I found Dixie in the crowd. Third row, groom's side. She must have felt my gaze because she looked up and smiled—small, private, just for us.
Then the music shifted and everyone stood.
Kendall appeared at the end of the aisle in her dress and tiara, glowing with pure joy. Her father walked beside her, beaming. She practically floated toward us despite the massive dress, bouncing slightly on her toes every few steps.
Hudson made a sound beside me—half laugh, half sob. His eyes went glassy, and he pressed one hand against his chest like he was trying to hold something in. I'd given him grief about this wedding for months, but watching him now, I got it. This was what it looked like when someone found their person.
I glanced back at Dixie. She was watching Hudson watch Kendall, tears gathering in her eyes.
Standing at this altar, watching her across the crowd, I forgot for a second that we were supposed to be pretending.
The officiant asked Hudson and Kendall to face each other.
"I, Hudson Massey, take you, Kendall Blanchette, to be my lawfully wedded wife..."
Hudson's voice was steady, sure. Kendall was crying, smiling, squeezing his hands like she'd never let go.
"For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer..."
I caught Dixie's eye again. She held my gaze, and something passed between us that had nothing to do with the five thousand dollars.
"Till death do us part."
"You may kiss the bride!"
Hudson pulled Kendall in and kissed her while everyone cheered. She threw her arms around his neck, tiara slightly askew, laughing against his mouth.
The recessional started. Hudson and Kendall walked out first, beaming at everyone. I offered my arm to Whitney, and we followed them down the aisle.
"Well, Hunter," she said as we walked, "looks like your brother found his person. Must be nice."
"It is," I said, finding Dixie in the crowd as we passed her row.
"Some of us are still waiting for our turn," Whitney continued with forced brightness.
We filed out toward the rose garden. A coordinator immediately herded the wedding party toward photos.
"Come on," I said to Dixie, catching up to her. "You're with me."
"Hunter, I'm not family—"
"You're my date. You're in the pictures."
The photographer positioned us in various groupings. When it was time for couples, Dixie ended up in front of me, my arms settling around her waist.
"Now look at each other," the photographer called.
She tilted her head back. This close I could see gold flecks in her eyes. Her pulse jumping in her throat.
"This okay?" I murmured.
"Yeah." Her voice sounded breathy.
"Now kiss!"
Her eyes widened. "We don't have to—"
I leaned down and kissed her.
