Page 118 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

Catherine poked her head in the private room, and looked Cross’s way instantly. “Someone said I was needed in here?”

At the sight of his wife, Cross couldn’t help himself.

He smiled.

She was excited—she had been planning and planning and planning some more for this day. Cece’s number one supporter, all the way, no matter what their daughter wanted to do with her life. Catherine was always there to tell their girl, yes, be amazing.

She was the best mother.

“What’s up?” Catherine asked.

“I can’t fix my tie right,” he lied.

Catherine clicked her tongue, but didn’t even question him. “All right, then.”

“Cece?”

Cross held his breath just as Cece turned around to find him in the doorway of her private suite. All of the women that had been fussing over her stopped for a moment, and became still statues. He was grateful for their silence. It gave him a moment to just … appreciate how beautiful and grown up his girl was.

Her ivory lace, ball gown style wedding dress made her look like every inch the princess she had grown up as, and like the queen she would soon become. Seems she had gone with sweeping her hair up, instead of wearing it down. Her makeup was striking with dark red lips, and a smoky flair around her eyes.

He expected nothing less.

“Look at you,” Cross said.

A wide grin spread across his face as he held his arms out, and came closer to his daughter. She beamed right back, already coming for him, too.

Cross caught Cece in his embrace, and brought her close enough to cup her cheeks, and make her look up at him. She smiled widely—all happy, and ready to start her life. Despite the heaviness in his gut, he smiled back.

He had to.

How could he not?

“Out, out,” he heard someone say.

Cross barely got the chance to look up, and the women were leaving the room. Giving them some privacy, it seemed.

Again, he was grateful.

Now, his attention was on just one.

Cece.

She pointed at him. “Don’t you make me cry, okay? Ma made me cry earlier, and they had to redo all of this makeup. My skin can’t take a third round, Daddy.”

Cross laughed. “You know, I don’t think Juan would give a shit how you looked when you walked down the aisle, as long as you did actually walk down to meet him.”

Cece fake glared. “Still!”

Quickly, Cross brought her in close, and dropped a kiss right to the middle of her forehead. For a long while, the two of them simply stood like that.

Him kissing her forehead.

Her, holding tight to his arms.

There was a time when this woman—this girl he helped create—wouldn’t let him go at all. A time when her fingers had been small enough to wrap around his thumb, and he could hide her away in his arms.

He remembered a treehouse she loved.