Page 41 of She Autumn Be Mine

When the rehearsal was over. Jake took me aside and checked the time on his phone. “Just wait,” he said.

“For what?” Then I saw the flash of the words on his phone screen—Montana State Prison. He answered, “Yes, we’ll accept the charges.”

He handed the phone to me. My brother couldn’t be here, and Jake had quietly arranged for the phone call? I shed a tear. He kissed my forehead and gave me some privacy. This was so Jake. Thinking of everything. Of me.

“Autumn, are you sure you want to do this?” Trig asked.

Oh yes. Definitely.

After the call, I glanced around at Jake and his family and friends and they all had a way of making me believe that everything might actually turn out alright. Or maybe there was some kind of magic in this glass of strawberry wine someone had handed me, made from the berries grown right there on the ranch.

Nearby, Poppy Wylde had commandeered my son entirely. She set up camp on a quilt with Stetson and a small patch of mini-pumpkins of his own and some other toys and books where I could see them. Every time I so much as angled my body toward the quilt, Poppy pointed at me and mouthed no, which I suspected was Ivy’s directive so I’d focus on the adults tonight.

I could not mistake the looks Nanette sent Cash somewhere around the dessert table. I passed by at one point and heard her grilling him about his motorcycle he’d rebuilt. She twirled a lock of hair, and laughed at his jokes in the register she saved for men she liked.

On this beautiful fall evening, standing hip to hip with my almost-husband, listening to his mom and sister tell stories about his younger years, I finally relaxed into it. Ivy stopped by with a tray of glass mason jars. She put one into each person's hands.

“What is this concoction?” Jake eyed the cinnamon-sugar rim.

“Your signature couple cocktail.”

I read the little handwritten tag tied to the jar. “‘Jake and Autumn’s Pumpkin Patch Kiss. Pumpkin, whiskey, cream, and no way out.’”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jake tapped his against mine and added a kiss to my cheek. “To no way out.”

It was, annoyingly, delicious.

We made the rounds like that, his hand warm at the small of my back. People hugged me and cried on me and welcomed me, and Jake kissed my cheek when the crowd demanded a kiss—three times, his beard scratchy-soft against my skin.

Nanette materialized at my elbow during a lull, licking cinnamon sugar off her rim. “Okay, question.” She kept her voice down. “I’ve been watching all night. Cheek, cheek, cheek. Why is the man kissing you like you’re his grandmother?”

“We’re taking it slow. At my request.”

“Well, there’s slow, honey—” she gestured at the fire in the ring, at the night around us, at the man on the other side of me, “—and then there’s you two. Entire mountain ranges formed over a bajillion years and that was faster than this relationship. You’re marrying him tomorrow.”

“I’m aware of the schedule.”

“If you say so.”

“And what’s going on with you and Cash?”

“Nothing,” she innocently skulked off.

The evening ended, with Jake saying thanks to everyone on our behalf in a toast. Then he strolled me over to Ash’s old cabin. Stetson had long-fallen asleep on his shoulder. Nanette and Cash trailed twenty or so tactful feet behind us, talking about the stars above on this clear night.

We got the baby down in the crib Ash and Colt had carried in that week. Nanette said goodnight to Cash and came inside.

Jake stood on the porch before he left and held my hands. “I’d say that went really well.” He shifted his weight. “You know, there’s a moment tomorrow, in front of everybody, where the sheriff’s going to say the thing, and then I’m going to kiss you.”

I chuckled breathlessly. “So I’ve heard.”

“We could practice right now, if you want.” His voice dropped into a register that weakened my knees.

Oh, I wanted to. Standing there with his eyes on my mouth, I wanted so badly my hands curled at my sides, itching to grab his shirt and bring him to me.

“Jake.” I made myself say it. “I really want to wait.”

He nodded with a long sigh, listening.