I opened my arms, and she launched herself into my lap, vibrating with excitement. “Not yet, honey, but soon.”
She was only four years old, and a day like today didn’t come around often.
She reached into her basket and grabbed a fistful of pink rose petals.
“You have to wait for the right moment,” I told her, gently prying her fingers open before she could scatter petals all over the floor. “Remember what we practiced?”
Olivia nodded solemnly, though I could tell she was already plotting ways to throw flowers at the earliest possible opportunity.
She had her father’s stubborn streak and my impatience, which made for a delightfully chaotic combination.
A knock at the door made us all turn, and then Jameson was stepping inside, looking impossibly handsome in his dark suit.
He’d trimmed his beard for the occasion and pulled his hair back, but he still looked like the rugged mountain man I’d fallen for in that cabin five years ago. Some things never changed.
His eyes found Cindy first, and his whole face softened. “You look beautiful, Cin. He’s not going to know what hit him.”
Cindy’s smile wobbled, tears threatening. “Don’t you dare make me cry. Helen spent an hour on my makeup.”
Jameson held up his hands in surrender, then crossed the room to where Olivia and I were sitting. He pulled us both into his arms, and I breathed in the familiar scent of him.
“How are my two favorite women in the world?” he murmured against my hair.
“Hey now,” Helen said, her eyes twinkling. “I flew a thousand miles to get here. I think I deserve to be on that list too.”
Jameson laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine. “You’re right, you’re right. How are myfourfavorite women in the world?” he asked, adding his grandma and his sister to the list.
“Better,” Helen said with a satisfied nod.
Olivia squirmed in my arms, reaching for her basket again. “Daddy, watch! I can throw the flowers!”
Before either of us could stop her, she grabbed another handful of petals and flung them into the air. They rained down over all of us, catching in Jameson’s hair and settling on the shoulders of my bridesmaid dress.
“I threw the flowers. Now you have to kiss her, Daddy!” Olivia announced, bouncing in my arms.
Jameson and I both laughed. I put her down, and then we were on our knees together, picking up scattered rose petals.
“You have to wait and throw them as you walk down the aisle,” I explained, dropping petals back into the basket. “AndthenAunt Cindy will smooch her husband.”
“Flowers,” Olivia repeated seriously, like she was committing this to memory. “And then they smooch.”
“Exactly.”
Then she looked up at us with confusion on her face. “But when do you kiss Daddy?”
Jameson laughed, “She kisses me all the time, honey. But not during Cindy’s wedding. Okay?”
Helen clapped her hands together. “Olivia, sweetheart, come with Grandma Helen. Let’s go find your spot. And Cindy, we still need to go find Becky to ask her if the cake arrived yet.”
Olivia took Helen’s outstretched hand, smooching little air kisses into the air and chattering about flowers as they headed for the door. Cindy followed, pausing to squeeze my arm on her way out.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For bringing him back to us.”
I knew what she meant. The rift between their dad and their grandmother, Helen, had been longstanding until I came along and forced a reconciliation.
I watched her go, a beautiful bride on her wedding day.
Then she was gone, and I started to follow, but Jameson caught my wrist.
