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Now, in front of all of my friends and limited family that Wyett and I both wanted there, I’d made her my wife.
For sure.
Lock, stock, and barrel—she was mine.
There was no way she would be able to walk away now.
“What’s that smile for, Hunt McJimpsey?” Wyett asked as we walked down the aisle toward the back of the church.
The same church that, forty years ago, Wyett’s parents had gotten married in.
When I’d surprised her with this wedding—dress, makeup, hair, everything that I could think of to make this day special for her—she’d been happy.
She didn’t realize the significance of this place, though.
Not yet, anyway.
That was what I was taking her to do—realize what was so special about this place—right now.
I thought to do this before our wedding, but then I decided that she’d be a crying mess and that wouldn’t be too good for her wedding photos.
“What’s that look on your face for, Hunt?” she asked curiously. “Are we going to go take photos?”
We were, but we were also doing more than that.
“Yep,” I semi-lied.
She squeezed my hands and then leaned her head on my shoulder as we walked to where I’d set up a place for her to go over the information I’d found for her.
A letter from her father, to be delivered to Wyett on her wedding day.
Something that I’d had to go procure, which had taken a lot more effort than I thought it would, and bring to her.
See, after Stella and her ‘talk,’ I’d decided to look for information on her family.
My hope was to find Wyett some information. To help her understand.
And eventually, six months later, I’d found that for her.
Last night to be exact.
It’d been rather tricky to get Wyett to her friend’s house to start getting her ready for our wedding, only to turn around and drive four hours to get this letter from a post office box.
I was scared as fuck as to what was in it.
Which was why, when I finally handed it to her, I felt bile rise up my throat.
She looked at me worriedly as she took the letter from my hands.
“What is it?” she asked curiously.
I cleared my throat.
“After your meeting with your aunt,” I started. “I began looking into her with a relentless determination, that was why I was so stressed out. I wanted to know why. Why did this all happen the way it happened. And I found out that your father, a couple of months before he transferred the entirety of his fortune into your name, had finally ‘written off’ Stella. He explained to her that he was leaving everything he had to give to you because Stella couldn’t straighten herself out. From what I can tell, Stella got pissed that she had to ‘fall in line’ with her brother’s edicts to get money that should’ve been half hers. Your parents were given custody of Stella when she was seventeen after your grandparents were in a boating accident. Stella went wild, and your father tried everything he had to keep her safe. Only Stella wouldn’t follow through with her brother’s pleadings. He spent years trying to straighten her out before he gave up on her,” I explained.
Wyett frowned. “How did you find this out?”
I rubbed my hands up the length of her arms. “Your father’s lawyer. He was really, really old school and didn’t keep anything electronic for me to find. Until I decided to just grow a pair and talk to him in person.”
She gasped. “You’re kidding.”
I winked at her.
It surprised the two of us because I had to agree with her silent words. “Yes, I did go on my own. Thank you very much.”
She snickered and headed in the direction of the walkway, only to turn around again with the envelope and head back our way.
She tore into it and ripped the envelope in a careless disregard that wasn’t like her.
The moment that the paper was revealed, she gasped.
“My dad used to have stationary like this,” she whispered.
“It’s from your dad, baby,” I told her.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes, then shakily handed the letter to me.
Before I could pull it from her fingers, not only did I have my woman in my arms, but I also had the miles and miles of tulle swirling about my feet.
I caught her hand and led her to the chair that I’d brought just for this occasion.
And then I pulled her into my arms and read the letter to her.
Wyett,
If you’re reading this, then it means that I have died.
I wish that it hadn’t come to this, but unfortunately it has. I apologize profusely for not being there for all of your special days. Your graduation. Your wedding. The day you bring my grandchild into the world.
And though I didn’t get to experience these things with you, I know that you’ll do well.
