Page 60

Mac joined them, resting a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “Don’t start getting emotional on me, old man. You’ll ruin your reputation.”

Truman harrumphed, but his eyes glistened suspiciously. “I have something for you two,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket with trembling fingers. “Been holding onto these, hoping for the right moment.”

He withdrew a small velvet pouch and tipped its contents into his palm. Two gold bands gleamed against his wrinkled skin—one larger, one delicate and feminine, a diamond and emerald glinting in the light.

“These were mine and Eleanor’s,” he explained, his voice roughening. “Had them polished and refurbished. We can get them sized if they don’t fit.”

Mac stared at the rings. “Grandad… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll take them,” Truman replied simply. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing them worn again, by two people I love.”

The sentiment hung in the air and threatened to crack Kelsey’s carefully maintained composure. This was supposed to be a business arrangement, a strategic alliance—not this intimate family moment that made her heart ache with its bittersweetness.

“We’d be honored,” Mac said finally, his voice unusually husky as he took the rings.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment. Mrs. Henley opened it to admit Judge Thorton, a tall man with silver hair and kind eyes whom Kelsey recognized from town events. He carried a leather portfolio and wore a formal suit that suggested he took this impromptu ceremony seriously.

“Mac, Kelsey,” he greeted them with a nod. “Truman explained the situation. I must say, this is the most romantic shotgun wedding I’ve ever been asked to perform.”

Mac huffed a laugh. “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Judge.”

“For Truman Costigan? I’d have swum across the bay if necessary.” The judge glanced out the window at the perfect blue sky beyond. “Seems a shame to waste such a beautiful afternoon. Shall we do this outside?”

“Excellent idea,” Truman agreed. “The deck has the best view on the whole island.”

With gentle efficiency, Mrs. Henley helped guide Truman outside while Amy fluttered around Kelsey, straightening her dress—a simple ivory sheath she’d found in the back of her closet—and tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“You look beautiful,” Amy whispered, giving Kelsey’s hand a squeeze. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kelsey replied automatically, then amended, “I’m getting through it.”

Amy studied her face. “You know, I think you could actually be happy with him. He looks at you like—”

“Please don’t,” Kelsey cut her off gently. “Let’s just get through today.”

Her sister nodded. “One step at a time.”

The deck had been transformed as well, with more flowers in ceramic pots and a white runner leading to the railing that overlooked the ocean. Mrs. Henley had positioned Truman’s chair at an angle that allowed him to observe the ceremony while taking in the spectacular view. The afternoon sun cast everything in that special golden light photographers called “magic hour,” turning the ordinary into something enchanted.

Judge Thorton took his position at the railing, opening his portfolio on a small table someone had thoughtfully placed there. “Shall we begin?”

Mac extended his hand to Kelsey with a question in his eyes. She took it, surprising herself with how steady her own fingers felt. They walked together down the makeshift aisle and stopped before the judge with the vast expanse of ocean at their backs.

“We are gathered here today,” Judge Thorton began, his voice carrying on the salt-tinged breeze, “to join Preston MacCormack and Kelsey York in matrimony.”

The traditional words washed over Kelsey, familiar from her own wedding with David, yet utterly surreal in this context. She studied Mac’s profile as the judge spoke of commitment and partnership, of facing life’s challenges together. His jaw was set in that determined line she’d come to recognize, his eyes focused on the judge with the same intensity he brought to everything.

“Mac and Kelsey have chosen to exchange traditional vows,” the judge continued. “Mac… Preston, if you would repeat after me…”

Mac turned to face her fully, taking both her hands in his. His eyes, that impossible shade of blue, locked onto hers with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I, Preston MacCormack, take you, Kelsey York, to be my wife,” he repeated, his voice clear and steady. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard. He wasn’t simply reciting words; he was making a promise. A promise she knew, intellectually, was part of their arrangement. Yet, in this moment, with the sun warming her skin and the ocean stretching endlessly behind him, it felt like something more.

“Kelsey,” Judge Thorton prompted gently. “Please repeat after me.”

She took a steadying breath. “I, Kelsey, take you, Preston MacCormack, to be my husband.” The words felt simultaneously familiar and foreign on her tongue, yet not as wrong as she’d feared. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”