A soft knock at the door interrupts what was about to be a lighthearted lecture about not giving Chris shit today. Abby shouts, “Who is it?”
“Hawk.”
Abby cracks the door, bracing it with her body to keep him from coming inside. “You do know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, right?”
“Pretty sure we’re long past bad luck, sweetheart.” The sound of his voice makes my pulse race just the tiniest bit.
Abby laughs. “You still aren’t coming in here.”
“Can you at least open the door enough to take this?”
“Fine. Close your eyes.” She sighs dramatically. She waits a second, then cracks the door, the old hinges creaking slightly. When she turns back toward me, Abby is holding a white box wrapped with a matching satin bow, a card tucked neatly beneath the ribbon.
“He asked me to give this to you,” she says softly, placing the box in my hands.
My throat tightens. “I told him no gifts.”
Abby’s mouth quirks. “You tell him a lot of things. And does he listen?”
I pull the envelope from beneath the bow. When I open it, a gold locket slips into my palm. It’s small and simple, but when I open it, my breath catches. Inside is a photo of my father in his Air Force dress uniform: broad-shouldered, proud, eyes crinkled in the corners, like he’s about to laugh, even though he should be serious.
My thumb brushes over the photo, my lower lip quivering. As my vision blurs, I pull the card from the envelope.
I know this doesn’t replace him not being here today…
The words bleed across the paper as a teardrop falls upon it. I set the locket down carefully and lift the lid of the box, finding another note resting on top of the white tissue paper. I pick it up with trembling hands.
These are so he can still walk you down the aisle.
I peel back the tissue paper—and choke on a sob. Inside lies a pair of shoes, soft and simple, upholstered with the same cerulean blue as my father’s military dress shirt. A broken sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. “Chris…”
Outside the door, his voice softens instantly. “Don’t cry, baby.”
“How did you…” My voice catches, the words dissolving into another tearful laugh.
“Your mom helped me,” he says simply. “See you soon, wife.”
I turn, finding Mom’s reflection in the mirror. Her fingers are pressed to her lips, and tears are already sliding down her cheeks.
“I had some of your father’s things still in the attic,” she whispers, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, being careful not to ruin her makeup. “He’d have wanted to be part of today.” She gives a shaky smile. “Now put them on before we all ruin our makeup.”
I laugh through my tears, pressing a hand to my mouth. Abby crouches beside me, unwrapping the tissue the rest of the way, her own eyes suspiciously wet. “Damn it, Hawk,” she mutters, blotting the corner of her eyes. “You sentimental bastard.”
Mom crouches beside her, guiding my foot into one of the shoes. The satin molds perfectly to my foot, the color barely peeking out beneath the hem of my gown. When the second shoe is slipped on, I can’t hold it together anymore. A sob breaks from somewhere deep inside me, shaking me from my core, like loss and joy sharing the same breath.
Mom rests her hand against my back. “He’s here, sweetheart. I know he is.”
I nod through tears, my chest aching. Somehow, impossibly, I can feel him. The weight of his hand on my shoulder, the warmth of his voice, the faint scent of his cologne in the air.
Abby stands, pressing the locket into my hand. “You should wear this,” she insists softly.
I fasten it around my neck, the chain delicate and cold, and the pendant settles over my heart.
“Thank you,” I choke, looking between them.
“Perfect,” Mom whispers, straightening the hem of my gown. “He’d be so proud of you.”
Mom cups my cheek, her eyes glistening. “You’ve carried this weight for so long, sweetheart. Today, you get to let it go. Just love him. That’s enough.”
