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The father of the bride, dressed in his tux, was upstairs in Hale’s and my room at Duncan and Genny’s house in Prescott, Arizona, examining my cuts and re-bandaging them.
Where he was not was down with the milling crowd who were drinking champagne and cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres from the multitude of trays held by servers who were floating around, all this happening in Genny and Duncan’s massive backyard.
And by massive, I meant it butted up against a National Forest, so it was naturefor miles.
And this included a lake.
They had their ownlake.
I waited until Tom expertly finished with the tape before I spoke.
“Tom?”
He lifted his gaze to my eyes.
“It’s okay to be a wreck,” I told him quietly. “I already know my father is going to be a disaster. For a bride, it’s an important part of the day for the dad to getverklempt.” I leaned closer to him conspiratorially. “But I’m going to let you in on a secret, and you can’t tell anyone. Especially our men. We don’t actually want you to let us go.”
Tom’s head ticked, and then I found myself in a hug so tight, I had to make do with a few wheezy breaths before he let me go.
“Apologies,” he muttered, looking surprisingly cute, considering the great Tom Pierce was embarrassed. “It’s an emotional day.”
“No apologies necessary,” I replied.
Tom wrapped his hand around my upper arm and squeezed. “I’m so glad Hale worked it out with you, sweetheart. And I’m so glad you’re here with us today.”
“Not more than me.”
He smiled.
Now there was the devilishly handsome Tom Pierce.
“I can go down and nick a bottle of champagne so we can hide up here and have some refreshments until you have to do the dreaded deed,” I offered.
His smile got bigger, but he shook his head, and made me a return offer I couldn’t refuse.
He held his bent arm out to me and asked, “May I have the honor?”
I hooked my arm in his. “Absolutely.”
I grabbed my bag on the way and Tom walked me down the stairs, through Duncan and Genny’s huge entryway and into the great room at the back of the house.
This was the family-only/backstage wedding area. There was a help-yourself bar fashioned on the edge of the island for Chloe and Judge’s nearest and dearest to get out of the crush, make themselves a drink, and have some quiet time if they wanted. The rest of the kitchen had been taken over by catering staff, with extra tables erected for prep and layout, and the rest of the vast living space currently was empty.
Tom took me to the back doors which were opened by a security guard who was standing outside, keeping people out of the house and keeping an eye on the goings on.
“We’re getting close, I’m going to go check on the bride,” Tom murmured.
Before he took off, I grabbed his hand and bid, “Good luck.”
He gave me a squeeze, shot me another smile, said, “I can’t go before I mention that you look beautiful, Elsa.”
With that, he walked back into the house.
Like father, like son.
A waiter came by, and I nabbed a glass of champagne from his tray.
Then I settled back and took in the area.
