The past is being rewritten. Even Slade gets along so well with my father now that Mom and I joke about it. It’s as if there’s a mutual respect between them.
Tate rises from the piano stool, the layers of her fishtail gown swirling around her feet as she walks to the front and they bow together, smiling. Sullivan stands at the edge of the stage with Molly in his arms, watching Tate with unwavering intensity as he holds out a hand and helps her down. She grins at Molly, and he pulls her into an embrace with them both before kissing her.
“I thought you got all the romantic traits, but I think your brother might keep surprising me,” I muse.
Slade buries his head in my neck and growls as he kisses it. “You want a skyscraper given to your company to work in, is that it?”
I giggle at his mention of Sullivan doing that for Tate.
“Thatwasromantic. But not as romantic as hand-carved oyster shells containing pearls you’ve wrestled sharks for.”
He chuckles. “Wrestled sharks?”
“Declan said that dive was brutal. I think he uses it as a chat-up line to impress girls. Just go with it.”
“At least fifty. All trying to tear chunks from me. Circling after blood, they were,” Slade says.
I snort. More and more of his fun side is emerging day by day. And I love it.
He rests his forehead against mine, cupping my cheeks. “You don’t mind that you shared your wedding day with my sister and Tate?”
“No. I love it. And I love that Molly was both best woman and ring bearer.”
“She kept everyone together once, and she’s making sure it stays that way.” Slade looks in her direction and smiles as she snuggles into Sullivan’s shoulder, and he kisses her head.
“She has a new helper now too,” I say.
My stomach squirms with broodiness as Sterling moves closer, one arm wrapped around Halliday, the other cradling a sleeping Mattison. The way Sterling has his arms around them both with such care and tenderness has me melting almost as much as the sight of Mattison’s little mouth lifting on one side like it’s being pulled by an invisible string as she dreams.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort.” Sterling smiles, shaking Slade’s hand and pulling him into a careful hug. Halliday hugs us both too before Sterling slides his arm around her.
“Thank you,” I beam, still wondering if I’ll ever get used to the name.
We talk with them until Mattison starts to stir, and Sterling excuses them so Halliday can feed her.
“I’m giving this to you, because he won’t take it,” a female voice behind me says.
“Nandi!” I turn and grin, pulling her into a hug. She chuckles, pushing an envelope into my chest.
The moment Slade told me he wanted to hold the wedding near Cape Town, I couldn’t wait to see her and Declan. We came a couple of days early, and getting to spend some time with them has been amazing. Although hearing them still call him Woody is strange. They know he’s Slade. I think they always did. But to them, he’s Woody, the creative man with the golden soul. Not the billionaire businessman New York knows him as.
I love all versions. They’re all him.
“You listening, bokkie? You make sure you keep this and don’t lose it.”
Nandi throws Slade a warning look, then points at the envelope.
“Your wife can take care of it. Like she’ll take care of you.” Her face softens and she pulls Slade into a hug. “I’m happy foryou. But I miss you. Declan’s good company, but his bed corners need work.”
“It’s good that you only have another week to put up with him, then,” Slade says.
Nandi coughs and Slade studies her, his chest relaxing when she doesn’t break into her usual wheezing.
“Six days,” she corrects.
She leans toward me conspiratorially. “Won me some money in a competition. Don’t even recall entering the thing. But it’s got me a nice little place near my daughter to retire to.”
“That’s amazing.” I smile, careful not to let my gaze flick to Slade. I’m guessing that competition is the same one she's always winning.
