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I did like the idea of a crib in my studio, so I could work and spend time with the little one. Killian loved carpentry, and my hope was he’d retire as sheriff and setup a drafting table in the studio, so we could work together. I didn’t want to be that far from him, wanted every second I could have with him because I knew, all too well, how fast it could be taken away.
I wasn’t going to think about that now, though. We stepped outside; Graham and Killian were on ladders hanging the sign. Brock had his hands in his pockets watching them, a little smile on his face that grew warmer when he saw me.
“I like the name,” he said.
I glanced up at the sign that Killian had designed. The store was called Cupcake. “It seemed fitting.” That’s when I heard him. My head jerked to Brock, who was looking at the sign. “Do you hear that?”
Brock’s eyes found mine. “Hear what?”
“The turkey?”
Silence followed, before he said, “No.” He studied me and added, “He’s dead. You know that right?”
Logically I knew that, but I swear there were times I heard a turkey. “I know, but I hear him.”
His expression went soft. “Maybe you do. He did become a legend, and if he were to haunt anyone, it would be the girl who saved his life.”
Was I really imagining the turkey? I supposed it was possible, like with my parents, I wanted to keep that memory of the life I lived before this one. “I guess.” Though I kind of wished he was walking around. It wasn’t possible. He had been in New York, and we were in Wyoming, still part of me wished that piece of my past followed me.
I checked my watch. “Killian, honey. Your parents are due in an hour.” We were telling them about the baby.
He glanced back, nodded, then finished with Graham. Stepping down, he joined me, dropped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me up against his side. “Good?” he asked.
“Perfect.”
We said our goodbyes; he took my hand and dragged me to his truck. “An hour you said?” He flashed me a grin. “Plenty of time.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cedar
I stood infront of the mirror and knew this was and would always be my best design.
My wedding gown, the floral lace halter-top, knowing how much Killian loved them, and a long, full tulle skirt with a slit that reached my mid-thigh. My hair was pulled up into a knot, and my feet were bare. My bouquet was something borrowed and blue, bluebells, courtesy of Brock.
Killian wanted to get married the same day Ashley had been taken into custody. I wanted time to put something together. I’d asked for a month, we compromised on two weeks.
Tears had been threatening for the whole of those weeks, when I ordered the cake and arranged for the flowers. Buying the fabric for my gown and spending hours and hours sewing it. All the things, as a little girl, I thought I would do with my mom. All the mother-daughter moments we thought we’d have. “I wish you were here, wish Dad was walking me down the aisle, wish you were here helping me get ready. How I wish you knew Killian, saw how happy he makes me, how much he loves me. I found what you had, slow to fall, but it’s forever.” I touched my stomach. “My children will know you, because even though we only had eighteen years, I have a lifetime of memories.”
I wiped at my eyes when I heard a knock at the door. “Come in.”
Maureen peeked in, then her eyes went bright when she closed the door and crossed the room to me. She cried big fat tears when we told her a grandbaby was on the way, and, to my surprise, Jared had too. “Cedar, you look so beautiful.” She touched a curl that had fallen free of the knot. “They’re here with you,” she whispered.
Another tear rolled down my cheek. “I know.” Then I reached for her hand. “I’m so glad you are.”
Tears started rolling down her cheeks. “Me too.” She stepped back. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. She walked to the door, glanced back and said, “Try to take it all in. It goes by so fast.” I knew she was talking about the day, but so did life. Over before you knew it. She disappeared. There was another knock, and Brock stepped into the room.
Seeing my best friend in a black suit, the tie the color of the bluebells I held, nearly had me losing it. His hair was still too long, hanging over his eyes, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. He didn’t move from the door, studying me as I studied him. I knew what he was thinking, that it should have been us. It would always hurt, the life we thought we’d have, the dreams we thought we’d make. But he was here; he was in my life again. Different than what we’d wanted, but we were still connected…still family.
“I’m never going to fucking like him.” Brock’s voice was rough. “He’s living my dream with my girl.”
It took everything I had to keep from sobbing, breathing in and out. He walked to me, pulled me close. “But he loves you. He’ll always put himself between you and danger, and you love him.” He pressed a kiss on my forehead, looked down at me and grinned. “So, I might not like him, but I respect him.”
“From the moment I stepped into that fort...”
He smiled at the memory. “We were bound.”
