Page 17 of Slow Hands Cowboy

Of this she was certain.

But she did her best to just keep chattering with her friends, not letting any of her reservations show.

Because why should she? They weren’t an action item, they were just the way she was feeling. Just a little bit. And it was not a sign or portent or anything like that.

Her hairstylist began working on her hair. Which required smoothing, then curling the ends, then fastening her glorious, eight-foot veil to her partial updo so that it flowed around her, creating the most glorious silhouette.

Her wedding dress was white, heavy satin that pillowed it out around her like a ball gown. The corset waist made her look like a Disney princess, and she loved it; it was spectacular, and when her makeup was done and she was all dressed, her bridesmaids took pictures, filmed the dress from every angle, and she asked for them to send them to her so that she could do a post after the ceremony.

She did look beautiful. She did look like a bride.

She paused in front of the mirror and stared at herself.

It was like an out-of-body experience, like she was standing next to herself. She stood there, smoothing down the front of the dress unconsciously, running her fingers through her hair, and feeling a strange, hollow sense.

She’d never been married before, she’d never been a bride before, so of course it felt surreal. Of course it felt like something she couldn’t quite grasp hold of.

It was normal.

They had a photographer there snapping shots of them getting ready, and then it was time for the whole bridal party to go outside and get some photos.

They would take more afterward with the groom and with the groomsmen altogether.

The photographer brought her father over, and they took pictures out on the lawn with the mountains behind them, her and her dad.

She felt a little bit of giddy nervousness, knowing that she would be taking pictures with her mom next, because she felt strange about all of that.

That her mom hadn’t been in there getting ready with them, that she didn’t feel close enough to her to do that.

Now she wondered if that had been the right thing to do. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone off of her feelings of closeness, or the lack of them, but off of tradition.

Maybe she would regret not having her mother in there someday.

Her dad smiled down at her.

He was a handsome man, her dad, and looked great in his black suit, with his cowboy hat.

He wasn’t really a cowboy, but he definitely liked to dress in the western aesthetic, and there was a western component to the wedding.

She was getting married at a ranch after all, which was why she had ended up asking for Walker, and some of the others to escort the guests in with horses.

The whole thing was very upscale rodeo.

Though, she was wearing heels, not cowboy boots, because while she respected everyone’s right to the wedding aesthetic of their choice, she was not a fan of the boots and fancy dress. She hadn’t spent that much money on the dress – or rather her dad hadn’t – for her to put boots with it.

“This is all perfect,” he said, smiling down at her, and she felt elated.

She had done it.

She had, and this was the right thing to do.

Her dad was proud.

She could almost see the relief on his face.

She was everything he had wanted her to be, and that meant the world to her.

She was running for mayor, following in his footsteps, marrying a man that he approved of, and she had done it all without ever having a personal scandal.