Exhilarating.There’s so much more.
Besides the thrills and the laughter and the joy that boiled whenever they were together—Alice was …INSPIRING! He threw himself onto the couch, forgetting that the cushions were on the floor, and sighed.There. I’ve done it.
Out of all the plays Russ had written over the years, the short stories, and one laughable screenplay, he’d never been as proud of his work as he was of that one word. Because capturing a person’s essence and character in nine letters was nothing short of genius.
“Russ?!” called his soon-to-be brother-in-law, Dean Westbrook. “Are you in here?”
“In the back,” Russ called, even as he continued to stare at the paper and smile like a complete doofus.
Dean appeared wearing a charcoal tux and crisp white shirt; his bow tie dangled around his neck. Upon finding Russ lounging on the sofa without cushions, his thick eyebrows lurched to the ceiling. “Are you kidding me right now?” He jumped down the last step and grabbed Russ by the arm. “You’re not even dressed.”
Russ clutched the paper in his hand, afraid he’d drop it. “I did it, Dean. I finally found the perfect word to describe Alice.” He thrust the paper at Dean as he hustled him down the hallway like a bouncer at one of those clubs his agent was always trying to get him to hang out at in New York.
Dean glanced at the paper, and his shoulders fell. He took Russ by both shoulders and gave him a shake. “Do you mean to tell me your wedding is in thirty-five minutes and not only have you not gotten dressed, you haven’t written yourvows?!” He snatched the paper from Dean’s hand. “You’re awriter, Russ.”
“I know! Do you know how hard it is to wrap a woman as complex and loving and beautiful and generous and intelligent as Alice inone word?”
Dean held the paper in Russ’s face. “If you show up to your wedding with one word, you’re going to get the worst review of your life.”
Russ grabbed the front of Dean’s jacket in his hands. His joy was transformed into horror at the idea of letting Alice down. If there was one person on this earth he wanted to cherish forever, it was her. “Alice always reads my work before it goes out. I couldn’t very well have her edit my vows for our wedding.” He shook Dean. “What am I going to do?”
Dean spun Russ around and shoved him into the bedroom. “Focus—for five minutes, please. You get dressed; I’ll work on your speech.”
Russ ripped off his shirt and tripped trying to kick out of his pajama bottoms. He’d changed into comfy clothes, hoping to release his stress. “Thanks, Dean.”
“What’s a best man for?” Dean slammed the door shut and then yelled through it. “You’d better not be late for my sister, man!”
Russ booked it to the bathroom, where he smoothed down his beard with a salve Alice had found online. She liked a woodsy smell. He grinned. Her lemon-scented lotion was enough to do him in. She’d found a lemon-flavored lip gloss that she promised to wear to the ceremony. He could hardly wait.
Dean pounded on the door. “Are you coming, princess? We have ten minutes to get you to the church.”
Russ scrubbed the toothbrush around, rinsed, and spit. “It’s not a church.”
“It’s used to be—let’s go.”
Russ threw on his clothes, figuring he could button and zip in the car. He snagged the bag of shoes and the ring box off the dresser and followed Dean into the snow. They didn’t talk much on the ride to the Harvest Ranch Library.
Considering the amount of time Alice spent at the library between work and curling up with a book, her decision to be married in the church converted to a library hadn’t surprised Russ. Since they were both on the library board, getting approval for the ceremony after regular hours on a Saturday night wasn’t all that difficult.
The guest list was decidedly small. His parents, who were staying at the Westbrook’s B&B, had flown in two days ago. Mom burst into happy tears the moment she’d laid eyes on Alice. Her adoration of her future daughter-in-law only deepened through the rehearsal dinner. Dad was his usual aloof self. Not for the first time, Russ wondered how his parents had managed to stay together all these years when they hardly spoke to one another. Watching Mom steal the croutons off Dad’s salad and Dad tipping her cup over to refuse spirits on her behalf, he realized they were comfortable and that, in and of itself, was a sweet love.
Russ checked the clock on the dash. “Can you go faster?”
“Not if you want to make it in one piece.” Dean skidded on ice, corrected, and managed to make the turn off Main Street without killing them both.
“I’d prefer to, thanks.”
The library appeared before them, the windows warm with yellow light and the old stone finish stately and respectable. Russ patted his pockets, panicking. “My paper.”
“For the love …” Dean dug it out of his inside jacket pocket. “I added a few words.”
“Thanks!” Russ flew out of the car and through the glass doors.
The moment the heat hit his face, he relaxed. He’d made it. Glancing up theTitanic-like staircase, he rubbed his hands together. Alice was in the meeting room at the top, doing who knew what to get ready for their wedding. Instead of walking down the aisle, she would walk down the stairs and join him in front of the pastor.
Four rows of white folding chairs lined up facing the staircase. Grandma Westbrook was there in the second row, smiling broadly. Alice’s mom and dad were there too, on the front row. Alice had opted to walk down the stairs on her own rather than have her dad escort her. Russ didn’t argue her decision. Her father had hardly been there for Alice and hadn’t earned the right to walk her down the aisle, as far as he was concerned. Of course, Russ couldn’t say that out loud. You couldn’t insult the father of the woman you were about to marry.
He grabbed Dean’s arm, the room spinning in a strange swirl of books, shelves, and flowers and garlands and filmy fabric draped everywhere. “I’m getting married.”
