Chapter 51
fifty-one
LUCY
Three Months Later
I’ve never seen a bride look quite as wild with joy as Bree.
Her curls catch the late summer sunlight as she twirls in the middle of the cottage’s sitting room, her wedding dress billowing around her. She’s radiant.
“Lucy! Tell me honestly, is this too much?” She gestures dramatically to the flower crown perched atop her head, a riot of Highland wildflowers woven through with tiny white ribbons.
“It’s perfect,” I say, one hand resting on my now-prominent bump. “Very you.”
And it is. The crown is bold and vibrant, just like Bree herself. Nothing about her has ever been understated, and her wedding day is no exception.
Juliette laughs from where she’s helping Isla practice her flower girl walk. “It reminds me of my wedding,” she says, adjusting the tiny flower crown on Isla’s head to match Bree’s larger version. “Though I think Knox nearly fainted when he saw how many flowers Bree had ordered for the ceremony.”
“I remember,” I laugh, shifting to ease the dull ache in my lower back. At nearly seven months pregnant, even breathing is hard. “Does Callan have any idea what he’s in for today?”
“Oh, he knows,” Bree says, spinning once more before stopping in front of the antique mirror. “Even though he told me he’d marry me in a clown costume if that’s what I wanted.”
“And yet, you went with a flower crown instead,” I tease. “How restrained of you.”
Bree catches my eye in the mirror, mischief sparking. “Please. I’m saving the clown costume for our anniversary.”
We crack up as Isla twirls beside Bree, her little curls bouncing as she mimics Bree’s every move. My heart swells at the sight.
“Careful, Isla,” I warn gently as she spins a bit too enthusiastically. “We don’t want your flowers falling out before the ceremony.”
She immediately slows down, her face serious as she nods. “I’m practicing my best twirls for after the wedding,” she explains. “Daddy says I can dance as much as I want then.”
“And he’s absolutely right,” Juliette agrees.
I shift my weight again, trying to find a comfortable position. The baby’s been particularly active today.
“You okay?” Bree asks, her expression softening as she notices me rubbing my side.
“I’m fine. Your nephew is just practicing his Highland fling,” I say with a smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Her eyes go wide as she hurries over to place her hands gently on my stomach. “Oh my goodness, I can feel him!” she squeals, then immediately drops her voice to a whisper. “Hi there, little one. It’s your Auntie Bree. I can’t wait to spoil you rotten.”
I laugh despite the discomfort. “He’s definitely responding to all the excitement today.”
Juliette checks her watch. “We should probably start heading over to the ceremony site. The men will be wondering where we are.”
My heart does a little flutter at the thought of seeing Aidan.
He’d looked devastating this morning in his formal kilt, the deep green tartan making his eyes burn brighter.
I glance down at the ring on my finger, the princess-cut diamond catching in the soft light, and my mind drifts back to a month ago when he’d slipped it onto my hand with words I’ll never forget.
“Lucy?” Aidan called from the back deck. “Can you come out here for a second?”
When I stepped out, he was standing there, awkward in that way that always makes my heart squeeze, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Isla was standing next to him, holding something behind her back that I couldn’t see.
“Isla has something for you, but before she shows you…” His voice caught. “I just want you to know that I can’t imagine our lives without you in it. We need you. I need you, always.”
He gave Isla a curt nod before she stepped forward, holding out the mug she’d been hiding behind her back. On the side were the words Mummy, will you marry Daddy?
I laughed, but it came out choked and tearful as Aidan dropped to one knee, a velvet box open in his hand.
“Lucy MacKenzie, will you—”
I’d said yes before he’d even finished the question.
We haven’t rushed into any wedding planning or frantic timelines.
We’re just…savoring every quiet morning, every shared smile, every conversation about the future.
Letting everything happen in its own time.
I love that we can linger in the in-between.
Our life together isn’t measured by deadlines or expectations.
We’re just slowly carving out our forever, one day at a time.
Callan and Bree’s wedding ceremony is a blur of happy tears, laughter, and so many flowers I swear I’ll be smelling them in my dreams. Now I’m nestled in a corner of the reception tent, my feet propped on an empty chair while Aidan sits beside me.
