In the afternoon, I take over the family Olympics, coordinating the skating competitions and the snowshoeing races for kids and adults, while Ayla handles afternoon tea with Nonna and more indoor activities for the kids.
Back at the cottage, we get ready for the evening. It feels so familiar: Ayla doing her hair and make-up, sipping wine, while I complete my preparation by showering and combing my hair. Familiar and intimate, and I get an ache behind my sternum that feels almost like… homesickness. Like I’ve missed this. Like I’ve missed her.
I decided to break out the tux for dinner tonight and it’s worth it when Ayla regards me with warm, admiring eyes.
“You look great,” she says, her voice husky.
“Thanks.”
And when she’s finished getting ready, I’m the same. Okay, I’m stunned into speechless, drooling silence. The long satin dress in pastel pink skims over her curves, with one shoulder completely bare and a strap on the other shoulder. The pink looks amazing with her pale-blonde hair.
“Wow.”
She smiles, her lips rosy and shiny. “Is that good?”
“Fuck yeah. Better than good. Holy shit, Ayla.”
Her cheeks pinken up brighter than her dress.
I always knew I was so fucking lucky that she agreed to marry me. I always wondered how I deserved her. And not just because of her looks, but because of her huge, soft heart. And man, did I fuck up massively to end up losing her. Something pulls tight in my chest, squeezing my windpipe.
I move closer to her and kiss her forehead. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She puts on a pair of spike-heeled sandals that are not appropriate for winter, but the sidewalk to the pavilion is clear.
We arrive early and Norm is there.
I scowl at him. His smirk for Ayla fades.
“Everything looks beautiful,” Ayla says to him. The tables are all set with silver and glass, the candles glow, and soft music plays through a sound system.
“I had a couple of questions about serving the birthday cake,” Norm says to her, and they move away from me.
It does look really nice in here. Ayla put in a lot of work for her family. I hope they appreciate it. I hope they appreciate her.
Elisa and Bria walk in, shedding their jackets to hang them on the coat rack near the door. They spot me and walk toward me. They kind of scare me.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Carter,” Bria says. “Nice tux.”
I smooth a lapel. “Thanks. How are you both?”
“Why do you want to know?” Elisa eyes me narrowly.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t realize we were auditioning forMean Girlstonight.”
Both sets of blue eyes widen. I think Elisa’s lips twitch. “Nice,” she says.
“I’d give you a nasty look,” says Bria. “But you already have one.”
“Proving my point,” I murmur.
Ayla joins us, smiling at her sisters. “What point?”
“His head,” Elisa says.
