Chapter Thirty-Three
Lily
S parrow and Rafe are still on their honeymoon in Paris. I’m trying to keep my crap together over the fact that I’ve got Graham back in my life (like, really). A fact he’s very willing to remind me of every chance he gets. He says it’s because we’ve missed too many kisses during our time apart. He calculated (of course he did) an approximate number of missed opportunities to show his affection. My now-swollen lips and giddy (yes, giddy) heart says: Noted.
Today, Graham and I drove to a wildflower field (yes, another one), this time near a castle. A real-life castle because the wild thing about New England is that you’ll find seemingly random castles springing up throughout the region. It’s as if people long ago wanted a piece of Europe here for themselves. I love it.
As soon as our plans were made, all I could picture was a dress that caught my eye in All Sewn Up. The gown was hovering in the corner during my bridesmaid dress fitting. I noticed it when Graham was (kindly) helping me out of my dress—which sounds a lot dirtier than it was. Yesterday, I rushed in, purchased it, and spent all night sewing black satin ribbon onto the edges and around the waist to make a wrapped look I’m obsessed with.
There was no way I was going to get married today without a hint of black. That color is my love language.
Of course, Graham already had a tux because he’s Graham. I called Pastor Wilfred at five-thirty this morning and asked if he was available to meet us at “the castle” (I sent him the address, don’t worry) late this afternoon, just before sunset. I think he thought I was on something, but when I told him Graham and I plan to get married, he was overjoyed.
I also called and begged the people who manage said castle to let us stand outside of it for thirty minutes. I may have bribed them with pastries. The fun thing about our state is that we don’t need witnesses to get married, and there is no waiting period before they issue you a marriage license. This morning, when we met for croissants and cake, we stopped at the town clerk’s office (I woke him up this morning too, thank you very much), and then Graham kissed me in a way that told me just how much he’s willing to be my husband for the rest of my life. I can still feel the delectable scratch of his beard and smell the trace of mint from his beard oil.
I keep having moments where I bite my nails with a smile and nearly squeal. I know Sparrow would want to be here if she could, but I also know there’s no way I’m spending another day without being able to call him my husband. She knows me enough to know what this means to me.
My parents were less than thrilled, but it feels like a relief not to feel the weight of it like I once feared. Yesterday afternoon, I called my parents, and before tapping on their contact information to place a video call, Graham gently held my free hand and asked if I was ready to announce my love for him. Little did he realize I was ready to shout it from the rooftops. (Or from the couch of my apartment, which resulted in Mr. Crumbs banging the end of his broom on his ceiling. He was yelling at me to stop my shenanigans, and I was stomping my feet to get him to stop while also telling him where he could send a wedding gift. It wasn’t somewhere nice.)
After my liberating call during which Graham was announced as my soon-to-be husband and so much more than a friend, my parents said they’d love to get us monogrammed towels. I didn’t even know those still existed. But I remembered they were what my parents always had hanging in their bathroom when I was a young girl, and so I’m choosing to take it as a sign that they know this is the real deal. My parents and I may not ever be what I had hoped, but allowing myself to love Graham is allowing me to dream of him with me for always, believing that we will get to share our lives. And that feels worth celebrating.
Thankfully, Ivy was free when I banged on her door late last night. She stayed with me overnight, gave me the best send-off possible while we ate pizza and chocolate, and even helped me get ready this morning while Grey attended a conference for booksellers. I invited her to come to our ceremony, of course. She said that, while she’d love to, if the whole town isn’t in on it, she thinks this should be a sacred moment for Graham and me. She also mentioned that her boyfriend is now a nutcracker . . . as in, since she’s already dreaming of the choreography for her studio’s Christmas performance, she won’t have time for anything else. “Waltz of the Flowers” will be keeping her up from now until New Year's.
As I sat in front of a makeshift mirror propped against one of my walls, and Ivy helped to put my hair into the highest ponytail possible, she asked me, “Do you think we have to search for love, or does love know where to find us?”
I’ve always loved all versions of Cinderella , but when it comes to Graham and me, even though I don’t have stepsisters or talk to mice, I recognize that the clock once struck midnight on our time together. And it seemed I loved my shoes too much to have left a slipper behind. Still, he somehow knew where to find me.
Now, as I wait in the middle of a field, my dress clinging sweetly to my curves in the wind, the cool breeze pulsing through the ends of my hair and wrapping me in a hug, I’m finally ready to step into tomorrow with hope.
Sensing his presence, I turn to see Graham walking across the field in his tux, chamomile tucked into his suit pocket like a pocket square. My heart picks up at the determination evident on his face, at the gentle way his eyes caress me, his grin radiant. While a walk across the field from a Regency man is worth swooning over, Graham walking toward me with such affection on his face is worth committing my life to. Because he knows what it is to love me even when I don’t know how to receive it. And I love him for it. So much that I could burst.
“Hi, my little wildflower,” he says softly when he’s close enough .
It’s a new nickname, and I immediately decide it’s the inspiration for my next tattoo. I think I could have it etched across my ribs and be happy with it always. He pauses as if he doesn’t know if he can touch me or if this is all a dream we’ll both wake up from in the morning. We’ve both had enough nightmares apart to want to do everything we can to stay in a dream state for the rest of our days.
“Lily, you’re my heart. You’ve become all of it.”
He repeats the words that have stayed with me since LA and now mean everything to me. There may be a hint of a sting hearing the phrase from long ago, but there’s no pain this time. He’s making things right between us with his words, showing me that everything we’ve shared has forged something immovable. We’ve built our own castle, if you will.
“Good,” I whisper.
A tear slips down my cheeks as he stands close to me. His arms wrap around my waist to pull me against him. I feel the warmth of his hand through the satin where it rests on my lower back. The texture of his suit against my cheek is soft. He smells like fresh air and a place I can breathe freely until I run out of time. With him, I know that, no matter how life unfolds, no matter where I wander, I have a home to come back to.
“Please, just . . . keep being patient with me?”
I scrunch my nose to hold the emotion at bay as I lift my arms to wrap them around his neck, and he nods. The buttons of his suit jacket push into the fabric near my ribs, yet I pull him even closer still. I never want to let him go. I marvel at the love he holds for me. He’s chosen me every time. And I choose him now, forever .
“So, are we really doing this thing?” I whisper into his ear. “Because you’re it for me, got it?” I manage to get the words out, and the rightness of them sinks deep.
His beard sends shivers down my spine as he nuzzles into my neck, the warmth of his lips leaving a little trail of fire that descends into my bones. “I do now.”