“She really does,” Margot agrees, resting her head on my shoulder.
She’s wearing her sage-green dress, the one she helped pick as Maid of Honor. Honestly, with her hair up in loose curls, she’s rocking fae mode herself today.
“Do you have the shoes?” I ask.
“You know it! Hang on.” She quickly fetches a pair of low white heels a second later. They’re spotless, despite knowing she’s owned them for a few years.
When I asked to borrow them, she wanted to buy me a new pair. But I’ve loved these since the first time I saw her wearing them. They were custom shoes she agonized over a long time ago, and I needed mysomething borrowed.
Silly traditions matter.
Good thing we’re the same size in the shoe department, too.
“Enjoy, Hattie. I don’t want them back.” She sets them in front of me so I can slip them on.
“That’s not borrowing!” I say.
“It’s a gift. We’ll just say I borrowed them from you. I just never knew it when I had them made.” She grins at me, so full of love I can’t do anything but love her back even when she’s being ridiculous.
I’m so grateful she’s been my bestie forever, and now our lives are going to be more intertwined than I dreamed.
I squeeze her hands.
“You should do more than custom orders. Start designing again. You could make awesome shoes for people to love. These are gorgeous.”
“Maybe one day,” she says noncommittally.
“If you ever do, I’ll be president of the Margot Blackthorn shoe club.”
She laughs.
“Like I could stand it if you weren’t.” She leans forward to kiss my cheek. “My brother’s a lucky man. He doesn’t deserve you,” she whispers. “But seriously, if he ever breaks your heart, we’re burying him up to his neck on the beach and waiting for the tide to come in.”
“Margot! Can we keep the murdery talk out of my wedding?” I still laugh. “No painful backup plans needed. I’m positive.”
“I know, but he’s my brother, and I always have your back.” She winks and checks her phone. “Almost showtime. Are you ready?”
I glance at Mom, who wipes her eyes and nods shakily, beaming back a smile that tells me just how proud she is.
This is what she always wanted, but I found it on my terms, and she accepts it.
She’s learned to acceptmejust the way I am.
That’s why I clear my throat and pop the next big question.
“Hey, Mom… how would you like to walk me down the aisle?”
We haven’t discussed it.
Until now, with Dad out of the picture, we settled on me strutting down solo.
Her eyes flash and she puts a hand over her mouth.
“Oh, Hattie, you’re—you’re serious?”
“Yep. It’s not really about handing me off like a piece of property,” I say. This isnotJane Austen’s era, no matter how much I love her books. “I just want everyone to know you’re my mom. I love you and I couldn’t be happier to have you with me.”
There are a lot of vows happening today, and this is one more.
