John squeezes my hand. “Do you like everything?”
“I love it.” I sound breathless. That’s because I am.
“Who would have thought ‘Christmas with the boss’ would turn into ‘Christmas with my husband’?” I laugh, caught up in my emotions and the revelry around me.
Someone pulls John away, and I go to set my bouquet on the head table. Someone bumps into me.
Mom.
She hesitates before hugging me.
“Oh, Abby,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You look beautiful. I’m proud of you.”
I stiffen. Her display of affection catches me off guard. But her hug feels better than I thought it would. “Thanks, Mom.”
She pulls back to wipe her eyes. “Things haven’t been easy between us. But I love you, and I’m sorry for how I treated you all these years. Seeing you today, so happy, glowing, and confident, I may have underestimated you.”
It’s not a full apology. Okay, not even a small one, but it’s a start. “I love you, Mom. There’s always room for a do-over, right?”
She nods. “Enjoy your reception. Save a dance for your old mom?”
“You got it.”
I walk a few feet when someone grabs my shoulder. “Abby.”
I turn to see Rachel, clutching a flute of champagne like a lifeline.
“Congratulations.” The word sounds as if it’s being forcibly extracted from her mouth. “The wedding is…nice.”
That’s a glowing review from her. “Thanks. I’m glad you could make it.”
An awkward silence stretches between us. Rachel sighs. “Look, Abby. Things have never been good between us. I’m… I’m sorry for what I said at the bridal shop. You proved me wrong.”
I blink, wondering if an alien took over Rachel’s body. An apology from her is as rare as a solar eclipse. “I… Thank you. That means a lot.”
She takes a large swig of champagne. “Be happy, okay? Maybe put in a good word for me with John’s single cousins?”
I can’t help but laugh. That’s pure Rachel. “Sure.”
We eat a delicious dinner, dance, and laugh. So much laughter. Our wedding is so fun. I only wish Powerfluff could be here, but she would only cause chaos and most likely destroy the gorgeous Christmas tree with our wedding gifts under the branches.
Sarah corners me by the chocolate fountain—because of course there’s a chocolate fountain.
She raises her arched eyebrows. “How does it feel to be Mrs. Barrington?”
I sigh, something I’ve been doing a lot of since I met John. “It’s the best feeling ever. I still can’t believe John never hated me.”
“I know. He deserves an acting award for his performance.”
We giggle.
As the night flies by, John and I finally get a moment to ourselves by sneaking out onto a balcony overlooking the town. Lights twinkle, and it’s a beautiful sight, but the cold air shocks me. I shiver.
“Here.” John drapes his jacket over my shoulders, the same way he did on our first dinner date. “Can’t have my wife turning into an icicle on our wedding night.”
“My wife.” I snuggle into his jacket, breathing in his scent. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me, too.” John stands behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder. His arms go around me, and joy overflows.
