Epilogue
Anthony
8 months later
Who knew an Iowa was so beautiful? Okay, so there have been both a crop-damaging blizzard and two tornados already—and it’s only April.
Technicalities. Wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.
The point is, my beautiful bride is sweeping down the aisle of Red Rock Place’s largest church—not Lottie’s historic house of worship. It wouldn’t hold half the town, and that’s how many people are here to witness my vows. But I really don’t care who else is here. My eyes are trained on Lottie alone. Easton is her escort, and while I love the guy like the brother I never had, I’ve had enough of Easton and his legal issues lately. I just want Lottie.
Her cheeks delightfully pink, she comes to a stop before me. Her friends and sisters form an arch on one side—except for the one off on the West Coast. Sore topic in the family. On my side, Easton takes his place as best man, and beside him are two friends. My friends.
Yeah, you heard that. This lawyer has himself some real friends. Not work associates—since I manage with just one legal assistant now, thank you very much. I could kick myself for all the years I worked myself into misery trying to be happy when all I needed was a move to Iowa, but I’ve decided to leave the past behind me. The present is much more enticing.
Literally.
Lottie’s rosy lips are tipping into my favorite smile as I reach for her free hand. Gracefully, she leans to the side, slipping her lilac-laden bouquet to the maid of honor. Amelia dabs at her eyes, accepting the flowers. Now I have both of Lottie’s hands. Not sure I’ll ever let go.
The minister talks—and talks. I’m in a good place with God now. A growing place. I hear Him every day, calling me higher. He will always have something better for me to become, and I love the journey. But at this point—right now—I’d like to think God understands that I just want to marry this tiny, feisty woman who grabbed my heart with both hands nearly the moment I dared step foot in her yard last summer.
Best move ever.
“Anthony, you may kiss your bride.”
Did I pass the entire marital service smiling stupidly into Lottie’s gorgeous baby blues? Yep. I’ll watch the wedding video later, see what I missed. Nothing more important than what I got—the endless love overflowing from Lottie’s eyes. Not breaking that contact, I take her face with both hands and kiss her good. Maybe we go at it a little too long—it happens—or maybe Felicity’s just being Fel—but when I hear loud gagging sounds from the front row where our flower girl has a seat, I know it’s time to quit.
For now.
“To be continued,” I whisper as I pull back to cheers, whistles, and more than one catcall.
What? Can’t a guy kiss his wife these days?
I clasp my bride’s hand as we make our way down the aisle.
“That was quite the kiss there, Suits,” she says the moment we pass the doors of the sanctuary. “Thought I’d run while I had the last chance?”
“No way. You’ve been a goner since day two.”
Those don’t-mess-with-me eyebrows rise. “Not day one?”
“Nope. You didn’t trust the suit.”
There’s her laugh, the one I could record and listen to on repeat, if that weren’t insanely creepy. I still might one day.
“You got that right.” Her eyes rake over me playfully. “I see not much has changed.”
I still go to work every day in dress slacks. Big deal. But I’ve ditched the coat, and most days, the tie. Ties are for court. And suits… I leave that for weddings, but even then I’m overdressed.
Let’s just say, this is the first time I’ve worn my best Armani suit since I moved to Iowa.
We drive over to the reception in the—you guessed it—VFW hall, and the place is decked out. Lottie’s family knows how to pull off an event, let me tell you.
Lottie and I move from table to table, greeting our guests. By the time we get back to the bridal party table for the entrée—catered from Des Moines, because I have my limits—Easton is slouched in his seat beside mine, fist to face, elbow to table, dejection in his stance. My heart goes out to him. He’s in some fresh hot water, and I’ve done what I can to help him out. The rest is up to God.
“Cheer up, man.” I clap him on the shoulder. “It’ll all work out.”
He gives me a look that could rival Lottie at her maddest. “Dishing out platitudes, Fancy Pants? Didn’t think you lawyers had that in you.”
So, he’s a little bitter. “I could always sic a cow on you.”
Finally, a hint of a smile. “Would be better company than you.”
He seems to snap out of his funk suddenly, maybe due to the young woman eying him without subtlety from her table across the room.
“Who’s that?” I nudge Lottie, speaking quietly.
She doesn’t hide her distaste. “His ex. No idea who invited her, but it wasn’t me.”
“Good ex?” I’m thinking no, not with that nose-crinkling going on in Lottie’s face.
“Bad ex.”
As if Easton needs more trouble. But that’s on him. I have…other things on my mind. Like the woman beside me.
“You know, I thought you were smoking hot in pink last summer, but this white… I like it.”
If looks could kill. “I hate white. Too hard to keep clean. This is the only day you’ll catch me in it.”
I wink. “Good thing we have a photographer.” Also from Des Moines. I’ve changed a lot, but I’m still a city boy through and through. I go to Des Moines a lot. A lot a lot. Lottie doesn’t get it. But she gets me. And that’s all I need.
“Dance with me.” The evening has worn on, and Felicity is passed out, her head flopped on the table at the far end beside Blaine. She’ll spend the next few days with her grandma while Lottie and I…
Nope, not going there. Not yet.
On the dance floor, we do a slow turn past my mom. Wait, she’s dancing? I blink and do a quick headshake. My mom knows how to dance? And hold a sec, she’s dancing with the minister?!
“Breathe, Anthony,” Lottie says, laughter in her voice. “It’s just a dance.”
Yeah, well, it better stay that way. I’m all for change, but there’s only so much I can handle. My mom doing anything more than dancing with a man? That’s more than I can handle.
I see Aunt Doris on the sidelines. If I catch her dancing, I’m going to keel over, and I really want to make it to my wedding night and beyond.
Far beyond.
I want to spend a lifetime with Lottie.
In fact, I’ll do just that. Because with her is where I belong.