Chapter 34
Oakley
“This isn’t too much?” I ask Wendy, the abundance of rings on my fingers feeling like overkill. Not to mention the bracelets tucked under my sleeves.
“It’s tradition,” she says, twisting one final loop onto my thumb. “There.”
I look at the jewelry covering my hands, over every digit except my left ring finger. My throat gets tight.
“You didn’t want to help your dad get ready?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, her brown hair held half back with pins, the rest in a subtle curl. “Colton’s got him.”
Taking a step back, she sweeps her gaze over me. From my freshly cleaned boots, to my slacks and light tan jacket. The sprig of lavender in my breast pocket. The bolo tie Lawson insisted on because we’re not fancy, Oak.
My hair is neatly tidied. My beard trimmed. Every inch of me is pressed and polished. Not to mention adorned now that Wendy is through with me.
“You look great,” she says, seeming as if she’s trying not to cry.
“Shit, kid.”
“Language,” she mumbles.
I bark a laugh, holding out my arms. Wendy steps into them, hugging me back, her light purple dress covered in a thick white coat befitting the weather.
Marigold sticks her head into the room, expression soft. “It’s time.”
With a nod, Wendy and I disentangle, the three of us making our way toward the back door.
Winter is blanketing Darling Ranch like a scene out of a postcard.
The ground is covered in fluffy white, new snow having dropped while we were sleeping.
Chairs are set out not far off, the woods near the petting farm their backdrop.
One or more of the Darlings already shoveled a path through the snow, and footprints line the trail from friends and family who are waiting.
But it’s the man standing before it all that snags my attention.
Lawson’s slacks and jacket are an earthy brown, darker than my tan.
Like me, he’s wearing a bolo tie, the sight of it making my throat close up for no conceivable reason, and a sprig of lavender adorns his breast. His belt buckle is showing, his hands are tucked in his pockets, and his hair, like usual, is sitting perfectly in place.
I’ve seen this man thousands of ways over our decades of life. I’ve seen him primped. Seen him wearing his rattiest sweats. I’ve seen him nude, wearing nothing at all.
But I’ve never seen him waiting to walk down the aisle with me.
Not until today.
My eyes prick as I join him, Wendy giving her dad a final hug and whispering something that has him nodding before she goes to take her seat. Our parents are standing nearby, but they don’t interrupt, giving us a moment before the ceremony begins.
“Hi,” I manage, the snow falling gently around us, dusting Lawson’s shoulders and hair.
His smile is warm, his inhale stuttering as his gaze runs over me. “You look real good, Oak.”
“You think so? Somebody wouldn’t let me put on a fancy tie.”
“You don’t need it,” he says seriously. “I like you best like this.”
“Looking like a cowboy?” I tease.
“Looking at home,” he replies, effectively shutting me up. Lawson reaches for my bolo tie, fist curling around the cords as he tugs me closer.
“Not sure you’re supposed to kiss me yet,” I whisper.
He huffs a small breath. “You gonna complain if I do?”
“Nope. Carry on.”
Lawson’s lips curl gently against my own, warm and familiar as he steals the breath from my lungs. It’s not lascivious or brash. But it’s demanding as Lawson’s grip holds me in place, the same way he’s always held me close.
When he loosens his fist and draws back, his whiskey eyes snag my own.
“I’m gonna be the best husband you’ll ever have,” I promise him hoarsely.
He snorts. “The only, Oak.”
I nod in a jerk.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Damn right I am.”
Lawson clasps his hand with mine, the clink of my jewelry on his making me laugh.
He shoots me a wink as we get into place, our guests looking back at us now as music begins to play.
Marigold and Hank walk down the aisle first, followed by my parents.
It was our way of honoring tradition, just a little bit different.
There’s no bride to give away today, but having our families here to celebrate with us means a lot.
Our parents take their seats in the front row, and Lawson looks over at me.
Together, we begin the journey down the aisle.
The snow is soft underfoot, Lawson’s hand snug in mine.
We split apart only once we reach the officiant, Lawson looking a dream as the snow falls around him like twinkling pixie dust.
The thought has a smile curving my lips.
Our ceremony is brief. We didn’t want to keep folks out in the cold for long. But every minute of it is a minute I treasure, this day one I’ve wanted for myself all my life. At times, when my prior relationships came to an end, I wondered if I’d ever actually get it. A wedding of my own.
A person all my own.
When the officiant guides me to say my vows, I have to clear my throat a couple times before I can speak.
“Law. When we were kids, I spent a lot of time on this land with you. These woods beside us housed a good many adventures. As we got older, those adventures looked a little different. But through it all, I never lost you.”
I inhale a winter-cold breath to compose myself.
“We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. I never doubted you’d be a part of my life, always, but having the chance to fall in love with you? Having you love me back? I never saw that coming.”
Lawson smiles softly, a sheen in his eyes that I’m sure mirrors my own.
