Chapter 29
ORDINARY RICHES (CLEO)
It only felt right to have the whole Blackthorn clan back at the big house in Portland one last time for our wedding day.
It’s a small, yet beautiful thing. Holden wanted small, and so did I.
Just us and the people we love.
We held the ceremony on the rocky beach in the golden autumn sun with blue skies above and sand glittering below. Margot takes maid of honor, and little Kit stands in as the happiest little bridesmaid, beaming as she carries my veil behind me.
As for Holden—
It’s incredible. No one ever tells you how amazing it feels to witness the expression on the man you’re about to marry as you walk down the aisle toward him.
Dad on my arm, smiling proudly. Kit and Margot follow behind in their gold dresses.
Holden’s eyes never leave me once.
There are universes there.
And I’m trying to stop a laughing fit when I reach him, giddy with delight. He catches my hands, pulling me up on the red carpet beside him.
“I love you,” he whispers and leans down to kiss me, even before the officiant says one word. “You look so damn beautiful it hurts.”
“Not too much, I hope.”
“No.”
For once, I agree.
I found this dress in a vintage shop. I think it was made in the fifties and it only needed a few alterations for my curvier frame. Now, soft satin hugs my body like a cozy glove.
Audrey Hepburn, just for a day.
Holden’s suit shines in the sun, a stark ocean blue shadow, the pocket square the same vibrant gold as Kit and Margot’s dresses. He’s let his beard grow out for this, shot down the middle with a grey streak that completes the silver fox look.
I talked him into that.
He never went too far with dyes, but I had to let him know I love him, age and all, and a little weathering with time just deepens that affection.
He’s vowed to stop fighting it.
“If I wasn’t already marrying you, I’d ask if you want to get hitched,” I whisper back, then turn to Dad.
He’s dressed up, too, and not in the wrinkled, afterthought suits I got used to him wearing through my childhood.
He’s also three months sober from everything, including his gambling fix.
It took real time, effort, and tears. Therapy and rehab his inheritance paid for, but he’s already looking so much better.
Brighter eyes, clearer skin, happy glow. He’s been reborn, and for once he doesn’t hate it.
Just seeing my father alert and smiling makes me tear up all over again.
“You get ’em, sweetheart.” He winks at me. “I’m so damn proud of you.”
I sniff embarrassingly loudly. “I love you, Dad.”
He hugs me. “You too. Now go get yourself a husband.”
I laugh as Holden’s fingers twine through mine.
We both turn to face the officiant, an older woman who smiles indulgently. I guess we’re not the only couple who messes up the traditions and kiss when we’re not supposed to or have mini conversations all through the ceremony.
Traditions aren’t the most important thing here, but the words that drift by carry weight. They build my future, brick by brick, bringing me one second closer to ever after with Holden Verity.
“And now,” she says after the vows and legal spiel, “you may kiss the bride.”
Holden’s brown eyes spark as he looks at me. He grabs my waist, bending me over as he leans down and devours my lips.
Our crowd erupts in cheers.
I think Holden’s folks roar the loudest as he pulls me back up again.
“Show-off,” I mutter, catching his cheek in my hand.
He kisses my palm. “For you, yes.”
I grin and kiss him again before we walk down the aisle, man and freaking wife.
The sun shines on, the calm water laps softly against the shore, and the musician we hired to play the cello makes my heart hurt with boundless energy. The music perfectly matches the mood here today.
We hold the reception in PopPop’s enormous great room with borrowed furniture and rented lights dancing across the carpet.
Holden and I sway together for our first dance—another thing I had to talk him into—and then Kit joins us for a more energetic version that makes me giggle.
Everything she does is adorable chaos and I love her so much.
Right now, she feels more like a little sister than a daughter, but I know I’m filling a hole in her life. A new parent.
Someone to give her advice as she sails into her teen years.
All the things not to do, and I have plenty of lessons. Probably should start making a list soon.
“Congratulations, girl! Last but not least to rock a wedding Blackthorn style.” Margot grins, hanging off the arm of her massive husband with their kids flanking them.
