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Now he brings everyone I hold dear to the place I love, where I found myself.
A small army of staff huddle in their hotel-supplied jackets and vests, waiting with smiles and empty hands to collect luggage.
“There’s Mama!” Even with her longer curls, I can still pick her out of a crowd. I wave.
I hear a faint holler of “Abigail! We’re here!” and she waves back, as does my father who’s standing beside her, free of his walking cast, healthy and strong again.
For all the fussing that Mama did about a wedding in Alaska, she’s been buzzing around town with excitement since the bridal shower. By now everyone knows her full itinerary, from the glacier landing to the bear sightseeing trip we have planned for them and the Enderbeys in the coming days, as well as the fact that she refused Penthouse Cabin One for accommodations on account of not wanting to be eaten by wild animals.
I wave at Aunt May, Reverend Enderbey and Celeste, and Jed, who has come solo. Henry sent his jet to Pittsburgh and flew them all here together.
“Nervous?” Violet asks, sidling up beside me.
“Yes,” I admit with a laugh. “I love this place so much, and I want everyone else to love it too. I think I’ll be crushed if they don’t.” I know that sounds silly, and yet it feels like such a big part of Henry and me—who we are to each other.
“They’d have to be crazy not to love it here. I mean, come on.” She points behind us, drawing my attention to the grandiose lodge that towers over the water.
“I know, right? But Mama could find fault in a newborn baby.” And she’ll point it out too. As far as Henry goes, she has hovered in lukewarm territory for months, which is better than that strange alien-abducted cheery version of her last fall and a thousand times better than the version who faked a heart attack to keep us apart.
Violet nudges my shoulder with hers. “Don’t worry. They’re gonna love it.”
“They will.” I nudge her back. “But let’s try to get Mama drunk just in case.”
“On it!” She rubs her mitted hands together. “And just so I have my stories straight, is Henry still my cousin?”
“Yes. We’d rather get through the next few days without her theatrics. But we will tell them the truth after the wedding.” Less chance of Mama deciding Henry is the devil again and yelling her objections during the ceremony. Then we’ll pray Mama can keep her mouth shut for Violet’s benefit. Given her aim to rid Greenbank of all gossip magazines, there is hope.
Violet shrugs. “I like her. I think she’s funny.”
“She issomething, all right.” Henry is suddenly behind us, one arm slung over each of our shoulders. “But she’s family.”
Violet steals a bashful glance up at him before refocusing on the coming ferry, getting ready to dock.
I can see their faces clearly now—the awe filling them as they take in Henry’s special place for the first time. I know that feeling. I stood in that spot, wearing that same look a year ago.
Had I known then that this place was nothing compared to the man behind it, who would capture my heart and become myeverything.
“So, hey, does this mean I’ll get a matching sweater next Christmas too?” Violet asks suddenly.
I grin as Henry’s jaw clenches with annoyance. “Definitely.”
EPILOGUE
“Ithought we agreed to no work,” Henry scolds, watching me pull out my laptop and set it on the floor in front of my lounger.
I’m thrumming with excitement as I wave him over. “This isn’t work. Joel sent the pictures.” He promised to send them as quickly as possible, but I expected that would take weeks.
Henry strides leisurely across the deck to the shaded area where I lay, stomach down. His cerulean board shorts are settled low enough on his waist to show off the cut of his pelvis. “Why are you hiding here?”
“You’re asking me that? Really?” His skin is a rich golden brown after almost a week under the Mediterranean sun. Meanwhile, I burned so badly on the first day of our honeymoon, the only touching Henry got to do for two days was rubbing aloe vera on my inflamed body.
“You’ll be fine. You didn’t put on enough sunscreen before.” Henry pushes my legs apart to straddle my body just below my ass. “I need to touch land. I was thinking we could go to Monte Carlo tomorrow, if you’re good with that? Preston’s there. We could have dinner with him.”
“Can Merrick come?” I tease, earning my left butt cheek a smack as I wait for the satellite reception to find a signal. Had I known Henry owned a yacht that he kept docked off the coast of France, I might have been able to guess his secret plans for our honeymoon. But I’ve never asked him to list his assets and, to be honest, being continuously surprised is more fun.
I already own the only parts of him I care about—his heart, his mind, his adoration.
“Ugh! Come on!” I tap the key repeatedly, wishing my computer would hurry up.
