Page 113 of All Tied Down

Standing with her in my arms, I grin as she yelps before sighing as she kisses me with a reverence that slides the final piece of my soul back into place. Because there’s nothing at stake tonight.

No panicking when the sun comes up.

No strategy required to keep the narrative going.

Just me and the beautiful woman in my arms for the rest of our lives.

45

EMERSON

SIX MONTHS LATER

“Your mom would have loved this,” my father says as he smooths the lapels of his dark gray suit jacket, his voice strained with emotion as he finally meets my gaze.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to do this the first time,” I tell him, knowing I won’t be able to keep my composure if we start talking about Mom. Because she should be here, and while Garrett’s parents are fine, I don’t think we’ll ever be close, making the ache in my heart widen at never getting to have that kind of connection.

“Well…” He smiles, his hair much grayer at his temples with streaks of silver running through the previously all black strands. He’s handsome. Distinguished. And even though Mom isn’t here, I know I won’t take for granted the time I have with him. “I think we’re all a little disappointed we missed Elvis.”

I kind of love that Garrett and I will always have Vegas. We’d been so carefree.

Fun.

Sexy.

It’d been a game—a harmless little wager that transformed into something beautifully unexpected. It made me see so much more of the life I should be living. Garrett may have found strength in me, but I found solace in him—something I’ve never truly had before.

And maybe I never quite believed that I could be loved the way that Garrett loves me—that my job and personality would prevent me from finding the one.

But it didn’t.

Garrett North, lead singer of Descending North, rock star god and my absolute favorite person on the planet, saw me in Vegas and thought mine.

And he never let go.

Not even that day in my office.

Because that song he wrote me is imprinted on my soul—the lyrics speaking to me in a way I never fully understood until I met the man whose last name I still won’t be taking.

Maybe.

Probably.

“It was definitely a festive occasion.” I grin, admiring the formfitting white lace dress that I had custom-made by Isla’s friend in Clementine Creek. It’s gorgeous in a way that I’ve never felt before.

Maybe because I’ve never been a bride.

The thought has my red lips widening into a beaming smile that my father notices, his eyes welling with tears.

“You’re stunning.”

“I’m happy.”

“You deserve all of it and more.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“Emerson,” Theo says, a clipboard in his hand and a serious expression on his face. Garrett and I told him we didn’t need a wedding planner but he scoffed—and insisted—plus he needed a distraction.