Page 57 of Thick and Thin

It wasn’t until much later that I realized the wedding staff were communicating electronically, using earbuds with mics—all I knew was that they were pros.

Soon, we were turning the corner into the antechamber. There stood two other staff members—and my father. His smile nearly lit up that long room as I approached him, and seeing him nearly made me smile. It wasn’t just that he was there to give me away—but he wasn’t using a walker—or even a cane.

When I reached him, he held out his elbow. “I’m so proud of you, princess.”

“Thanks, dad.” Today, I actually felt like one.

Although I couldn’t remember details—walking up the aisle, saying my vows, hearing Warren pronounce us man and wife—what I did recall was Sinclair’s face and striking blue eyes, set off by the black tux against a backdrop of green leaves. It was his face that kept me focused, his strong hands that kept me steady.

Still, the day was a blur. But, as I looked back on it, especially seeing the photos, I knew I’d had a dream wedding. And the weather was perfect. An open tent was set up on the other side of the yard with tables and a serving line and, as everyone ate, the staff transformed the wedding area into a dance floor.

But my favorite part of all was late that night after everyone was gone. For the first time, Sinclair and I spent the night in the new master bedroom in the east wing. After we made love, I snuggled up against him, trying to sleep because we had an early flight the next day. I’d had to get my passport in the midst of classes and wedding preparation, because Sinclair wanted me to see Europe. Several countries were on the itinerary and we’d be visiting lots of museums.

Shifting in bed, I tried to put it all out of my mind. If I didn’t get any sleep, I’d be miserable the next day—but it was difficult, even though I was exhausted. Between the beauty of the day and the excitement of tomorrow, I couldn’t clear my mind.

Still, it drifted as I tried to recall details about the day. My memories became clearer after the actual ceremony. Because our wedding party had been so small, we had the entire family at the table. After all, the only family members not officially a part of the wedding had been Sinclair’s father and stepmother. But we kept them at the far end of Sinclair’s side and seated my father right next to me. At one point, my dad said, “I still don’t care for your new father-in-law, but Sinclair is a hell of a good man, and I couldn’t be prouder of either one of you.”

Of course, his words had set me to tears again. But I knew my makeup could handle it.

I tried to push out of my head the sour looks on the eldest Whittier’s face. At least Madeline had been pleasant.

As I lay there in bed, my mind wandered again to the rooms on this wing. If we only had two children, would they be boys or girls—or one of each? When would we decide to have them? We’d tossed around several ideas, including waiting until I was done with school, but we hadn’t quite settled on any specific time in the future. I couldn’t wait to fill all those rooms with lively, happy children—and it didn’t hurt that, as I’d gotten to know Augie and Vivian’s children better, I’d grown to adore them. The best part was what I’d originally hated about this mansion: there would always be plenty of room for our children to stay their whole lives if they wanted to. I vowed in my heart to make sure my children would be happy and loved, experiencing the best childhood imaginable—and I hoped that meant they would have fond memories of their home.

I didn’t want them feeling like they had to escape as soon as possible as I’d felt about Winchester.

There was plenty of room for my children and their future spouses and children—and I imagined someday the mansion would pass to them.

“You still awake, baby?” Sinclair asked, his voice a little gravelly.

“Yes. I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

Shifting so he could touch his nose to mine, he said, “You might have to sleep on the plane.”

“Yes, probably.”

“Or maybe I could wear you out so much now that your body has no choice but to sleep.” As he started nibbling at the bottom of my earlobe, he asked, “Would you like that?”

My body responded before my brain did. When I kissed him, I said, “I think I would, Mr. Whittier.”

“Then lie back, Mrs. Whittier. Before you go to Europe, I’m going to take you to heaven.”

No matter where I went with Sinclair, I could hardly wait.

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THE END

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