Chapter 39
Little Happiness
Fenella
The apartment door opens and Laird walks in. My mouth parts a little, my eyes widen. My forehead tightens as he steps inside while I’m putting just-washed fruit into the fridge. I glance at the clock on the table. It’s two p.m.
“Fenella,” he says in that low voice of his.
He comes straight to the kitchen. I set my glass of water on the dining table. His face looks different today. There’s a hint of a smile, but his eyes are dark, unreadable, like he’s holding something behind them.
“You’re home early,” I say with a soft laugh.
He drops his backpack on the floor and wraps his arms around me. His whole body towers over mine, warm and steady as he pulls me in. I blink, but I don’t pull away. My arms stay around his back.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper into his ear.
By now I know this kind of hug. Whenever something hits him, good or bad, he always comes here. To me. To us. He once said hugs flip a switch in his brain that forces happy chemicals out, like a reflex.
He doesn’t answer. He loosens his hold and looks at me, eyes still shadowed. His hands stay warm on my arms. “Did you eat your lunch course?” he asks quietly.
I sigh with a little snort. “Yeah, but I only ate a piece of that canapé and a bite of the meat. And I bet it’s overpriced.”
“That’s it?” he frowns.
“Now that you say it, I’m starving. Did you eat?”
We don’t talk about this afternoon. Not Hugo Evans. Not a hint of it. Maybe he’s not ready, and like always with him, I wait until he brings it up.
“How about we go out to eat?” he says.
“Perfect. What’re you thinking?” I rest both hands on his chest.
“How about…” Laird cups my face with both hands and looks into my eyes. “We grab burgers down the street and eat them in the park.”
“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea. I love it.” I kiss him.
His hands stay on my face. His lips stay on mine. He doesn’t let me go. We stand there in the kitchen, kissing softly, warm and slow.
My hands settle on his firm chest. I can feel his heartbeat under my palm. I’m just grateful we’re alive.
“Laird,” I whisper, pulling back a little.
“Hm?”
“Take me to the bed?”
“Hm, no.”
I frown. “Why?”
“I wanna eat in the park with you. That’s why.” He kisses my cheek, breathes in deep, and steps back. “Come on.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the apartment.
That is rare. Usually, he doesn’t turn it down when we have the chance. Something in him feels different today, but not in a bad way. My chest tightens for a second, a flicker of fear I wish I could ignore. What if his dad messed with his head again?
But his gestures stay calm, steady, grounding. And there’s this strange inner peace in his eyes, like he’s holding something big. His hand wraps around mine, firm and reassuring. It makes me trust him, whatever comes next.
We grab burgers, Coke, and fries and sit under a shady tree in the park. I sink into the grass against his side, feeling the warmth of his arm around my waist. We’re always happy watching the dry grass turn green, a sign spring is coming. A sign of hope.
The air’s still cold and windy, but at least it’s not raining the way it did last night. Our food’s gone now, nothing left but crumpled wrappers inside the paper bag. We’ll throw them out when we leave, but neither of us wants to get up yet. We wanna stay and soak in the quiet afternoon.
Far ahead, small kids run onto the field. They start tossing the ball and warming up before their Little League coach shows.
“You really love it here. Is it because you get to watch Little League?” I ask.
“Yup. They remind me of the easy days when we were kids.” He wraps an arm around my waist and I lean back against his chest.
“It’s wild how those days feel like yesterday. If you could go back, would you?” I look up at the side of his face.
“No.”
My eyes widen. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t wanna see you in that horrible thick makeup again.” He chuckles.
“Oh hell no. You jerk. I told you not to bring that up again.” I slap his chest lightly and pull away to sit up. He laughs, and I can practically hear the grin in his voice. I fold my arms and look away.
“You’re still childish, you know that? Getting annoyed over a little teasing.” He smiles on my right side.
I turn my face left, lips tight. I don’t wanna talk to him. Well… maybe just for show.
“Come on, admit it. It was kinda funny,” he says, switching to my left side.
