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“If that’s true, Rayne, then I’d say you’re the one who saved me.”
I sucked in a breath. It was one of the few times he called me Rayne, not Meyers. “Oh, hell.” I wiped my eyes. “Don’t make me cry on my wedding day.”
“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”
I drew back and looked into his weathered eyes, a shield of tears blurring the grey. We both laughed, finding emotions incredibly tedious and intrusive. Then my smile mirrored his. “I love you.”
“I love you too, kiddo.”
The nickname caught me off guard and I stilled, then my smile widened. It was perfect. Remington had earned the right to call me that. He earned my love by showing me kindness and support when I needed it most. So I hugged him.
His arms tightened around me in a hug. I’d chosen this song especially for him, because I’d waited my whole life for someone like him. Someone I could go to for advice, someone I could count on in a crisis. Someone I could count on.
In a husky whisper, he sang the closing line of the song and promised, “The best is yet to come.”
Everything was, just as Hale said it would be, perfect.
When I left Remington, I found Hale holding Elara on his hip as he fed her small bites of frosting. I kissed her little sugary lips then hugged my husband.
“Thank you for convincing me to dance with him.”
“It went well?”
“It was perfect.”
“Good.” He kissed my forehead and looked at Elara. “Sometimes fate helps daughters find the father they need, rather than the one they were given.”
I wondered if the universe had given Elara to Hale so that Remington would have room for me. “I think you’re right.”
“I know I am. You make him a better father to all of us, Rayne. We’re your family. That’s how it was always meant to be.”
I hugged them both as we danced slowly in the shadows, a plate of cake between us and love all around. Elara babbled and Hale and I laughed, taking a mental picture of this moment so I never forgot it.
This was where I was meant to be.
He loved me, through all the chaos and wild, unrefined calamities. And I loved him, through all of his anal-retentive, control-freak peccadillos.
He melted for me on the days he caught me in mismatched clothes as much as he melted for me in luxury gowns. And I melted every time he looked at me in that hungry way he was doing right now as he crossed the dance floor.
I bopped about to Icona Pop’s I Love It, and the sea of guests parted as he closed in on me. As always, the universe seemed to be operating on his schedule. The fast song faded and the DJ slowed the mood down with Time After Time.
Hale caught my bedazzled hand and pulled me to his chest. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Davenport?”
“Why, yes, you may. But I should tell you, my friends call me Fickledump.”
Sparse memories had started to come back from the night that shall never be repeated. Barrett and I both agreed not to judge or think too hard about the things we did that evening.
Hale had apologized to his brother for questioning his loyalty. In the end, he actually thanked him for watching out for me.
I wasn’t sure if “watching out” was the right way to put it when Barrett had been the one eye fucking a lamp, hallucinating Taylor Swift, and rolling around in bird shit most of the night. But I thought it was a nice sentiment, so I let it slide.
We were glad no one, besides us, had been there to witness our behavior at the peak of our dysfunction. Those secrets would stay in the vault, a place where only Barrett and I knew the truth. Oh, and Britney, because she had been there too.
“You’re looking very pleased and introspective.” Hale dipped me at precisely the right moment, supporting me so I not only didn’t fall, but I also looked semi-graceful.
“Of course, I’m feeling introspective. It’s Cyndi Lauper. She’s as deep as it gets.” Everything outside of us and that moment no longer existed. Only me and Hale.
“What are you thinking about?”
