed with excitement and happiness as she watched the ceremony unfold because this was her new life taking shape.
After Finn and Emma exchanged their vows with one another, they reached out their hands for Jasmine to join them. She ran to the altar, curls flying. They all held hands in a circle and Finn and Emma both promised to protect, love, and have fun with Jasmine as her parents, forever.
Then the three of them walked down the aisle as a family.
Cue the sobbing.
Aunt Phyllis—who now prefers the title MeeMaw Phyllis—was so deliriously happy that I feared she’d need resuscitation. It’s good that her son from her first marriage, along with his wife and kids, are here to keep her together.
That is one delighted woman.
Now that the ceremony itself is over and we’re milling around the transformed indoor riding arena, the reception guests are expected to arrive.
Finn and Emma have invited hundreds of people, including neighbors and friends far and wide, Finn’s Navy buddies, and lots of our San Diego StellaR Tech business team.
I’m waiting for my eight guests to arrive.
As I stare at the entrance, I’m nervous as hell. My mouth feels as dry as midday in the Atacama desert. Because Phoebe and her family should be entering the arena soon.
“You good, bro?” Declan sidles up to me and hands me a drink. Summer’s with him, per usual, and she’s tugging on her bridesmaid dress like it’s constructed of sandpaper and stink bugs.
“This shit is so uncomfortable,” she grumbles. “I don’t know how women do it. I mean, if I had to wear a dress to my job on a daily basis, I’d shove sticks in my eyeballs and throw myself off Prospector’s Escarpment.”
Declan rolls his eyes at me as if he’s saying, “Get a load of this girl.” Like this is anything out of the ordinary for her. And like Declan isn’t her No. 1 fan.
These two are Yosemite Ranch’s version of the comedy team Key & Peele, if Key & Peele were secretly in love with one another and had spent a decade repressing their desires. Declan and Summer’s stubborn denial routine is getting less believable with each passing year.
I take a sip of my scotch.
“What’s your problem?” Summer asks me.
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Then why do you look like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re the one getting married.”
I glance over at Declan. “Get a load of this girl,” I say to him.
Summer stops her fidgeting, walks around Declan, and stands in front of me. She’s props her hands on her hips. “You know, most lawyers are really good liars.”
“Please find someone else to assault, Summer.”
“We all know about Phoebe, so chill the fuck out. We love her. She’s the best. You’ve always been cute together. I’m actually happy for you guys. I only hope she has the patience of an oyster.”
I look down at her, mystified.
“You know, enduring years of irritation in order to make a pearl. Ha!” She slaps her knee. Declan howls with laughter.
I take another sip of my scotch and ignore them. Summer has a point, though. I can be an irritating man. I, too, hope Phoebe is patient enough to deal with me in the long term.
“So? You getting married or what?”
I glare at her. “Summer, people like you are the reason elopements are popular.”
“You’re eloping? When?”
I close my eyes to center myself, then turn to Declan. “The wheelchair ramp is still in place, right?”
“It is. And the guys we hired to park cars and escort guests know all about what to do for Gil Travis.”
I pat Declan on the shoulder. “Thanks.”
I’ve worried about this. The temperatures have stayed below freezing and the logistics for snow removal have been a nightmare.
Finn and Emma originally wanted to have the same kind of event tent that Victoria and Cal used for their reception. Unfortunately, the winter wonderland Emma dreamed of has made that impossible.
I have to admit that Finn pivoted nicely, and the indoor arena looks like it was always intended as the venue. As a bonus, it’s climate-controlled.
I’ll never tell Finn this, but his glitter-covered twigs and silver balls look pretty nice. Dad chopped down one of our own spruce trees so that Finn could have his sparkling centerpiece. It looks good. If our Navy contracts ever dry up, Finn might have a shot at a career as a wedding planner.
I take a deep breath, knowing how fucking lucky I am.
If I hadn’t volunteered to retrieve Finn’s mythic evergreen tree, a very different reality would be unfolding right now.
One without Phoebe.
“Phoebe’s here!” Summer goes running off to greet her. Summer’s followed by Victoria, Jasmine, and even the bride herself. Dad makes a beeline to the entrance as well.
I can’t see much of anything.
Special K, Cal, and Finn come to stand on my other side.
“It’s all good,” I assure them.
“It better be,” Finn says. “No bloodshed on my wedding day—that’s the only thing I’ve ever asked for.”
We all turn to stare at him in disbelief. Finn clearly has no idea how untethered to reality he sounds. His lengthy lists of demands have kept us hopping for days.
“Well, hello there,” Special K says.
I follow his gaze and all the air empties from my lungs.
The Travises have dropped their outerwear with coat check and are coming in. Izzy is pushing Gil’s wheelchair along the accessible walkway that reaches all the way to the main reception floor. Ryder—I think I’ve identified him correctly—is carrying his dad’s oxygen tank.
Behind them is Phoebe.
She’s bookended by four brothers, two on either side. But I don’t see them. They’re just background noise.
I see only her. She’s all there is.
“Wow,” Declan whispers.
“Those are not nursing scrubs,” Cal adds.
My heart is pounding so hard that I worry it will dislodge the boutonniere pinned to my lapel.
“Let’s do this,” Finn says.
Unfortunately, my feet seem to be superglued to the parquet floor beneath me.
“You’re pathetic,” Cal says.
He’s right. I’m a shadow of my former self.
Phoebe’s eyes find mine, and the most stunning, perfect smile breaks out across her face.
I honestly don’t know what to look at first.
That fucking dress.
It’s red velvet, floor-length and strapless, and split up to her mid-thigh. It fits her like a tactical wetsuit.
This is definitely not a party-girl-in-a-limo dress. Phoebe is black tie and red carpet all the way.
Her hair.
It’s been blown out and shaped into loose, shiny waves swept to the side and draped over her right shoulder. She’s a femme fatal. A goddess.
Those four-inch stilettoes.
Fuck me.
“Breathe, dumbass,” Declan hisses.
The five of us move as a unit to greet Gil and Izzy. I tell them how happy I am to see them both. I shake Gil’s hand and kiss Izzy on the cheek. Then I shake Ryder’s hand.
He nods at me and allows all my brothers to shake his hand as well.
So far, so good. All politeness and zero blood.
My brothers greet the Travis men, one at a time. I even see Cal pat Bo on the back and laugh. I think I hear him apologize for dropping him to the hospital room floor.
I try to focus. It’s difficult with Phoebe standing just out of reach. But I shake everyone’s hands and thank each of them individually, by name, for joining us. I hope to hell I didn’t confuse Mason for Bo, or Bo for Kyle, or Kyle for Mason.
I wonder if they have the same problem with us MacLaines.
Jake is last. He accepts my offer of a handshake but leans in to whisper in my ear, doing his hockey-star best to break the bones in my hand. Not a chance.
“Hurt her, and you’re a dead man,” he says.
I laugh and whisper back to him, “Like what happened in Phoebe’s hospital room?”
He pulls back and glares at me.
This is it. At this moment, we’ll either come to blows or make peace, and I’m not sure which it will be. It’s up to Jake.
Then I see his mouth twitch. He offers me an almost undetectable lift of his chin and he continues into the reception.
Finally, I’m free to look at Phoebe. I turn, and my eyes drink her in.
This drop-dead-gorgeous woman is mine.
All mine.