Chapter 14
Josh
I’m standing in the kitchen holding a stack of catering proposals while Lindsay paces between the table and the window, her stress filling the room with tension that makes even the horses nervous along with on one-edge horse shifter.
We’ve been planning this wedding for three weeks, and every conversation about venue, menu, or guest accommodations turns into a battlefield between her family’s expectations and my desire for something authentic.
“My father called again this morning.” Lindsay waves her phone like evidence in a criminal trial. “He wants to know if we’ve reconsidered the country club option because, apparently, the weather forecast shows a thirty percent chance of rain next weekend.”
I set down the catering proposals with more force than necessary. “It’s New York in spring. There’s always a thirty percent chance of rain. That’s why we have the barn.”
“That’s what I told him, though he pointed out the barn doesn’t have climate control or proper acoustics for the string quartet.
” She stops pacing long enough to fix me with a look that suggests she’s reconsidering every decision that led to this moment.
“He also mentioned several of his colleagues are asking about hotel recommendations because, apparently, staying at the ranch bunkhouse isn’t appealing to people who normally require room service. ”
“They can stay in town like everyone else. This is a ranch wedding, not a corporate retreat.”
She crosses her arms, her donkey shifter stubbornness emerging in full force. “Josh, I’m trying to find compromises that work for both our families. Your attitude of ‘take it or leave it’ isn’t helping.”
“My attitude?” I stand up, feeling my own irritation spike.
“Lindsay, every suggestion from your father involves changing everything that makes this wedding meaningful to us, including climate-controlled venues, hotel accommodations, and professional catering instead of Miguel’s barbacoa.
He wants us to have his idea of a proper wedding, not ours. ”
“He’s trying to make sure his guests are comfortable.”
“His guests.” I emphasize the words, letting my frustration show. “What about my guests? What about Miguel, who’s been more of a father to me than anyone since I lost my parents? What about the community that’s watched us build this relationship? Do their comfort and preferences not matter?”
Lindsay’s expression softens slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it, though? Every compromise we make favors your family’s expectations over mine.
” I breathe in and out several times, trying to control my horse shifter instincts that want to pace and argue until we reach some kind of resolution.
“I’m not asking for anything unreasonable.
I want to get married in the place that matters most to us, surrounded by the people who’ve supported our relationship. ”
“I want that too.” Her voice carries genuine frustration now. “I’m just trying to figure out how to make it work for everyone.”
“Maybe everyone doesn’t get to be comfortable. Maybe your father’s colleagues need to experience something outside their usual world for once.”
She opens her mouth to argue but then closes it again. I can see her processing what I’ve said, weighing her father’s expectations against what we actually want for our wedding day.
Emma chooses that moment to walk through the kitchen door, carrying coffee and clearly having overheard enough of the heated conversation to understand the situation. “Are we still fighting about venue accommodations?”
“We’re discussing logistics,” Lindsay says stiffly.
She sets down her coffee and fixes us both with a look I’ve seen her give difficult animals. “You’re arguing about whose family gets priority, which is exactly what you swore you wouldn’t do when you got engaged.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I start, though Emma cuts me off with a raised hand.
“No, it’s not. You want a ranch wedding that reflects who you are as a couple. Lindsay wants her family to feel welcome and comfortable. Those aren’t mutually exclusive goals unless you make them that way.”
She moves to the refrigerator and pulls out a beer, though it’s only two p.m., opening it with more force than necessary.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re having the wedding in the barn because that’s what you both want.
We’re hiring the expensive caterer for cocktail hour and using Miguel’s barbacoa for the reception because good food is good food regardless of who makes it.
We’re providing shuttle service from town so Lindsay’s guests don’t have to worry about parking in pastures, and we’re stocking premium champagne alongside local beer. ”
Lindsay and I exchange glances, both of us recognizing Emma’s take-charge tone from years of veterinary emergencies.
“The barn will be decorated with expensive flowers from a pro, the music will include both classical and country, and anyone who complains about authentic ranch hospitality can drive back to the city.” She takes a long drink of her beer.
