My parents came round to the idea very quickly once we told them. They ended up extending their visit to New York for an extra week after I came out of hospital because they were having such a wonderful time with us. Dad and Sterling found a mutual appreciation of art to talk about, and a shared guilty pleasure of Reese’s peanut butter cups after I brought some home and they all disappeared within the day. Sinclair can’t stop shopping for baby things, and even Sullivan was talking to me about the safest car seats a few days ago.
Baby Beaufort will be so swarmed with love from everyone.
I take in a deep breath and look at myself in the full-length mirror, the warm, hazy breeze flowing in from the open balcony doors next to me.
“I’m ready,” I tell Mum and Sophie. “I don’t want to make Sterling wait a second longer. Let’s go get married.”
STERLING
Sullivan’s eyesare narrowed and focused on the start of the white carpeted aisle that’s been laid out over boards on the sand.
“I’m turning around, Son.”
“As best man, it’s my duty to look out for the bride, so you turn at the correct time.”
I chuckle, and he grunts his disapproval.
“And as your father who hasn’t seen his bride since after we all had dinner together last night, I can tell you that’s not happening. I want to see her the second she steps into view.”
“Age has made you stubborn,” he clips.
“Age has given me everything I ever dreamed of. You, Sinclair, Molly, my family… and now Hallie and the baby.”
My son’s usual straight mouth curls into a proud smile as his eyes track to where Molly is waiting with Sinclair near the start of the aisle.
“It’ll be nice to have another little one for Molly to play with.”
“You’re a great father to her,” I say, clasping him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, Dad. I learned from the best.”
I press my lips together, scrubbing my other hand around my jaw, unable to form words. But all I need to say is reflected back at me in his eyes as he nods and lays his hand over mine.
A sparkle of silver catches the light amongst the line of palm trees and the breath is snatched from my body by her standing there, glowing in the sun, her arm linked through her father’s.
Hallie.
Perfect.
Mine.
“Take a breath, Dad,” Sullivan instructs in a low whisper.
I do as he says, my chest expanding as her smile grows in response to something her father says to her. Her attention is caught briefly by something hidden within the trees and she stops walking, inclining her body toward whatever it is. She stands there for a moment, just looking.
Then she turns.
Our eyes lock and my heart dances its way up into my throat. Her face is glowing like a diamond, polished until its beauty is blinding. Her delicate bouquet is made of crystals—not flowers—each glimmering brightly. But nothing can shine brighter than the smile that takes over her face as she parts her lips and breathes one word to herself.
My name.
It doesn’t matter that she’s still far away. I know that’s what just left her lips because I’ve committed every time she says it to my memory. Stored them away to keep them safe. To treasure them for eternity.
She chose me.
I am the only choice she ever wanted to make.
Gentle notes of music fill the air as Seasons’ pianist, Vincent, plays to one side of the flower-arch serving as an altar. He insisted on flying his own piano over here to play. This one is white, not like the new black Grand we now have in Seasons. The replacement Vincent chose after the fire.
