30. Evie #2
His thumb catches a tear on my cheek.
“I promise to love the heart you have. This one.” I place my hand gently over his chest, feeling the steady thud beneath my palm. “This stubborn, imperfect, extraordinary heart that found me.”
Gabriel closes his eyes for one second. When he opens them, he’s crying, and he’s not hiding it.
The officiant looks at him. “Gabriel?”
He clears his throat. “I should have written something.”
I squeeze his hand. “You’ve got this.”
He nods and inhales a shaky breath. “I thought my heart was the worst thing about me. Then you came into a bar and asked me for one night.”
Mom makes a small sound.
I refuse to look at her.
Gabriel’s mouth curves.
“You left before morning.”
“I was busy.”
“Terrified.”
“That too.”
“And I looked for you because one night wasn’t enough.” His hand moves to my stomach. “It turns out forever might not be either.”
My tears spill over.
“I can’t promise you a perfect heart,” he says. “I can’t promise nothing bad will happen. I can’t promise I’ll never scare you again. But I promise to love you through the good and the bad. I promise our daughter will always know how much her father wanted her.”
His mismatched eyes hold mine. “And I promise that whenever you look for me, I’ll be there.”
The officiant gives us a moment.
Then she nods to Gabriel.
He slides the ring onto my finger. The stone inside touches my skin, carrying not just the vows we’re making today but Ruth and Caroline’s legacies. Women who came before me and made impossible things happen with stubbornness, secrets, and apparently, mail-order brides.
I take Gabriel’s ring from Jacob, my hands shaking as I guide it over his knuckle.
“There,” I whisper. “Mine.”
The officiant pronounces us husband and wife.
Gabriel looks at her. “Can I kiss her now?”
She grins. “You may.”
He cups the back of my neck and kisses me in front of everyone. A promise. A beginning.
Max yells, “Again!”
The guests erupt into laughter.
Gabriel laughs against my mouth as I kiss him again.
The reception spreads from the barn into the yard.
Tables sit beneath strings of lights Wire spent half the morning adjusting because apparently electricity is a matter of honor.
Kitty’s miniature forests run down the center of each table.
Shay’s cake remains upright despite Delaney’s three-degree emergency.
Maggie’s buttercream could probably withstand artillery.
Chance watches from the paddock while guests eat, laugh, and move between the barn and porch.
Mom asks Jacob to dance. He hesitates for a second before extending his hand. He’s stiff at first, one hand held too carefully at her waist, until Mom says something that makes him laugh.
Across the yard, Ben holds Max while Henry and Shay dance.
Daniel spins Delaney beneath his arm, earning an offended look when her shoes sink into the grass.
Ethan and Jenna move slowly beside them, Jenna’s head against his shoulder.
Angus doesn’t dance so much as hold Luna while she sways.
Tom attempts something ambitious with Kitty and nearly takes out a chair.
Caleb stands alone near the edge of the lights, his hat is pushed back, his weight is shifted off his bad knee.
A small blonde woman stands near Maggie, listening while her grandmother, Esme, talks with both hands.
Skye MacAllister.
She arrived from Scotland a few weeks ago to be with Esme and take over the clinic after the previous physiotherapist retired.
Her hair is loose around her shoulders, pale gold against the dark blue of her dress.
Small and curved through the hips, with the strong shoulders of someone who spends her days teaching stubborn bodies how to move properly.
Caleb is staring at her.
I nudge Gabriel.
He follows my gaze. “What?”
“Caleb.”
Gabriel looks at his friend, at the way his expression softens slightly when Skye laughs at something Esme says.
“He’s been watching her for five minutes,” I murmur.
“She hurts him for a living.”
“She treats his knee.”
“Same thing.”
As if she feels him staring, Skye turns. Blue eyes meet brown across the yard.
Caleb looks away immediately. Too late.
Skye’s gaze drops to the way he’s favoring his leg, and her mouth flattens. She points at the nearest chair.
Caleb says something we can’t hear.
She folds her arms across her chest and gives him a look.
Caleb sits.
I smile. “Oh, he’s in trouble.”
Gabriel watches Skye approach him. “She’s half his size.”
I smile. “Something tells me she’s never needed size to win an argument.”
We both freeze as a goat bleats beneath the cake table. Slowly, we both look down.
Cheese Puff’s head appears from beneath the linen, a strand of greenery hanging from her mouth.
Kitty makes a strangled noise.
Tom begins backing away.
I point at him. “You.”
“I can explain.”
“There was one rule.”
“He followed me.”
“She’s wearing a ribbon.”
Tom glances down. The goat has a pink ribbon tied around her neck.
Maggie closes her eyes.
Max screams with delight.
The goat lunges for the bottom tier of the cake. Daniel catches the stand. Shay grabs the plate. Wire intercepts Cheese Puff by grabbing her ribbon.
For several seconds, the entire wedding becomes shouting, laughter, frosting, and one determined goat.
Gabriel bends over, laughing so hard he presses a hand to his chest.
My joy vanishes. “Gabe?”
He straightens immediately. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
His hand covers mine and moves it over his heart. Steady. Strong. “I’m sure.”
I’m not sure the fear will ever disappear, but his heart is beating, our family is laughing, and our daughter is kicking beneath my ribs.
This is not the life I imagined when I left Gabriel sleeping before dawn. It’s louder. Messier. More frightening. More beautiful.
He looks at me. “My wife.”
I rise onto my toes and kiss him. “My husband.”
Around us, the lights glow warmer as evening settles over Stoneridge. Every person Ruth somehow knew was coming fills the barn, the yard, the porch, and every empty space this family once carried.
I used to think home was somewhere you stopped moving. I was wrong. Home is the place you are allowed to arrive exactly as you are.
Afraid, imperfect, and still welcomed.