I can’t help it. I almost laugh.
“I saw the article,” Sarah says, and her voice gentles. “The gossip piece about Foxtown brides and rebounding and all that garbage.”
“What if people think—”
“Oh, people will think whatever they want. Trust me, I know.” She takes my hand, and her expression shifts into something quieter, more serious, though the warmth never leaves her eyes. “The point is, I almost let that stuff get to me once. Almost let other people’s opinions drown out the voice that actually matters.”
My throat is so tight I can barely swallow.
“What God builds doesn’t break because some columnist needs clickbait,” Sarah says firmly. Then her dimpled grin returns. “Besides, have you seen the way that duke looks at you? Damian says he’s never seen anyone that far gone, and Damian would know, because he was that far gone over me for years and wouldn’t admit it.”
I can only laugh. I always love how Sarah talks about her own fairytale romance, which also took the world by storm when it happened.
Sarah stands, smoothing her dress. “So. Are we done spiraling? Because your makeup artist is hovering in the hallway and she looks terrified.”
“We’re done,” I promise.
“Good.” She beams. “Oh, and Evianne? Welcome to the club. Foxtown brides stick together.”
She’s right.
Veil and I had stayed up late before talking about everything, our fears, our pasts, our faith. He’d told me about how his father had believed, how his mother still does, how he’d drifted away from it after his father died but never quite let go.
“I think,” he’d said, holding my hand in the dark, “God put you in my life to bring me back. To remind me what real love looks like.”
And I’d cried. Again.
Because I’d been thinking the same thing about him.
A knock on the door.
“Come in,” I call, expecting Lady Hampton.
But instead, it’s—
“Mom?”
I’m on my feet before I can think, before I can breathe, before I can process how she’s here, why she’s here—
“Oh, Mom, I can’t believe you’re really here!”
She’s crying. Smiling and crying at the same time, and her hands are already moving before she’s even fully through the door.
‘Surprise,’she signs, and then I’m in her arms, hugging her so tight I can barely breathe.
“How—when—”
‘The Duke called me,’Mom signs when I pull back, her hands framing my face between signs.‘We both wanted to surprise you.’
Fresh tears stream down my face at her words, and Mom wipes my tears away gently.‘Look at you,’ she signs. ‘You’re so beautiful.’
“I’m getting married,” I whisper. “In two hours. Is this crazy? Am I crazy?”
Mom pulls back slightly, studying my face. Really studying it. And then she smiles.
That knowing, mother’s smile that says she sees everything I’m not saying.
‘I just have to look at you,’she signs softly, ‘and I know. God chose him for you.’