“I made you a promise long ago,” I remind him. “The two of us. Forever. It’s a promise I’ll make again and again, in sickness, in health, on our good days and our bad. Nothing could change the fact that my heart belongs to yours, Lawson Darling. From saddle to sunup, and all the hours in between.”
He lets out a quiet breath at his own words returned to him, the expression on his face so full of love I can feel it in my chest. The officiant gives him a nod, and Lawson begins his own vows, his voice soothing and deep.
“Oakley. There’s this line in the original Peter Pan story that’s always stuck with me. ‘To die will be an awfully big adventure.’ That passage got rewritten a lot in later adaptations. To live, they said, would be the adventure. Not to die. But I think they completely missed the point.”
Lawson’s eyes hold mine as he draws in a breath.
“There was one thing Peter could never do. Grow up. So what bigger adventure would there be than to grow old for a person who’s incapable of it?
It was never about death. It was about living.
I’ve always wanted to grow old with you, Oak.
To live my life at your side. And now, I’ll have the chance to. ”
My own breath is choppy as Lawson sends me a gentle smile.
“I’m not afraid of growing older. Every year we have waiting is another to love you. It will be my honor, Oakley Beaumont, to live the rest of my days as your husband, your friend, your fellow lost boy. Not a single daydream could compare to the life I know I’ll have with you.”
I blink back tears as I reach for Lawson’s hand. His fingers twine with mine, the officiant walking us through our I dos. The ring he slips onto my only empty finger is brushed gold. His is the same.
I watch Lawson through the sparkling snow that falls featherlight from the sky. When we’re announced husband and husband, it’s on the softest breath. Lawson’s. My own.
His kiss this time is curved around a smile. It’s calm, and it’s happy, and I can feel myself trembling in response, even as my chest lights with a warmth I know isn’t going anywhere. Our family claps. Our friends, too.
Lawson and I return down the aisle hand in hand as the music starts up again. My nose is cold, but my smile couldn’t get wider.
We’re the first to walk into the ranch house, but our guests aren’t far behind us, ready, I’m sure, to get out of the cold. Appetizers are already set out in the dining room. Drinks, as well. Lawson tugs me past it all.
I’m about to open my mouth and tease him for wanting to get me alone so soon when we stop in front of the kitchen and set eyes on the absolute mayhem inside.
Lawson and I stare as one at Belladonna, my damn cow, who’s managed to spread our wedding cake over just about every surface in the room, herself included.
She freezes when she sees us watching her, and then she streaks past.
I nearly fall on my ass as her hip hits my leg, startled gasps ringing out from the dining room as Bell races inside. Something topples. Something else crashes. There’s frosting smeared across my pants.
“Oakley…” Lawson says, voice steady.
I suck in a breath. “Who the hell brought my cow to the wedding?”
There’s a grunted, “Got her,” I think is Jackson and then all is quiet.
“I thought it’d be a good surprise!” Colton finally calls. “She was shut in the mudroom.”
I speak past gritted teeth. “Clearly, she got out.”
“I, uh… Did she eat the cake?” Colton asks.
Marigold is the first around the corner into the hall, her hand flying in front of her mouth when she sees the state of the kitchen.
She starts to laugh, my mom the next to join us.
Sienna Beaumont takes in the chaos with calculating eyes before shedding her coat, rolling up the sleeves of her dress, and stepping forward.
“Marigold,” she says. “Would you kindly show me where you keep the aprons?”
Mrs. Darling follows my mom into the kitchen, opening up a cupboard. “Right here. Colton! You’re on cleanup. We’ve got a cake to bake.”
Lawson’s brother looks despondent as he steps into the hall. “How’d she get out?”
“That cow,” I say evenly, “is the worst.”
Lawson clasps the back of my neck, pulling my focus. I’m not expecting the cake he smashes down my face. There’s another gasp, and more footsteps join us.
“Holy shit,” Remi says in awe.
“There was cow drool on that,” I put in, horrified.
Lawson’s laugh is as bright as the snow outside. He bends over, clutching his side, the frosting on his hand leaving a white patch on his suit jacket. But it’s the joy in his eyes that has my heart pattering anew.
I pull him upright, wiping my face against his before he can protest. He doesn’t once stop laughing, his lips finding mine through the mess of frosting and cake. It’s horrible and wonderful and the same fireworks I felt the first time my lips met his.
I don’t care about the, “Gross,” Remi affectionately mumbles. Or the fact that our reception got upended by a cow. I barely hear Ash declaring he’ll get the frosting started or notice the folks moving around us to help set the house to rights.
There’s only Lawson, who once gave me a thimble, a gift so much bigger than I ever knew it’d be. It was love, plain and simple. A piece of his heart he promised to me.
Promises don’t always keep.
But Lawson’s? Him and me?
It’s a fairy tale that has nothing to do with make-believe.
“Love you, hubby,” I whisper against Lawson’s lips.
He smiles. Oh, how he smiles. “Oak?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me again? And this time, don’t stop.”
And what can I possibly do but give my husband exactly what he wants? A kiss.
His first.
His last.
“Anything you want, princess. I’m yours.”