Chloe’s chin was tucked low, her arm looped through her dad’s and she clutched a bouquet of orchids in her free hand. Her hair was piled on top of her head and where I’d normally be plotting how I’d get it down and get my fingers in it while I threw her down onto any available flat surface, all I could think about was how I wanted to leave it up. I could see every inch of her face, and she looked so beautiful. I wanted to freeze this moment, stretch it out, and make it last forever.

It was clear that Chloe, even down to the last moment, was working something out. Her eyes were closed, her face arranged in a look of concentration as she sifted through her thoughts. Just as clear was the moment she figured it all out. Lifting her head, her eyes moved up the aisle to me, and it was as if time stopped and everything else fell away. I could feel myself smile, then see it reflected in the way her entire face seemed to light up, and I did the only thing I could think.

I whispered the words, “Come here.”

Chapter Seven

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It’s only three hundred and fifty people looking at me.

It’s only a river of mud on the aisle.

It’s only a tire print across my maid of honor’s pregnant belly.

It’s only one ceremony, it’s only getting through one day. It’s only the love of your life at the end of that aisle.

My father tucked my arm into the crook of his, and wrapped his fingers over mine. “Ready, sweetheart?”

I swallowed, nodding, and said, “No.”

“You have second thoughts over marrying this Benson character?”

I looked up at him and laughed at the teasing in his eyes. “No, I don’t have any second thoughts over Benson. It’s just . . . the way the last two days have gone, I’m worried there will be an earthquake when I walk down the aisle, or a tsunami, or—”

“Well, maybe there will be an earthquake, or maybe there will be a tsunami. But you can’t control the elements any more than you can control who you love. So are we going to do this wedding business or go get a drink in a bunker?”

I squeezed his hand and took a step forward, moving from the solid concrete of the patio to the soft, sodden mess of the lawn. My foot sank into the grass, and I pulled it up with a loud squelching sound. Beside me, my father nearly lost his balance in the mud.

“Pretend you’re a feather,” Dad whispered, and we both broke into laughter. “Lighter than air.”

But then we turned the slight corner and I saw it.

The guests.

The wedding party.

The man who was going to be my husband in only a matter of minutes.

His eyes met mine and the biggest smile I’d ever seen stretched across his face. For several long seconds, I couldn’t walk. I could barely breathe. The only thing I could do was stare at Bennett standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me. He wore a perfectly tailored tux, and a perfectly devastating smile. He looked just like I felt: elated, overwhelmed, on the verge of falling over.

I saw his mouth say the words Come here.

And suddenly I couldn’t get to him fast enough. I pulled my father forward, ignoring his quiet chuckle at my haste, ignoring the wet suction of the mud as it slipped into my shoe, ignoring the fact that I was moving faster than we’d rehearsed and the song wouldn’t get to the right point by the time I reached the altar. I didn’t care. I wanted to get to Bennett, put my hands in his, rush through the vows, and get to the “I do” as soon as humanly possible.

I bent, pulling my muddy sandals from my feet. Tossing them to the side, I ignored the loud splat they made in a puddle and hitched my dress above my ankles. I smiled when the crowd laughed and broke into applause, and I pulled my dad faster down the aisle, practically running. He stopped me up short halfway there, at the border of where the grass met the sand.

“This is the perfect metaphor,” Dad said quietly, kissing my nose. “I got you halfway there, sweetheart; you do the rest.” He kissed my cheek and then released me to run full bore the rest of the way down the petal-strewn sand and hurl myself into Bennett’s waiting arms.

Cameras clicked all around us, and the guests were yelling their approval as Bennett swung me in a small, slow circle, my face in his neck and his mouth open and pressed to my shoulder.

I could imagine how we looked: not even married yet, clutching each other as if our lives depended on it, my feet exposed as Bennett spun me, the bottoms dark with mud and stark against the perfect white of my gown.

Carefully, carefully he put me down and beamed down at me. “Hey.”