“I got that vibe,” I tell him, smoothing down a particularly wild lock, “since most grooms wait longer than two weeks to drag their brides to the altar.”
“Most grooms don’t have a season starting at the end of the month.” His palm splays across my lower back, warm through the lace of my dress. “Besides, I seem to recall someone being pretty enthusiastic about the timeline.”
“I was delirious with post-proposal euphoria on top of pregnancy hormones.”
“Well, I’m just straight up happy.” His voice drops, soft and certain. “And I don’t think I’m alone in that.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be.”
His smile lights up something behind his eyes that I’ve come torecognize as purely Felix—the golden retriever heart that keeps showing up no matter how many times life has kicked at him. “Good. Because I have plans, Hart. Big ones.”
“It’s Barlowe now, technically.”
“You’ll always be Hart to me.” He pulls me closer, and I rest my cheek against his chest, breathing in the woodsy scent of his soap mixed with the cooling air of evening. “My stubborn, beautiful, takes-no-shit Hart who holds mine in the palm of her hand.”
Across the dance floor, I watch our friends and family also enjoying our celebration. Sadie—the other Mrs. Barlowe—with her head thrown back, laughing at something Ian just whispered into her ear, while Molly leans into Chase near the cake table. Riva is trying to teach Molly’s twins, plus Iris and Jake, an elaborate dance routine that has Taylor and Eric grinning widely as they cheer on the group. Avah catches my eye and raises her champagne glass in a toast, Jonathan’s arm draped stiffly around her shoulders. I donotlike that guy, but every time I voice my concerns to Avah, she brushes them aside. Their elopement is happening before the end of summer, and I’m not giving up.
But tonight is about being happy. And speaking of happy…
I smile at Ellie, who’s sitting at the edge of the dance floor, legs splayed wide, Hopper sprawled at her feet. Her flower girl dress is streaked with icing, and her wispy curls escape the careful work Sadie did this morning. She’s chattering to the dog like he’s her most trusted confidant.
My heart expands until it feels too big for my chest, pressing against my ribs like it’s trying to make room for everyone I love. I’m kind of getting used to the sensation, and I definitely like it.
“I got a call from the landscape company earlier,” Felix murmurs against my hair. “They’re installing the sandbox and playset on Monday.” I hear the smile in his voice. “I might have gone overboard with the slide situation.”
“How overboard?”
“There are three of them, all at different heights, which I think is for developmental purposes.”
“Developmental purposes.” A laugh bubbles up from deep in my chest. “Nice.”
“Also, the nursery wallpaper samples arrived. I narrowed it down to seventeen options.”
“Seventeen?”
“Down from thirty-three. I’m showing restraint.”
I pull back to look at him, this man who declared last Christmas that he didn’t want children and now has nursery wallpaper samples and sandboxes and a whole heart full of love he’s been waiting his entire life to give.
The bump is barely visible under my flowing white dress, but his hand finds it anyway, palm warm and protective over the life we created. “How do you feel?” The teasing fades from his voice, and awareness shoots up my spine at the tenderness that replaces it. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s been a perfect day, and I feel good.” I mean it. The cramping and bleeding that sent me to the hospital were scary, but my most recent doctor’s visit confirmed that our baby is healthy and strong, growing exactly as they should be. “I feelperfect, actually.”
“Fee! Pipey!” Ellie’s voice carries across the dance floor, and we both turn to see her running toward us, Hopper hobbling along behind her on his three legs. “We dance!”
Felix scoops her up in one smooth motion, settling her on his hip while keeping his other arm around me. I lean in to kiss her cheek, loving how she smells like vanilla frosting and the lavender soap I used for her bath this morning. Her small hand pats my cheek, then Felix’s, as if confirming we’re both real and here and hers.
“Ellie dance,” she announces. “Hoppy, too.”
“Hoppy’s a great dancer,” Felix tells her with a grin as the dog circles our feet.
The three of us—four, counting the baby—sway together as the sun finally slips behind the mountains and the string lights take over. Ellie rests her head on Felix’s shoulder, her eyes heavy with the exhaustion of a toddler who’s had the best day of her short life. Felix presses a kiss to her temple, then turns to brush his lips against mine.
“I love you,” he says, quiet enough that only I can hear. “All of you. More than football, more than anything I’ve ever loved in my entire life.”
“Even more than your sourdough starter?”
“Don’t push it, Hart.”
