She nods as a provocative grin spreads over her full lips. “And did you bring the lumberjack pants?”
“I sure did.”
“Withthe suspenders?” she adds.
I nod. “Yep.”
“Good,” she says.
Heat flares low in my belly. “Are we almost done looking at stuff out here?”
She laughs ruefully. “Almost.”
I think back on the way Brinley addressed the final wedding issue we faced—a couple of punk ushers capturing footage of the guests before the ceremony. Many were famous, of course, and I was ready to send one of the guards over to confiscate and crush every device.
Brinley took a different approach. She simply hurried over, did a bit of joking under her breath about all the famous guests, and then relayed a story of an employee who released footage of famous faces at a private event. She got quiet during that part, but whatever she told them caused their faces to pale. Each pulled out their phone, unlocked the screen, and handed it over for her to wipe clean.
I neared the small group at that point, catching Brinley’s parting words. “Thanks, guys,” she said with an easy grin. She brought her voice down to that conspiratorial friendship mode and added, “I personally don’t really mind, you know, having photos out there, but almost everyone else heredoes.”
She waved someone over as she continued. “And just so you know, with the extra surveillance we have set up here, it will be easy to knowwhotook and leaked any photos that might come out. Best to hand your devices over to the head of the venue.” In came a 200-pound detail specialist who showed up on cue to take each phone until the event was through.
It’s fair to say she knows how to handle life in the business quite well.
I make a mental note to ask what she said to make their faces fall pancake flat. For now, we make our way to the garden, enjoying a variety of flowers, statues, and fountains as we share the highlights of the wedding and reception.
At Brinley’s request, we take a seat beneath an ornate pavilion, its brass bars hosting flowers on vines, like the pathway that brought us here, to provide the shade.
“I’m glad you had your mom walk you down the aisle,” I say. “The honor most definitely belonged to her.”
“Me too,” Brinley says with a sigh. “It was perfect.”
“She’s a great woman.” I’ll be forever in her mother’s debt for how she raised the most important person in my life. It’s the way I hope to raise our kids one day—with love, acceptance, and encouragement. I know proper upbringing takes discipline too—something neither of us feels is our forte, but I’m determined to learn the ropes and do what it takes.
Not that we’re in a rush to get to that stage, but we’re definitely looking forward to it.
While Brinley’s feelings for her father have shifted, for the most part—from anger and hurt to acceptance and even forgiveness—she doesn’t feel it necessary to invite him back into her life. If that’s something he wants,Brinley stated, he’ll have to approach her.
Neither Kyler nor Char were invited to the wedding, but I suspect that maybe someday in the future the two might come to their senses and give Brinley the apology she deserves. Still, I’m determined to make sure Brinley’s life is complete with or without them.
An image of Moonshine and Muffin comes to mind. I’m not sure what summoned it, maybe I simply miss the furry little things.
“Should we touch base with Janis and see how the odd couple is doing?” I ask. “Since we’ll soon be too preoccupied with the main event,” I add. Of course, this won’t be the first time we consummated the marriage. We took care of that directly after the ceremony before the wedding feast began. And since we took an overnight flight on a private jet with an even more private suite, we did a whole lot of what honeymooners do best.
Brinley pulls out her phone. I can tell she’s trying to hide a grin as she taps and swipes.
“What?” I say, though I already know what she’s thinking.
“You’re just as crazy about those cats as I am,” she accuses.
I frown. “Am not.”
“Are too…” Once it starts to ring, I realize it will be a face time call. Perfect, because Brinley is right. I’m crazy about those furballs and I want to see their whiskery little faces. Plus, I have something I plan to show Janis.
“Let me guess,” Janis says as she answers. “You miss these monsters already.” Janis is lounging on a recliner with a bowl of popcorn on her lap. Hovered over that bowl like the beggars they are, is Moonshine at her left and Muffin on the right.
“You guys need to learn how to discipline,” she says. “Watch this.” Janis dunks her hand in the bowl, moves to lift the popped kernel to her lips. Yet just as she opens her mouth to eat the salty snack, Moonshine bats her arm and smacks the kernel from her grip. It falls beside the bowl in time for the naughty feline to gobble it up.
“And you think this one over here’s a little angel, do you?” Janis continues. “Look what happens when I look away.” She turns her head to one side, and Muffin responds right on cue, digging her puffy paw into the bowl and scooping a popped kernel for herself.
