19. Chapter 19
Harriet
Wedding planning had been a whirlwind. Exactly four months after Kwemby proposed, we’re here. Tomorrow is our wedding day; today is the rehearsal.
I stand at the back of the garden with my bare hands clasped together.
My left ring finger is empty, though a new one will replace it tomorrow.
The white folding chairs form perfect rows down the center aisle, each one tied with a thick teal ribbon with ends that flutter in the spring breeze.
Beyond them is a gorgeous handcrafted wooden arch made by a carpenter named Jake Matthews.
My cherry red dress—not white, because I’m fifty and I’ve earned the right to wear whatever color I want—falls to a few inches above my knees. It’s a quarter-length sleeve with a modest scoop neck and a small black bow.
At the arch, Kwemby adjusts his lapel. His handsome suit fits perfectly across his shoulders, the micro-fabric shirt underneath his jacket crisp. Our eyes meet across the garden, and his mouth curves into a smile.
The twins stand to the side of the arch, one on each side.
Maren is in a teal blue dress with her hair pulled back, while Coris is in a matching one with her hair loose around her shoulders.
They look like adults, rather than the bratty young adults who rolled their eyes at family dinners and who stood on Gary’s deck watching their mother’s previous marriage fall apart.
They watch me, faces set in identical expressions of pride.
“It’s a small group tomorrow,” the officiant says, breaking the silence.
She’s a woman in her forties with short gray hair and a kind smile, dressed in a simple skirt and blazer.
“Harriet, you’ll enter from here, slowly walk down the aisle and meet Kwemby at the arch.
Then, together, you’ll take a few steps forward until you’re just past it.
Once you reach this tiny ‘x’ here”—she points out the barely there mark so we know where to stop—“You’ll stand facing each other, hands joined.
I’ll ask you to exchange vows, you’ll say ‘I do,’ and then we’ll wrap it up with a kiss. ”
Over two years ago, I was sitting on a park bench, calling a divorce lawyer, telling a stranger I wanted to end a twenty-five-year marriage.
Now I’m standing in a garden redoing the whole marriage thing, except he’s the one I should have started with.
What a difference time makes. I’ve gone from one man who can’t spare me a second to a man who waited three decades for me.
“We’re ready to start,” the officiant says, stepping to the side. “Harriet, whenever you’re ready.”
In the garden, there’s only the sound of the wind in the trees. I take a deep breath, feeling my chest expand with the effort. One step, then another, my feet carrying me down the aisle between the rows of empty chairs.
Rehearsal finishes with no complication. We’re still outside, standing in a small circle. That is, until I see Buck at the edge of the garden, one hand on the gate, the other shoved into the pocket of his jeans.
Naturally, I freeze, as does everyone else.
Eyes ringed with shadows, he stands with his hair sticking straight up. When we divorced, he still had a full head of it, but now it’s thinning. He watches us for a long moment, his expression one I’ve never seen from him before. He may be the twins’ dad, but I didn’t invite him.
Kwemby squeezes my shoulder in question. Maren’s jaw tightens, her hand coming up to Coris’s arm. Coris takes a half-step forward, her posture protective. I raise one hand, palm out, and they all hold. This is mine to handle.
Buck walks to me slowly, as if afraid a sudden movement might break whatever is keeping me here.
Stopping a few feet short, he’s close enough that I can see the stubble along his jaw.
He doesn’t so much as glance at my future husband, nor does he acknowledge the twins.
His gaze stays locked on me, trying to memorize every single line across my face.
It was Buck who carved the deep grooves of worry between my brows, while the softer crinkles around my eyes belong entirely to the laughter Kwemby has restored to me over the last two years.
“I know I have no right to be here,” Buck says, his voice low. “But I needed you to hear me say it directly.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “For years I was a jerk. I took you for granted. I manipulated you.”
Behind me, everyone is painfully quiet. I think of all the years I spent with this man. Of the meals I cooked and the fights I smoothed over and the apologies I made for needing things he wouldn’t give.
“I accept your apology,” I say.
Relief flashes across his face and his shoulders ease.
“Don’t get me wrong though, I don’t forgive you,” I continue, talking straight through his false moment of hope. “What you did—drugging me, and treating me poorly—will never be forgiven.”
His face settles into neutrality, the hope gone as quickly as it appeared. He nods once, accepting my words without argument. That’s a first for him.
“I know,” he says. He stares at the grass, his shoulders hunching. “The girls won’t take my calls. My brother won’t even look at me. I’m completely alone, Harriet. Even at work, I’m a pariah. I kept the job, but I lost everyone’s respect.”
He finally glances at my fiancé. I notice a flicker of raw envy crossing Buck’s face before it settles back into defeat.
“I see the way you look at him,” Buck says, his voice barely a rasp. “I’d give anything to go back to the days when you looked at me like that. Before I ruined everything.”
“Frankly, Buck, I don’t care and I’d like you to leave now,” I say, my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart. “I don’t care if the no contact order has expired. This is a private moment for my family and me, and you’re not welcome here.”
Since I don’t care why he’s here, I don’t bother asking. Maybe he wanted me to take him back, or he’s doing some sort of redemption arc. Whatever the reason, he can take it and—excuse my language on such an otherwise lovely day—shove it straight up his ass.
“Sorry. I won’t bother you again.”
“See that you don’t,” I say.
Before he walks back the way he came, his brows knit in what appears to be hurt. It may be vindictive, but I’ve felt how he’s feeling for the entirety of our marriage; he can feel that way now. That’s on him.
The gate clicks shut behind him. I straighten my shoulders, ready to move on with my day. Aside from thinking about my girls, I doubt I’ll be thinking of Buck again.
Kwemby is the first to talk after Buck leaves. “You okay?”
“Yes. I’ve already moved on and have no interest in doing whatever it is he wants me to do.”
Kwemby reaches for my hands, his palms warm against mine. “You were amazing. I’m in awe of how you didn’t get sucked right back in. Rather than bend over backwards to make him feel better about how he treated you, you stood up for yourself.”
I squeeze his fingers, feeling the strength in his grip.
He watches my face for another moment, his eyes careful on mine, then does something completely unexpected.
He wraps both arms around my waist and lifts me clean off the ground in one smooth motion that leaves me gasping in laughter.
Once he puts me safely back, he kisses me deep and unhurried, his hands firm at my waist, his chest broad against mine.
It’s a real kiss, the kind that makes my stomach flip and my toes curl.
From behind us comes the sound of the twins breaking into applause.
I’m only dimly aware of any of it. My world has narrowed to where Kwemby’s mouth meets mine, to the careful pressure of his hands at my waist, to the warm solidity of his chest beneath my palms. I kiss him back with everything I have.