“I just don’t like it when you keep bringing up people’s embarrassing stuff from the past,” I snap, still facing away.
“That’s too bad. Guess you’ll have to deal with the fact that I’m gonna use that against you every day for the rest of our lives.”
“What the hell are—”
I stop. Blink. My breath catches and freezes in my throat. Heart sinks, pulse skipping. My hands tremble on my lap, a cold tingling crawling from stomach down to legs. Every muscle turns to jelly, as if gravity itself grew heavier.
“Laird?” I whisper.
He’s holding a small black velvet box right in front of me. Closed, but unmistakable. Everybody knows that shape.
“Fenella,” he whispers into my ear.
He pulls back and sits beside me. I look right into his green eyes catching the afternoon sun. My chest tightens, my stomach flips, and for a second the world feels like it’s holding its breath.
“Will you marry me?”
My hands fly to my mouth, covering my open jaw. My stomach twists, my heart hammers in my chest. I get numb all over me.
The world freezes completely, like the air itself has disappeared. My fingers tremble against my lips. He pulls the lid up slowly and shows me the diamond ring.
“I’ve never done anything this impulsive in my life. You know what, I quit the law firm today.”
“What?” I choke on air, my chest tightening so much it hurts. “You quit? For real?”
“Yes. I ran to the jewelry store and bought whichever ring had the biggest diamond in your size they already had. It’s not Prestishe, I didn’t buy it with some unlimited platinum black credit card, and we're not in a skyscraper three Michelin star restaurant, but I hope you don’t mind.”
“Laird…” I cover my mouth again. My chest shakes. I can’t find words. Too much news. And the ring. God, the ring is stunning.
“I know it’s probably too soon for you. But all I can think about is how I’m finally free to choose my life without my father controlling everything.
You’re the symbol of that freedom. You’re my dream girl, my Lady Liberty.
” His lips tremble. He pulls a breath. “So please. Tell me I wasn’t wrong to trust my instincts and jump into a new life with you. ”
“No planning at all?” I whisper, searching his eyes.
“No.” He shakes his head.
“Oh baby,” I exhale.
“What do you say?” he asks with a serious look in his eyes, like he’s genuinely afraid I might say no.
I don’t even notice the tears until everything blurs. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him.
“Yes. What else can I say? Yes.” I laugh and cry at the same time.
“Thank God.” He exhales and kisses me again.
I pull him close, kissing him back, not caring about the people watching from far away. All that matters is how warm his kiss is and how much happiness it brings into my life.
“I love you, Laird.”
“I love you more.”
* * *
“Honey, you look absolutely stunning,” my mother says.
“Thanks, Mom.” I beam the moment her compliment lands. She hands me a bouquet of pink, red, and white flowers. I take it and hold it carefully in front of me.
“I still can’t believe we pulled this off in just a couple of weeks.” She shakes her head, eyes wide.
“We even thought about getting married the day after he proposed, but then I remembered you saying you wanted everything prepared.”
I press my lips into a thin smile. If only I hadn’t stopped Laird that day, we would’ve sprinted to the nearest chapel we could find. But no—I still had my mom in my mind.
“Of course! I only get one chance because you’re my only daughter.” She clasps my satin-clad hands, holding them too tight. “I hope the fruit tarts and crab cakes are enough for the guests.”
“It’s okay, Mom. If we run out, we can stuff them with the wedding cake. That five-tier monster you ordered exists for a reason.”
“You’re right. And thank God Mrs. Maddox took the order.” She sighs, then studies my face with a soft smile. Her thumb strokes my ear with that motherly tenderness that always sneaks up on me.
“Oh, I wish your father could see you, even if he can’t walk you down the aisle.” She adjusts my veil, her breath unsteady. Her eyes shimmer in the morning light. She’s seconds from crying.
“It’s okay. Golden is good enough for me. I still can’t believe he came all the way to Boston just to walk me down the aisle.”
I glance at the old man in the black suit with a white flower on his lapel. He stands with a few relatives, checking on us every few seconds.
