I feel something being placed on my head and automatically lift my chin.
“Put your head down,” Brady instructs.
I feel something slide against my scalp on top of my head, like the teeth of a comb. Brady mutters to himself, then takes a deep breath.
“Okay,” he says, the excitement in his tone barely contained.
His fingers work at the back of my head, and he gently pulls off the blindfold.
I gasp when I see it. When I see itall.
“Brady, I…” My fingers trail over my lips as I try to come up with something,anything, to say that will be appropriate.
Brady sinks down into the chair beside me at the table. He watches me closely, gauging my reaction.
“I don’t know what flavor you would’ve chosen, but I hope this is something you like.” He points at the small two-tiered cake sitting atop a silver cake stand.Grandma’s cake stand.
“It’s lemon cake with vanilla buttercream.”
Finally my ability to speak comes back to me. “It sounds incredible. Where did you buy it?”
“I made it.”
“You made it?You?”
He nods. He looks proud but nervous.
“Brady that’s so sweet. Why did you make me a cake?”
He licks his lips and purses them. “It’s a wedding cake.”
I stare, unable to speak. I reach for a finger on my left hand, seeking out a ring I’m not wearing. Speechless. Breathless. Rendered immobile. Brady’s gesture has reached down into the deepest part of me and filled me.
“Look on your plate,” he motions at the spot on the table in front of me.
I look down. A square gold box sits on a dessert plate.
“Can I open it?” I ask, reaching down.
Brady nods, giving me the go-ahead. Gently, I lift the top off the box and peer down. Nestled in cloth is a sapphire blue picture frame. There is no picture in the frame.
“That’s your something blue and your something new. And the veil is borrowed and old.” Brady watches me. “It was the best I could do.”
Oh my gosh, a veil. I’m wearing a veil. I didn’t even feel it. I lift my hand and capture the fabric on my back. I pull it to the side, rubbing the gauzy fabric with my fingers.
“This was my grandma’s,” I say incredulously. “You… you’re… giving me a wedding day.”
Despite the joy I feel inside at the kindness and compassion inside this man, I begin to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I sputter, as Brady leans forward and wraps his arms around me.
“Don’t worry. I think it’s normal for brides to cry on their wedding day.”
His joke stops the tears and I laugh.
“I can’t believe you would do something like this for me.” I pull away and look at him. “Actually, I can.” I kiss him, long and deep, hoping he can taste my gratitude. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?”
“You existed.” Brady kisses the tip of my nose. “You deserve everything good, Addison.”