From this vantage point, we have the perfect view of the celebration unfolding before us.
“Look at that chaos,” I murmur, leaning my head against Aidan’s shoulder.
The dance floor is a flurry of tartan and laughter. Bree is at the center, her flower crown slightly crooked as Callan spins her around, both of them laughing like the world has shrunk down to just the two of them.
“You doing all right?” Aidan asks.
“I’m perfect,” I assure him, though my feet are swollen and my back aches. “Just enjoying the show.”
And what a show it is. Knox has the twins perched on his hips, their matching pink dresses swirling as they shriek with delight. Juliette’s laughter spills across the dance floor as she captures every moment on her phone.
Isla is twirling around with my parents.
Dad lifts her high, making her squeal in delight.
There’s no stopping the smile that tugs at my lips.
They’ve embraced Isla so completely. There was never a question of whether she’d be accepted.
She was theirs the moment they met her. Just like she became mine.
Aidan shifts in his chair, turning fully toward me. “Let’s get married next weekend.”
I laugh, the sound bubbling up before I can stop it. “Right. I’ll just waddle down the aisle like a penguin in a fancy dress.”
He doesn’t laugh. Not a grin, not even a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Instead, he threads his fingers through mine.
“I’m serious, Lucy.” His voice is calm, eyes never leaving mine. The joke dies on my lips. He is serious.
Suddenly, the idea of a quick, small wedding doesn’t seem silly at all. In fact…maybe it’s perfect. No sprawling guest lists, no one else’s expectations crowding in. Just us and the people we love most.
His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. “I don’t think I can wait much longer to call you my wife.”
Well…if I wasn’t already leaning toward yes, that would do it for me. A ridiculous grin threatens to take over my whole face, and my chest seems too small for all the fluttering inside it. I want to kiss him senseless.
“But what about—” I start to protest, my practical side kicking in despite the butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach.
“What about what?” he asks, leaning closer. The scent of his cologne mingles with the Highland air, and I have to fight the urge to bury my face in his neck right here in front of everyone.
“I’m huge, Aidan. I can’t even see my own feet, let alone fit into a proper wedding dress.”
His eyes soften, and he brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “You’re carrying our son,” he says quietly. “You’ve never been more beautiful.”
My heart does that fluttering thing again, and I swear this man could convince me to do anything when he looks at me like that.
“Besides,” he continues, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice, “you’d look stunning in a potato sack.”
I snort out a laugh. “Very romantic, Mr. Reid.”
“I have my moments.”
“I have one condition.”
He smirks. “Name it.”
“You go commando beneath your kilt and make sure someone can watch Isla for the weekend.”
He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that makes my stomach flutter. “And how exactly do you know I’m not always commando beneath this kilt, hmm?”
I laugh, and just like that, I know my answer.
“Yes,” I say, the word coming out breathless and eager. “Let’s do it. Next weekend.”
His face transforms, lighting up with such joy that it nearly takes my breath away. “Aye?”
I nod, grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. “Yes. Absolutely, yes. I don’t need anything fancy. Just us.”
Before I can say another word, Aidan cradles my face in his hands and kisses me.
Not a gentle peck or a sweet promise of more to come—this is a full-on, soul-claiming kiss that makes my toes curl in my uncomfortable shoes.
His lips move against mine with such fierce tenderness that I completely forget we’re in the middle of someone else’s wedding reception.
Bree would absolutely approve.
“Why are you always kissing?!”
Aidan and I break apart to find Isla standing before us, her nose wrinkled in disgust.
I burst into laughter. Aidan’s deep chuckle rumbles through the air as he reaches down to ruffle her curls.
“Just wait until you’re older,” he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement.
“I’m never going to kiss boys,” she declares.
“Good,” Aidan says sternly. “Keep it that way until you’re at least thirty.”
I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder, heart full and completely at ease. Between the chaos, the laughter, and this little family we’ve created, I know one thing with absolute certainty.
I wouldn’t change a single moment. Not one.