It’s snowing in October.
Big, soft flakes drift down over Stonewater Ranch, blanketing the world in white. I shake my head and smile out the window, hands tucked into my vest pockets. Figures. She showed up in a flood, stayed through a snowstorm, and now on our wedding day the heavens are dusting the land like a fairytale.
It's perfect.
“Look at him,” Liam stage-whispers behind me. “He’s staring off into space again, grinning like a fool.”
Will laughs. “Leave the man alone. He’s clearly happy.”
I turn toward them, my grin still stubbornly plastered on my face. “Just wait. One day, you’ll meet someone who stops your world just by walking into the room. Then you’ll get it.”
Liam groans. “Not me, cousin. I’m destined for the bachelor life. Fast horses, faster women.”
Will mutters, “Sounds exhausting.”
Liam ignores him. “Speaking of women, did Charlie really say I’m not allowed to flirt with Tish?”
“She did,” I say, leveling a look at him. “And I’m backing her up.”
He throws his hands up dramatically. “Unbelievable. You two arebothcockblockers.”
But there’s something off in his tone. Something I’ll have to ask him about later.
Will snorts into his coffee. “That’s rich coming from the guy who once got caught making out in the hayloft at his parents’ anniversary party.”
Which wasn’t that long ago…
I laugh, shaking my head. “Let’s just focus on getting me married without incident, yeah?”
Outside, the wind picks up just enough to rattle the windowpanes, and the flakes swirl like confetti. I glance back out and feel that familiar punch in the chest. The one that only comes when I think about her. Charlie. My soon-to-be wife. God, I still can’t believe I get to call her that.
A knock at the door makes all three of us turn.
Phern cracks it open, peeking in. “The bride would like a word with you.”
My stomach tightens. “Everything okay?”
She hesitates, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Phern?” I ask again, sharper this time.
She just shakes her head and disappears down the hallway.
I follow in long strides, catching up fast. Tish is outside the bedroom, arms crossed and looking exasperated.
“Thank God,” she breathes when she sees me.
“What’s going on? Is it the baby?”
Her silence is all the answer I need before she steps aside and gestures to the door. “Your stubborn-as-hell bride is in there. Good luck.”
I push into the room and stop dead.
They’ve turned our bedroom into a bridal suite. Candles flicker. Flowers drape across the windowsill. And in front of it, lit by soft natural light and snow filtering in through the glass, stands Charlotte.
She’s in a white robe, the word BRIDE glittering across the back in silver sequins. She’s barefoot, and still.
“Darlin’?” I say softly, stepping in and shutting the door behind me. “You okay? Is the baby okay?”
