I scooped the skirt up with both hands, bunched it against my thighs, and carefully climbed into the passenger seat. Layers of tulle puffed everywhere. Elodie did a last-minute tuck-and-fluff so I wasn’t sitting entirely on a small mountain of dress.
“Text me if you need anything,” she said, stepping back. There was something in her eyes I couldn’t name. Hope, maybe. Or just the kind of faith that made you build a whole business on other people’s vows.
I nodded, throat tight. “We’re going to make the farm look incredible. I promise.”
Cal shifted into gear and eased us forward, tires crunching over the packed snow. The wind found every gap in the blanket, sneaking under lace and tulle, raising goose bumps along my arms. I wrapped one hand around the roll bar, the other still clutching the front of the wool, and I tried to let the focus settle over me.
We’d start with wide shots at the oak—long lines of branches overhead, my skirt spread over the snow, a bouquet of winter greens in my hands. Then closer—hands on bark, veil catching peeks of golden light. I ran through the sequence in my head like a checklist.
The anticipation made my stomach lurch, like I’d gone over a too-fast hill in a car.
Today was about work. About proving—to myself, to everyone—that I could build something beautiful out of all the poor decisions I’d made in my life.
The inn fell away behind us. Dunes rolled out on one side, water crashing below, snow lying in uneven drifts where thewind had pushed it. The old oak rose at the far edge of the property, a dark silhouette against the pale-pink sky, its bare branches reaching wide like arms waiting for an embrace.
Cal eased off the gas as we crested the little rise in the terrain leading up to it.
“Okay,” he said, voice a little different. “Don’t freak out.”
My pulse stumbled. “What?”
He didn’t answer right away. The side-by-side rolled the last few feet, engine rumbling low.
I looked up.
The oak came into full view.
Bare branches were laced with fresh strands of twinkle lights, with snow packed into a rough aisle leading up to the trunk. My brain automatically cataloged the details: gorgeous soft lighting, a decent path, a slightly crooked lantern on the left that I’d fix before we shot.
Then my eyes found the man standing under the branches, and everything else went fuzzy.
