And he let her. For now.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
And luckily for both of them, he was a very persistent man.
3
Thanksgiving Day, Lawson’s Landing, Texas
“You look gorgeous,” Suzette said, giving her daughter a once-over and smoothing an invisible wrinkle in Essie’s gown. It was a simple, long-sleeved A-line of silk, the skirt flowing in a soft sweep behind her. The true beauty of it lay in the graceful drape of the neckline — modest in front, falling in a deep cowl at the back. Instead of a veil, a single strand of crystals circled her head like starlight caught in her dark hair.
A tremulous smile tugged at her daughter’s lips. “Thank you.”
Suzette’s heart ached with a mix of love and loss. Standing beside her, their reflections caught side by side in the mirror. Mother and daughter, past and future.
“I wish Dad was here,” Essie whispered.
Suzette’s throat closed. “He is, my love. Here.” She pressed her hand to Essie’s chest, fighting the sting in her eyes. Braam would’ve loved this moment — to see their daughter radiant and whole, to know she’d found her family and made peace with her past.
“It’s not the same.” Essie dropped her head for a moment before lifting her gaze again. “When Adam and I married … I’m the one who insisted on the registry office wedding, not Adam. I couldn’t do the whole church and walking down the aisle thing without Dad. When Max asked me what type of wedding I wanted, I didn’t think twice. But now …” She trailed off, exhaling softly.
Moving closer, Suzette traced a finger across her daughter’s forehead and down her cheek. “Braam would’ve been so happy for you, my love. And when we walk down that path today toward the man who loves you so very much, Braam will be right there with us in spirit.” She smiled gently. “And most likely leading the angels in some heavenly song to urge you along.”
Essie gave a thready laugh. “You’re right.”
Suzette reached for the bouquet of sweet peas and handed it over, the delicate scent rising between them as she crooked her elbow. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Together, they descended the staircase, the hush of silk against wood filling the stillness. In the wide hallway, Essie paused before the family photo gallery. Suzette’s heart stuttered when her gaze landed on the adoption-day photo — her and Braam flanking a small, dark-haired girl who hadn’t yet believed she was theirs. Essie had always said it was her most treasured memory, the moment she finally belonged to someone.
Suzette’s gaze studied the other pictures. The Lawson family. The life Essie had found here. Her throat tightened. Now her daughter truly belonged.
The family had opened their home and hearts to her, too.
But truthfully, where did that leave her?
You did your job, she reminded herself.You protected the little child when no one else could. You gave her a home. A new life.
Minutes later, they entered the marquee and walked down the petal-strewn path to where Max waited beneath the white canopy, his baby daughter nestled safely in his arm.
And then Suzette’s gaze shifted. To the man standing beside him.
Justin.
No.
JK Kenzie.
Unreachable.
The man who had lived in her imagination. He had been a comfort in her darkest moments, the timbre of his voice soothing when the tears flowed. He’d made her laugh with his ridiculous one-liners, made her gasp when he leapt from moving vehicles or off cliffs, and made her swoon when that heart-melting smile filled the screen. He’d even kept her company during her private moments of self-care; a familiar presence when the loneliness pressed in.
Only, he wasn’t the man in her imagination anymore. He was flesh and blood, standing a short distance away, dressed in a bespoke navy suit and open-necked white shirt, more compelling, more intoxicating, more dangerous to her senses than she’d ever imagined.
But it was still a dream.
Because why on earth would a man like JK Kenzie, a superstar adored by millions, give her, an ordinary woman long past the age of fairy-tale romances, from a small South African fishing village, so much as a second look?
