“Oh,shit.” I wince, cheeks burning. “Didn’t mean to let that slip. I, um . . . yeah, anyway—”
“Daisy,” he says, stern and low, like a headmaster about to assign detention. It’s so frigging hot. “My god. We’re circling back to that later. But first, rewind to the ‘loving me’ bit . . .”
His face shifts—like someone flipped a switch—and suddenly he’s all lit up, eyes bright and crinkling at the corners. Before I can stammer another word, his hands cup my face, and he’s kissing me.
Not a sweet, gentle kiss either. This is the kind of kiss that makes you forget your own name, your address, and possibly how breathing works. He kisses me like a man who’s finally letting go of every rule he’s ever made.
Water’s still dripping from his hair, splattering my cheeks, but I don’t care—I’m too busy tugging at his soggy shirt, half tempted to climb inside it with him.
When he pulls back—just enough to press his forehead to mine—his breath’s coming in rough gasps, hands still cradling my face.
“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice husky.
“I love you,” I whisper, “even if you’re a total nutter who just cannonballed a carriage into a lake.”
He laughs then—deep, rolling, the kind that shakes his whole frame and peels years off him. “Good. Great.Excellent.” He beams, all teeth and dimples. “So, will you walk down the aisle with me?”
I’m laughing too, chest so full it might burst—until it hits me, and my smile falters. “Edward . . . Sophia doesn’t want me there.”
“Trust me, she does.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the friendship bracelet I made her years ago. “She’s sorry. And after Giles, you’re the only person she really wants there. Thatis blindingly obvious. Maybe even more than Giles, though don’t tell him I said that.”
“Okay,” I say softly, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “I will.”
“Brilliant. Now we just need to figure out how to get there.” He glances around at the carnage he’s created—the lake, the scattered horses, the half-submerged carriage—and for the first time, looks sheepish.
BEEP.
We both spin toward the noise just in time to see Richard roll up on the world’s largest, most ridiculous industrial lawnmower, grinning like this is the most fun he’s had in years.
He tips his cap. “Right, lovebirds—let’s go!”
EPILOGUE
Edward
Dancing has never beenmy forte. It falls somewhere between polite conversation with strangers at charity galas and sitting through hospital board meetings—things one must endure from time to time but never truly enjoy.
And yet, here I am, at my sister’s wedding, arms wrapped around the woman responsible for me launching a carriage into a lake, and for the first time in longer than I care to admit, I feel . . . content.
More than that. Happy. A word I don’t use lightly. A word that, until her, hasn’t felt within reach since Millie died.
Somewhere—beyond the weight of this moment, beyond my general skepticism about fate, or destiny, or anything remotely spiritual—I know Millie is watching. And I know she’s smiling. Approving of the life I want to build with Daisy.
And for the first time in my life, I know, without a doubt, that I’ve got it right.
The ceremony, miraculously, went off without a hitch, all things considered. We were “fashionably late”—an understatement of considerable magnitude, and entirely my responsibility.
Fortunately, I have an endless supply of black tuxedos. And, luckily, Sophia had the foresight to have extra wedding shirts on hand. Though, if I’m honest, I would have walked her down the aisle in soaking wet clothes, mud-streaked shoes, and dripping hair—as long as it meant Daisy knew how much I loved her.
Sophia, to her immense credit, found humor in the whole ordeal. I think she’d been so wound up about everything being perfect that my incompetence actually helped. By the reception, she’d already worked it into a charming anecdote, as if her older brother making a spectacle of himself in front of the entire Cavendish extended circle was nothing more than a footnote in the day’s events.
The bridesmaids—Daisy included—ended up arriving in a hastily arranged fleet of cars, and the wedding proceeded as if the heir to the Cavendish estate hadn’t just enacted a scene from a Victorian melodrama.
And now, here we are. The first dance of the bridal party, my beautiful Daisy pressed close to me, the rest of the room fading into a blur. Every pair of eyes in this damn place is glued to us, but I don’t care. All I can think about is tonight—when it’s just me and her, tangled up in each other with no one watching. I’m going to take my time with her. I’m going to worship her, the way she deserves.
I lean down, my lips brushing her forehead. “You’re beautiful.”
Her deep hazel eyes are sparkling, her tousled hair a little wild. Inside and out, she’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.
