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One year later
Presley
I stand underneath Wade’s handmade wedding pergola, wearing the last couture dress in my collection.
Most of my designer clothes have been sold to help replenish Wade’s savings. He didn’t want the money from me, but I insisted. We’re about to get married, and what’s mine is his, as far as I’m concerned.
As long as the money Wade wired to the oligarch is tied up with the international investigation into the threats made against me, I have to make it up to Wade.
I’m just happy to have someone to share everything with. Material things, and also my time. Getting rid of some Prada and Jimmy Choos was the least I could do after he saved me from the clutches of horrible people.
I only kept this dress: a strapless, floor-length blush gown with shimmery rose gold details. It was the only piece in my collection that could pass for a bridal gown—and it’s the only one roomy enough for my current situation.
A person might feel sorry for me after everything Wade and I have been through, but as I look around this space on the eve of our wedding, I feel nothing but love. There’s love in every detail, from Wade’s beautiful woodwork on the white pergola, to the autumn blooms and vines cascading from the scattered decorative pillars, to the lanterns of all shapes and sizes lighting the space.
When Grace found out that Wade and I were considering a simple courthouse wedding due to our money situation, she begged me to let her handle the venue and the decorations.
“You have to let me do it up right,” Grace had said when we told the family about our engagement. “You were my lifeline when we lived in that crappy building, it’s a full circle moment!”
That crappy building turned into Wood Bros. Construction’s next project after they finished and sold the Ingalls house. The brothers had put their heads together on restoring the old Victorian to its former glory without displacing its current apartment residents. They started with a proposal for a community garden in the backyard, which got the attention of the town leaders. Because of the brothers’ work already done in the downtown area, community organizers Izzy and Juniper helped the brothers apply for grants that financed the purchase of the building. No more lousy plumbing and no more fire code violations.
And tonight, the backyard of that building is bursting with light and color.
Footsteps rustle nearby, and my heart warms when I hear Wade’s voice.
“What are you doing out here alone, baby? The wedding’s tomorrow night. Or did I forget? Shit, did I tell people the wrong day?”
I laugh and step out of the pergola to see my groom ambling toward me in his work clothes. Damn, how does he make even the dirtiest shirt look sexy?
“You didn’t get the day wrong,” I tell him. “The photographer wanted some shots of me alone during golden hour. I thought that was smart because that means less standing and posing for photos tomorrow. So, I took a cue from her and seized the moment. I’m absorbing everything now because tomorrow will be so busy, and I don’t want my feet to get any more swollen…”
Wade has stopped short, propping himself with one hand on a nearby tree.
“What is it?” I ask, concerned.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you in your wedding dress,” he rasps.
Uh oh. He doesn’t like it? “And?”
Wade’s throat bobs. “You look incredible,” he says, letting go of the tree and closing the distance between us. He joins me under the pergola and takes my hands in his.
“Thank you. So do you,” I say. He laughs, but I mean it wholeheartedly.
“Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding?”
I consider this for a moment, and then I go with, “I think the universe has refilled our jars when it comes to good luck. We’re good.”
I don’t have to say it because when our eyes connect, we both know what I mean. The Russian thugs are gone for good. Neither of us has heard a peep since they cleaned out Wade’s savings and international authorities began poking around. As for me, I’m still working through my guilt. Day by day, Wade shows me that he would do it all over again just to save me, whether or not I loved him.
And he didn’t seem at all worried when I told him we were going to be parents. Of twins, no less.
“The universe gave us two extra doses of luck, too,” he says, resting a warm hand on my tummy.
Wade is simply a good and decent person, ready for anything. He went to work right away, helping me prepare a nursery in his sweet little bungalow in Gold Hill.
When I decided I’d be living in Gold Hill for the foreseeable future, Ernestine said she wouldn’t visit me. Those old rivalries and grudges between the towns really are hard for some of the older folks to let go of. That didn’t last long, though. As soon as she found out Wade and I were official last year, she brought over a whole mountain of her homemade treats, and made sure Wade knew how to bake biscuits for me.
“I’m overflowing with luck right now. Look who I got to marry me? I’m the luckiest man on the planet.”
