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Opening the lid, I see a blue garter and feel my face flush. It too has a note.
“Now mine.” Mom steps forward. Another box, this one smaller with a tiny note folded inside.
“He’s killing me.” I laugh as I swipe under my eyes. “We should’ve done this before I had my makeup done.”
“We can patch you up, don’t you worry,” Jamie assures me.
“My turn.” Whitney steps forward, handing me yet another small package. Inside is a jeweled hair comb that looks similar to the bracelet he gave me, again with a note.
I hand the comb to Jamie, and she secures it in my hair. “Looks as though it was made into the veil,” she comments.
“He really did think of everything,” I say, dabbing at my face with a tissue, trying hard not to destroy my makeup.
“He did. He loves you,” Mom assures me.
“I love him, too,” I say, just as there’s a knock at the door.
Mom opens it just a crack to see who’s there and in walks my future mother-in-law. “Oh, Olivia, you’re beautiful,” she says, giving me a hug. “I have something for you,” she says when she pulls back. “David is getting this same information right now. “His father and I wanted to do something, but by the time we knew what was happening, everything was set and taken care of, so we decided to send you on your honeymoon. We know you both like low-key, so we got you a house on Lake Michigan for a week. I already cleared it with Mike, Evan, and Aaron, and you two are good to go. We’ll keep Dixie at our place,” she says.
“Thank you so much.” I give her a huge hug. “This is perfect.” When she pulls away, she wipes her eyes. “Thank you, all of you, for being here and making this day special.”
“Knock, knock. You ladies ready?” my dad asks from outside the door.
“Come in,” Mom yells.
“Oh,” he says, his mouth hanging out. “You look… my little girl’s a looker.” He smiles. “You ready? It’s five, and if I know David, he’s going to be pacing until he sees you.”
“Is he there already?”
“He is, as are the guests. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
With the help of Jamie and our mothers, I climb into the horse-drawn carriage, which was not part of the dream wedding, but I love it and am so glad he thought of it. McKinley and Whitney are snapping pictures left and right before climbing on the Gator and following us—I’m sure snapping more pictures.
This is really happening. I’m getting married.
I’ve looked over the small knoll at least fifty times in the last ten minutes. I know she’s coming. She loves me. But that still does nothing to calm my nerves. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her. The anticipation is killing me. Of seeing her in her dress. Knowing that today she becomes Mrs. David Harris. I’m ready for it to happen.
When she called me this morning and asked if we could move up the time, I was more than happy to make the calls. Even five minutes sooner is good for me. I’ve been waiting for this moment,
if I’m honest, from the moment we started dating. Without a doubt, I knew she was the girl I was going to marry. Now here we are, my dreams about to come true.
“You doing okay, son?” my grandpa asks.
“Yeah. Just ready,” I tell him.
He chuckles. “We’ve all been there,” he says, pointing to my dad and my three best friends. The only person missing is my future father-in-law, because he’ll be walking my bride to me. I look again over the knoll, hoping to spot them. “It’s the anticipation.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait to see her in her dress.”
He gives me a knowing smile. Sure, I want to make love to her as my wife. I know that’s what he’s thinking. Might be creepy as fuck, but it’s the truth all the same. “We’ve waited so long. I’m just… ready.”
“Well, look over there.” He points over my shoulder, and sure enough, my bride and her father are riding toward us on a horse-drawn carriage. We opted for our guests to sit on hay bales, covered in quilts. It was Mom’s idea, and it was a great one. A hell of a lot easier than lugging chairs that would be wobbly on the uneven ground. We didn’t want there to be a bride side and groom side. Instead, I opted for all the bales to be together and for her to walk around them to get to me. That wasn’t a detail she painted for me, so I improvised.
I watch as the carriage stops just on the edge of the backside of the hay bales. My father-in-law climbs out first, then holds his hand out for Livy. When she stands, I lose my breath. It’s not until Gramps claps me on the shoulder and whispers, “Breathe”—something my body should know how to do without being told—that I suck in a deep breath.
She’s stunning.