“This is your wedding, not a diplomatic summit. Stop trying to make everyone happy and start focusing on what makes you happy.”
Her words hit home because they’re exactly what we needed to hear. I look at Lindsay, seeing my own realization reflected in her expression.
“She’s right.” Lindsay reaches for my hand. “I’ve been so worried about managing everyone else’s expectations that I forgot what we actually want.”
“I’ve been so focused on protecting our choices that I stopped listening to your concerns.” I squeeze her fingers, feeling the tension between us finally start to ease. “Emma’s compromise sounds perfect.”
“Good. Now that we’ve resolved the venue crisis, can we please focus on the important things like making sure Miguel’s mother doesn’t interrogate your corporate guests about their agricultural knowledge?
” Emma grins wickedly. “That woman has been preparing for weeks to properly educate city folks about ranch life.”
The next two weeks pass in a blur of vendor meetings, family negotiations, and detailed planning that makes me appreciate why some people elope.
Emma coordinates logistics with military precision while Lindsay handles diplomatic relations between our families with skills honed from years of corporate negotiations.
Three days before the wedding, Henry Caldwell arrives at the ranch for what he calls a “venue inspection” and what I suspect is actually reconnaissance to determine exactly how much his reputation will suffer from having his colleagues attend a barn wedding.
He emerges from his car wearing a bespoke business suit with costly Italian shoes and then stands in our driveway surveying the operation like he’s calculating acceptable losses.
“The barn is quite... rustic,” he says, watching Miguel guide cattle from one pasture to another.
“It’s authentic.” I keep my tone respectful while making my position clear. “This is where Lindsay and I built our relationship and where we’re going to start our marriage.”
He nods slowly, moving his gaze from the livestock to the mountains rising behind the ranch buildings. “I can see why she loves it here. The scope is impressive, even if it’s not what I would have chosen for her.”
“With respect, sir, Lindsay chose this. She chose me, and she chose this life. Your approval would mean everything to both of us, though we’re getting married here regardless.”
Something in my tone must convince him I’m serious because his expression shifts from resignation to something approaching respect. “You’re not going to be intimidated by my objections.”
“No, sir. I’m not.”
“Good.” Henry’s smile is unexpected. “Lindsay needs someone strong enough to stand up to her when she’s wrong and strong enough to stand up for her when she’s right. I believe you’re capable of both.”
The wedding day arrives with an overcast New York morning that hints at rain, but I hope it fails to deliver. I’m in the barn with Miguel and Eddie, making final adjustments to table placement while trying not to obsess over details that are already perfect.
“Nervous?” asks Miguel, noticing that I’ve moved the same flower arrangement three times in the past ten minutes. It was put in place by the very expensive Manhattan florist, and she’ll probably be irritated that someone futzed with it, but I need to keep my hands busy.
“Terrified.” I straighten a chair that doesn’t need straightening. “Not about marrying Lindsay, but about everything going wrong in front of both our families.”
“Mijo, the only thing that matters today is that you and Lindsay promise to love each other.” He settles a weathered hand on my shoulder. “Everything else is just party decorations.”
Emma appears in the barn doorway wearing her bridesmaid dress and carrying coffee. “The bride is getting ready, the photographer is setting up, and your future father-in-law is outside discussing soil conservation techniques with Esperanza Santos.”
“How’s that going?”
“Henry looks like he’s taking notes while Esperanza explains rotational grazing benefits.” Emma grins. “I think she’s winning him over with agricultural science.”
Red Carrington arrives two hours before the ceremony, carrying a leather portfolio and wearing a red dress that somehow manages to be both professional and festive. She finds me adjusting the altar decorations for what’s probably the tenth time this morning.
“Congratulations, Josh. You look handsome.” She gestures to my suit, which Emma insisted on having tailored to perfection. “I brought something for you and Lindsay.”
She opens the portfolio to reveal a photo album documenting our journey from my awkward video consultation to recent pictures of ranch life together. The photos tell the story of two people learning to trust that their true selves could be lovable.