May stood beside Ophelia and Daisy in the tiny side room while Amka faced the mirror. Amka might be the most beautiful bride to ever don a white dress. The heavy satin shimmered softly in the warm light, falling in a clean, modest line from her fitted bodice to the floor. The gown was old-fashioned in the best way, with long lace sleeves that buttoned at the wrists and a high neckline edged in delicate pearl beading. The skirt flared gently at her hips before settling into a graceful sweep behind her.
Her black hair had been brushed until it shone like polished obsidian, then gathered low at the nape of her neck in a smooth chignon. A simple fingertip veil flowed from a comb tucked just above it, the sheer fabric beautiful and soft.
Daisy dabbed at her teary eyes. “You don’t even look real,” she whispered.
Ophelia adjusted the tiny row of buttons along Amka’s spine. “It fits like it was made for you.”
“It does,” May said softly.
Amka drew in a slow breath and met May’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s really happening.”
May stepped forward and smoothed the front of the skirt, her throat tight. “Yeah, it is.”
The bridesmaid dresses were fabulous, thanks to newcomer Lottie, the most amazing seamstress in the world. Lottie had found the perfect fabric and battled it into submission over the last two days, stitching until her fingers were sore and every seam lay flat and clean.
Their gowns were a deep river-blue silk that caught the light like moving water. The bodices fit close without squeezing, and the skirts fell in a straight, graceful line to the floor. There was no lace and no extra embellishment, just strong lines and rich color. The blue brought warmth to Ophelia’s hair and made Daisy’s eyes look even greener.
Around each of their wrists rested the same bracelet Amka had given them that morning. The stones were a rich Arctic blue, hand-cut and polished smooth, set into heavy silver shaped in subtle wave patterns. Amka had told them the stones symbolized water and endurance, the current that carried her people for generations and the strength it took to survive it. Water meant life in her culture. It meant connection and coming home.
May turned her wrist and felt the cool weight of the stone against her pulse. The bracelet was solid and steady, not delicate. It suited her. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and met her reflection steadily. The woman staring back looked stronger than she had a year ago, steadier, and very much where she was meant to be.
The music started, and she stilled. Ace was out there. In a tuxedo.
She walked out into the sanctuary with her friends.
The church was full. Not politely full. Packed. Fishermen in clean shirts sat beside women in floral dresses. A couple of tourists slipped in and looked delighted and confused, including the Thompsons, all wearing new flannels. They were flying out the next day but had already rented one of the homes for the same time next year.
Christian stood at the front with his brothers.
And there he was. Ace in a tux. May’s knees actually wobbled. He wore it like he’d been born in one, not like a man who preferred boots and worn denim. The black jacket cut clean across his shoulders, the white shirt sharp against his skin, and his bow tie perfectly tied. His hair was combed back but not tamed.
When his gaze landed on her, his expression changed and his eyes warmed. A lot. His gaze moved from her face down the length of her dress and back up again, slow and appreciative.
Heat settled low and steady in her stomach. She continued her walk down the aisle and then took her place opposite him as Amka walked down to “Here Comes the Bride.”
“You look good,” he mouthed.
“So do you,” she mouthed back.
“I know.” His lips curved.
She almost laughed.
The ceremony was short and real. Christian’s voice shook when he said Amka’s name. Amka steadied him by gripping his hand. When they kissed, the entire church exhaled at once and then applauded like they were at a hockey game.
Outside, Main Street had transformed.
Long tables stretched from one end of town to the other, white cloths pinned down against the breeze. Lanterns hung from light posts. Kids ran barefoot between chairs. Gus had commandeered two grills and hired a bunch of the teenagers to serve.
It was absolutely perfect.
May slipped off her heels within ten minutes.
Ace appeared at her elbow as she reached for a glass of champagne.
“You gonna behave?” she asked.
He looked down at her bare feet. “No promises.”