She winks at me.
I have to bite back my smile.
I just know she’s thinking back to our chat when she told me to buck up and go for it.
“Thanks.” I kiss her cheek and reach up to hug Kane. “I’m over the moon.”
“You look stunning,” Margot says.
“So do you. I’ll never get over that dress.”
She preens and Kane’s hand slides a little too low down her backside. She giggles, and I lean back into Holden’s warmth.
He wraps a hand around my hip, drawing me closer, possessive as ever. This wedding haze must be going to everyone’s head.
Honestly, I don’t mind.
We spend the rest of the evening drinking and dancing and eating too much. When the party moves outside to Gramps’ huge outdoor patio under the moon and stars, we slip away while the rest of the crowd soaks in their sixth, seventh, eighth dances of the night.
We take the side door that cuts through the old library.
The massive desk is gone with the rest of the furniture, but there’s a presence in the air. Like Gramps might still pop in at any moment, even though he’s been gone for too long.
“I miss you,” I whisper into the darkness. “I never did get a chance to thank you for bringing us together.”
I imagine him sitting by the fire, smiling smugly, like he always planned it this way.
Who knows, maybe he did.
The man had strange, mystic instincts, though it’s hard to believe he meant to set anyone up besides Ethan and Hattie.
When Gramps died, his family was in tatters. Everyone was trapped, wrestling their own demons.
If only he could see us now…
If only he could know how much he’s loved.
Right now, I can’t imagine being happier than I am with Holden.
“It’s like he’s still here,” I say softly.
“Yeah. If he were, I know he’d be proud of you.” Holden wraps his arms around my waist, his lips gentle against my neck.
Smiling, I rest my hand on his arms, letting myself sink back against his wall of strength.
It’s been such a long, joyful day, and I have the perfect buzz fizzing in my veins.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whisper.
He turns me, tilting my head up for a kiss. “Exactly what you’re doing now, Clee. Killing it with your heart. Making Kit laugh when you’re parked in front of a bad horror movie and painting away. Suffering another old fool. Who the hell knows why.”
“You’re not ancient yet. But I’m grateful. I get to be by your side for everything. Can’t believe my luck sometimes.” I grin and slap at his chest.
“You mean you’re not intimidated by a successful woman?” I tease.
“You kidding? If I could learn to sit still, you’d make a house husband out of me. Still might one day. Regardless, I’ll gladly cook for you all day, every day.”
“Deal!” I reach up to press my nose against his.
He’s kidding, of course, but his words are sincere.
He’s not afraid of my success, my dreams, or the challenge that comes with piecing our lives together. We don’t need to find our purpose when we can make one from the ground up.
With laughter, tears, or just ripping out our hair, we’ll work it out. We have the rest of our lives.
“You should drink more water. No need to risk dehydration,” he tells me, already offering a bottle he’s barely taken a drink from. “The car’s coming for us soon.”
“Yes, yes, the private plane. I still can’t get used to that.”
“Honeymoon perks,” he says, amused. “How much water have you had?”
“Enough. Come along, Mr. Verity.” I grab his tie and pull him out of the room, but I don’t miss the endearing way he looks around one more time before giving in with a low chuckle.
He might act like he doesn’t feel Gramps’ ghost the way I do or that PopPop couldn’t have possibly planned this, but I know he’s just as grateful. And just as sad that he’s gone.
Sometimes in life, two things can be true.
You can make a cherished hello out of a bitter goodbye.
And we fight through the crowd one more time, making our goodbyes quick. Kit’s yawning as she tumbles along after us.
She’s out like a light before we even get to the airport.
Holden and I share a smile.
She’s coming with us on our honeymoon, of course. Thankfully the villa we found has separate rooms.
But she’s part of our lives, and I wouldn’t dream of leaving her behind. I want her to feel like she’s part of our brave new world.
“You think she’s excited?” I ask Holden, squeezing his hand.
“Give her a few hours of shut-eye. By the time we land, she’ll be dragging us to the beach.”
