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Bartholomew stayed by the door. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.”
“Whoa, hold on.” I turned around to look at him. “What is this?”
He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “I want to be married before the baby gets here.”
“That’s fine…but you didn’t ask me.”
He stared at me for a while. “Why would I ask when I already know your answer?”
“Because it’s tradition. It’s romantic.”
“You know I’m not the kind of man to take a knee and profess my undying love.”
“Do I even get a ring?”
He grinned slightly. “Yes. I’ll show you when we get there.”
With me in a beautiful wedding dress that somehow fit me perfectly, we arrived at the church, and Bartholomew walked me inside. White candles were lit, and the priest waited at the front for our arrival.
Bartholomew was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, but I could never picture him wearing a suit anyway. He wouldn’t look right. He took my hand and walked me to the front, and that was when I saw a familiar face.
“Catherine?”
She came to me and immediately embraced me.
We held each other for a long time.
Bartholomew stepped aside to give us our moment.
After our father had died, we didn’t speak, other than that one phone call. I’d assumed we would never speak again, not after my betrayal. But here she was, holding me tight like she didn’t want to let go.
She pulled back and looked at me head on. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, Catherine.”
“I-I left him.”
My eyes searched her face, seeing the pain deep beneath the surface. “I know it hurts right now, but you did the right thing. Where are you staying?”
“Bartholomew opened his home to me. I’ve been there for a couple weeks now. He said I can live there as long as I want.”
I turned to Bartholomew and locked eyes with him.
He had no reaction. Just held my stare.
I looked at my sister again. “Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m so happy for you both.” She gave me another hug before she let me go.
I returned to Bartholomew, looking at him with new eyes. “Thank you.”
His only response was a subtle nod.
I noticed Benton there as well, standing behind Bartholomew as if they’d just finished talking.
With our hands together, we faced the priest and began the ceremony.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the small box. He opened it and presented the ring before he grabbed my hand and slipped it onto my finger. I didn’t really have a chance to look at the ring until it was already on my hand.
