Chapter 13
Delaney
The ceremony is simple.
Miss Maggie got ordained online—“Took me fifteen minutes and cost me twenty dollars. Best investment I ever made”—and she presides over us with the same no-nonsense warmth she brings to everything.
Daniel holds my hands. His are steady. Mine are shaking.
“Dearly beloved,” Miss Maggie begins, and I almost laugh because it’s so traditional, so formal, coming from a woman who threatened me with a cast-iron skillet named Lucille the first time we met.
But then she goes off script.
“We’re here because these two stubborn, wounded, beautiful people found each other.
Against the odds. Despite their best efforts to push each other away.
” She looks at us, her eyes soft. “Love isn’t always easy.
It isn’t always convenient. Sometimes, it shows up when you least expect it, wearing dusty boots and a bad attitude. ”
Daniel’s lips twitch. So do mine.
“But when it’s real, when it’s right, you hold on to it. You fight for it. You build something together that’s stronger than either of you alone.”
She nods at Daniel. “Your vows.”
He takes a breath. His hands tighten on mine.
“Delaney.” Just my name, but the way he says it makes my heart squeeze. “I’m not good with words. I’m better with actions. With showing up. With doing.”
He pauses, gathering himself.
“But you deserve the words too. So here they are.” His gray eyes hold mine. “I promise to show up. Every day. In every small way. Until you believe you’re home. Until you stop waiting for me to leave. Until you know—really know—that you’re not alone anymore.”
My vision blurs.
“I promise to protect you, but not to smother you. To support you, but not to control you. To love you exactly as you are, not as some version I think you should be.”
His voice drops, rough and tender.
“I promise to be your home, Delaney. For as long as you’ll have me.”
I’m crying. I don’t care.
Miss Maggie looks at me. “Your turn, sugar.”
I take a shaky breath. I had vows prepared. Practiced them in the mirror. But looking at Daniel now, all those careful words dissolve.
“I spent ten years being strong,” I say. “Being the one who held everything together. I didn’t know how to let anyone help. I didn’t know how to need someone without feeling like I was failing.”
His hands squeeze mine.
“You taught me that needing someone isn’t a weakness. That letting someone carry what I can’t hold alone isn’t giving up—it’s growing up.”
I swallow hard.
“I promise to stay. To trust you with my broken parts. To let you in, even when it scares me. To be your partner, not just your project.”
A wet laugh escapes me.
“I promise to keep arguing with you about your filing system. To steal your shirts. To ride your horse even when it terrifies me.”
Daniel’s smile is blinding.
“I promise to be your home too, Daniel. For as long as you’ll have me.”
Miss Maggie produces the rings. His great-grandmother’s ring for me. A simple gold band for him. Daniel’s hands are steady as he slides mine onto my finger. Mine shake as I do the same for him.
“By the power vested in me by the internet and the state of Montana,” Miss Maggie announces, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” She grins. “Kiss your bride, Daniel. Make it good.”
He cups my face in his hands. His thumbs brush away my tears.
“Mrs. Sutton,” he murmurs.
“That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“We’ve got time.”
Then he kisses me.
Not a polite wedding kiss. Not a quick peck for the audience. He kisses me like we’re alone, like there aren’t fifty people watching, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
I kiss him back the same way.
Somewhere, someone whoops. Definitely Tom.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, Miss Maggie is dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Well,” she says. “That was worth the twenty dollars.”
The reception unfolds in the golden light of late afternoon.
Tables dot the yard. Food that Miss Maggie and Kitty spent days preparing covers every surface. Music plays from the same speakers, and fairy lights wait in the trees for when the sun sets.
Daniel’s hand finds mine every few minutes, like he needs to confirm I’m still there. Still real. Still his wife.
Miss Maggie’s toast silences the crowd: “It took these two long enough to stop arguing and start kissing. Lord help us when they have children—those kids will either be the most organized humans on the planet or complete disasters. No in-between.”
Laughter ripples through the guests. Daniel pulls me closer, his lips brushing my ear. “She’s not wrong.”
“About the arguing or the children?”
“Both.” His hand spreads across my lower back. “Though I’m looking forward to the practicing.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Daniel.”
“What? We’re married now. I’m allowed to say things like that.”
Major Pecker makes an appearance then, strutting through the reception like he owns the place.
He passes within three feet of me and—miracle of miracles—doesn’t attack.
Instead, he pauses. Tilts his head. Then, with all the dignity of a decorated officer, he hops once and brushes his flank against my calf. Quick. Casual. Like it’s no big deal.
Then he keeps walking.
Daniel grins. “That’s basically a hug.”
Major Pecker disappears under the dessert table, having completed his social obligation for the year.
“We have an understanding.”
“What kind of understanding?”
“I don’t ask questions about his reign of terror, and he doesn’t draw blood.”
Daniel laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “My wife, the rooster whisperer.”
When the music shifts to something slow, Daniel tugs me toward the open space that’s become a makeshift dance floor.
“Dance with me.”
He pulls me close, one hand on my waist, the other holding mine against his chest. We move together the way we did at the lake, his boots shuffling against the grass, and I remember his mother teaching him this. Teaching him that a man who can dance is a man who knows how to listen to his partner.
“Thank you,” he says. “For Captain Winky. For all of it.”
“You gave me your horse. Your space. Your trust.” I look up at him. “I wanted to show you I could meet you there.”
His arm tightens around me. “You exceeded expectations.”
I smirk. “I do that.”
“Yeah.” He kisses my forehead. “You do.”
Over his shoulder, I catch Kitty’s eye. She’s wrapped in Tom’s arms, watching us with tears streaming down her face.
I love you, she mouths.
I love you too, I mouth back.
Everything I was afraid of losing… I found instead.
The moment that stays with me happens later, on the porch.
I’m getting a drink when I see Jacob approach Kitty. He’s holding wildflowers from Ruth’s garden.
“For the salve,” he says gruffly. “The eczema. It helped.”
Kitty takes the flowers, her expression soft. “I’m glad.”
Jacob nods once, awkward and stiff, then turns away. But he doesn’t go back to his seat.
He walks to where Ben stands alone, watching the dancing.
He’s carrying a bottle of whiskey.
“Figured we should toast the kids,” Jacob says.
Ben stares at him. The silence stretches so long I think he’s going to refuse.
Then he takes the bottle.
They sit on the porch together. Don’t talk. Don’t rehash the decades-long feud or the wounds that caused it. Just sit. Two brothers. Passing a bottle back and forth. Watching their children build something new.
Daniel appears beside me, following my gaze.
“Is that—”
“Yeah.”
“They’re not fighting.”
I smile. “No.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t remember the last time they were in the same space without shouting.”
I lean into him. “Maybe that’s what family is. Not the absence of wounds, but the willingness to heal anyway.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “When did you get so wise?”
“I married a Sutton. Wisdom is a survival requirement.”
Night falls. Guests drift away or settle into the bunkhouse. The fairy lights glow against the darkness like earthbound stars.
Daniel takes my hand. “Ready?”
My pulse kicks. We haven’t been intimate since that afternoon at the lake, and I’m desperate for my husband.
“For what?” I tease.
His smile is slow and devastating. “To go home, Mrs. Sutton.”
Home. Our room. Our bed. Our wedding night.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I’m ready.”
He leads me toward the house, up the porch steps, past the door that’s always open because he can’t stand feeling trapped. Into the hallway. Up the stairs.
To our room.