Laughing, we kiss again, overflowing with excitement for tomorrow, the first day of forever in our brand-new family.
We fly to an island oasis floating in the Mediterranean’s green crystal.
Crete.
After everything, it feels a bit like coming full circle. Holden and I wander through the old streets of Heraklion hand in hand, the sun beating down on our heads.
We’re all wearing very attractive, floppy sun hats and so much sunscreen I feel like a glazed ham.
Living in Maine doesn’t prepare you for this heat. We’ve barely stepped outside the resort the first afternoon and I’m dripping like a cold glass in August.
But when ancient stone columns throw down their shadows and sailboats line the horizon, it’s so worth it.
Kit sprints ahead of us, grinning at the sight of an old church on the corner. A tasteful line of hotels traces the shore.
After a life in New England, I’m no stranger to the sea. But there’s something different here, something new and fresh and warm in the air.
Kit turns back to us, wearing the biggest smile as she points down the road. “Guys, look! What are those?”
We reach the ruins and look them over.
Some of these broken remnants must be thousands of years old.
You hear about the Ancient Greeks, but it’s hard to grasp any people existing that long ago, leaving behind these grand markers.
We take our sweet time winding through the columns and faded foundations of buildings older than Portland and Boston. Holden grasps my hand the entire time.
After exploring the city, we return to the resort, thirsty and hot. But as soon as we enter the cool lobby, a man comes over.
“Are you Mrs. Blackthorn?” he asks. “Hello, I’m Georgios, the resort manager.”
“Mrs. Verity now, but close enough. Sorry, do I know you?”
“No. Please, if you’ll follow me for a moment, there’s a place I’d like you to see.” He shakes his head and gestures at the door.
We trade a glance. Holden looks just as confused as I am, and we exit back into the blinding sunshine. We trail the man from a safe distance, heading for the marina just a couple blocks away.
Beside it, a rocky beach.
We descend the steps with Kit staying a few paces behind us. Holden’s face is granite. I nudge his shoulder.
“Relax. It’s nothing crazy, I’m sure. He works for the resort.”
“Stay behind me,” he growls.
I think the only reason he allows it is because it’s a public place and there are plenty of people milling around.
The resort manager looks back at us as we trail behind him with a confused expression.
“So what’s the big surprise?” I prompt, trying not to sound nervous.
“Ah, you’ll see. We’re almost there.” He rubs his forehead, shining with sweat. You’d think the people who live here would build some kind of immunity, but it turns out nothing beats the sun and human biology.
Even so, his grin feels blinding as he leads us to the rocky beach.
“He always used to eat lunch here,” he explains, pointing to the white stone on the side of the marina. “People have come here to carve their names for the past hundred years, perhaps longer.”
I squint, but it’s not until he points up that I finally see why it matters.
There, scarred into the rock forever, is L BLACKTHORN.
Gone, but imprinted forever.
Gramps must live in the locals’ hearts, too, if the manager figured out who I was and felt this deeply.
My throat tightens.
When I lock eyes with Holden, there’s this overwhelming sense of rightness. The way we suffered for the Hera Egg, it all had a rhyme and reason.
I felt my grandfather at the old house last night, but he’s even more with us now.
“Did you know he used to come here? Did he mention it?” I ask Holden softly.
“Not this exact spot,” Holden says, smiling down at me. “Crete, yes. They weren’t trips he invited me on.”
“So rude.”
“I thought so.” He shakes his head fondly.
I tear up and wipe my eyes, breaking into a grin.
“Not now, woman. Don’t go to pieces on our honeymoon. He wouldn’t like it,” he teases.
“No. It just feels like the perfect ending,” I whisper.
“The beginning, you mean.” He doesn’t need to explain.
We all feel it now.
Gramps’ spirit, somewhere in the sunny ether high over the tranquil sea, fully at ease. He left us one more postcard on his long journey through our hearts and into infinity.
All is right.
All is well.
And with Holden and Kit and a brilliant Mediterranean sunset just a few hours away, my heart is whole.
Thanks for reading This Bitter Sweet Temptation!