“How’d you convince him?” I tilt my head.
“All he wanted was a homemade dinner.” She laughs, cheeks turning pink—not too pink, but enough to betray her. Her laugh is crisp and shy, a little too bright for her age. Paired with the special cookies she baked for him, yeah… there’s more.
“Just you and him?”
“That’s what he asked.” Her eyes flicker with excitement she tries and fails to hide.
“You two would be cute. You should… you know. Go for it.” I shrug.
“Go for what?” She startles, then lets out a tiny embarrassed laugh.
“For once, Mom. Follow your heart.”
“Oh, hush.” She waves me off, but her smile gives her away.
“Are you ready? Everyone’s waiting,” Mr. Golden says as he walks toward us.
“Oh, okay. Let’s go.” I exhale a deep breath.
“Bless you, my pretty baby.” My mother kisses my forehead, hugging me tight.
“Thank you, Mom.” I smile wide, chest pounding inside the corset. Everything is suddenly too real, too fast, too perfect.
“You can come sit beside me once you’re done walking,” she says to him with bated breath.
“Sure. Go ahead first,” he replies with a small smile.
She walks briskly to the front row on the left. His eyes follow her back, quiet and hopeful. Once she sits, he turns back to me.
“Ready?” He raises his arm and clears his throat.
“Yeah.”
I take his arm and we step out of the waiting room. Ever since my father passed, I thought I’d have to walk alone. And while I could’ve done it, having a father figure beside me feels like crucial support—especially when my legs are weak and shaking.
Laird stands at the altar. His smile glows. His dark blond hair is neatly styled, tux perfectly fitted, white flower pinned to his pocket. Broad shoulders. Tall frame. Women would sprint if they had the nerve.
His emerald eyes lock on me, and a brief flash of prom night hits me. Familiar. Warm. He’s still devilishly handsome. Still the man I’ve loved all my life.
Matthew stands beside him as best man, holding the rings. Jessy is in a black suit as my man of honor. Lloyd sits in the front row.
All of them look at me with bright smiles matching my own. Guests are few—neighbors, relatives, close family. Two pianists and a violinist play a romantic song.
It’s an intimate wedding. Not the grand designer-gown wedding I once imagined. I’m wearing my mother’s dress with pearlized lace and tulle modifications. My white shoes are thrifted. No celebrity vibe, no haters, no paparazzi.
I walk down the aisle slowly, floating almost. Step after step closer to Laird until I’m finally beside him, exactly as I always pictured.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Golden. He nods and sits next to my mother.
The pastor reads holy verses. When he asks if anyone objects, my heart slams against my ribs. I brace for Alan, Amy, or Peter to burst in. Thank goodness, no one does. And there’s no Hugo Evans in sight.
The ceremony flows into the vows. I hand my bouquet to Jessy, who looks seconds from squealing. We share a quiet laugh before I steady myself.
Laird clasps both my hands. My smile won’t leave. My cheeks warm. I breathe in, then out.
“I, Laird Evans, take you, Fenella Baxter…” His voice is steady and rich, melting straight into my chest.
When it’s my turn, my eyes heat and my voice catches. A twist spirals through my stomach. The moment is carved into my soul. It’s all too bright, too real. I will remember the mosaic light on his face forever. I blink fast, holding back tears. Sniffs echo in the room, but I don’t break.
Laird squeezes my hands and gives them a playful shake. “You got this, baby,” he whispers.
A tiny laugh escapes me. I stand straighter and meet his gaze.
“I take you to be my husband…” My voice softens but holds steady through every word.
He sighs in relief, takes the ring from Matthew, and slips it onto my finger. With the priest’s permission, he lifts his hands to my waist. Mine slide around his neck.
His lips touch mine softly—light, steady, gentle. Not heated. Not rushed. Just enough to make my heart flutter and a sigh slip out. Something I’ve always imagined and something I’ll always cherish.
And in that moment, I know we’ll be okay as long as we’re together.