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I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE YOU.
Scottie
“I’m nervous.I can’t believe I’m nervous. Why am I so nervous?”
Mom steps behind me, resting her hands on my bare shoulders while I stare out the window at the small gathering seated in white chairs behind the house.
Koen built a beautiful arch, and his mom and brother wrapped it in pink garden roses and lavender peonies beneath the boughs of his majestic Encino Oak tree. The front yard has a rented tent with tables for a small reception.
“You have a guest.” Steph pokes her head into the bedroom.
“Koen can’t see me.” I turn toward the door.
Steph adjusts the waist of her light-blue chiffon sleeveless V-neck dress that matches all three of her girls. My three flower girls. “It’s Price.”
My mom smiles. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”
As soon she disappears, my first love steps into the room looking dapper in his heathered, light-gray suit, tailored to perfection.
White shirt. Royal blue tie.
“Nervous?”
I shake my head, and his gaze lands on my hands as I pick at my fingernails, which have been professionally manicured for the first time in my life.
“A little. I don’t like being the center of attention. And I’m worried that I won’t remember my vows. Maybe I should run. What do you think? Will you drive me? I’ll leave Koen. You’ll leave Amelia. And we’ll …” I scrape my teeth along my bottom lip several times. “I don’t know. Maybe we can go to an island. I bet you could buy an island for us, huh?”
A slow smile swells on his handsome face while he casually slides a hand into his front pocket. “I could probably swing a small island.” He glances at his gold watch. “But if we’re going to do it, we should probably go before it’s too late to get a flight out.”
“There’s no way you don’t have a private jet.” I run the pad of my finger below my eye. Why did I let my sister talk me into makeup? It feels weird, even though she says it’s light.
“I might. Do you want to think about it before we make a rash decision?”
He’s so calm. That used to be my role.
“You’re stunning, Scottie.”
“Don’t.” I fan my face. “I’m wearing mascara. If you make me cry?—”
“Shh … stop interrupting the universe.” He pulls something from his pocket and saunters toward me.
“Stop stealing my line.” I grin.
“I’m sure Koen would rather I steal your line than steal the bride. Here.” He opens his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s for your ankle, not your wrist. No one has to see it. It’s white gold and?—”
“Blue sodalite,” I whisper, picking up the delicate anklet.
“For tranquility and emotional balance.” He takes it from me and hunches at my feet.
I lift the tulle skirt of my vintage boho A-line dress. It has a lace bodice with a low back, and I feel like a princess. Price fastens it around my ankle.
“I thought it would be you,” I say softly.
He lifts his gaze. It’s surprisingly sad. “What if I said okay? What if we could be on the island before sunrise tomorrow? What if everyone else has just been part of a complicated and emotional path back to each other?”
I start to smile because it’s funny. We’re being silly. Right? But my smile dies when I see something in his eyes that I haven’t seen in twelve years.
This isn’t the man who left Austin two months ago. That man had found peace with his body and mind and yearned to be reunited with his wife and daughter.
