More importantly, I’ve come to grips with my feelings. I can look Noah in the eye and tell him I love him. I know exactly what my future holds, and I’m eager for every minute of it.

Well, the future in a general sense, anyway. Right now, I don’t know anything, because Camryn is covering my closed eyes with her hands as she guides me through the house. She put on my makeup and helped me zip up my dress—a gorgeous pale pink princess-cut gown, boat neck with lacy cap sleeves—but she refused to breathe a single word about Noah’s plans. I haven’t even seen what she’s wearing yet.

“Almost there,” she says.

“I can tell.”

I’m pretty sure where we are. The floor beneath my high heels has changed from the hardwood of the hallway into plush carpet, and I hear the buzzing murmur of our many guests talking, muffled by thick glass. We must be in the den, near the French doors that lead out onto the patio and rear garden.

“Don’t open your eyes yet.” Camryn’s hands leave my face. A door handle clicks and the noise from the backyard abruptly becomes louder. “Okay, open them!”

The entire garden, already lovely in the golden light of late afternoon, is festooned with paper lanterns and garlands of fluffy peonies in every color of the rainbow. Each table holds its own small bouquet of peonies as a centerpiece. A bar and a long buffet table piled with what looks like tapas occupy the far right corner of the garden. On the opposite side, the same band we booked for Tate & Cane’s big beach party provides a mellow instrumental backdrop.

And through the middle of the lawn, a snow-white runner marks the path to a tall, arched floral bower. Beneath it is an altar where we’ll recite our renewed vows—and where Noah already stands, devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, his glowing smile directed at me like I’m the only woman in the world.

My sister, Rachel, and a gaggle of my other female relatives encircle the patio. While I stand gawking at everything, they cheer at my approach, turning heads throughout the larger crowd and sparking off a round of applause. All the women are wearing identical tea-length tulle gowns in an airy shade of seafoam green, as if they were bridesmaids. And when I turn around in astonishment, I see that Camryn is dressed the same way too.

“You like it?” She laughs, pulling me into a hug. “Noah picked my brains about your perfect wedding. He must have sent me a million e-mails confirming everything.”

Then the band starts playing the opening bars of the wedding march. The bridesmaids scatter to take their places along the aisle, and Camryn shoos me off, insisting, “Go on, you’ve got a husband to smooch!”

Blinking back tears of joy, I walk through my bridesmaids toward Noah. The man who so quickly became my friend, my groom, and finally my lover. Not the order that most people do romance in . . . but I wouldn’t have things any other way, because this is our story.

As I reach the altar to stand at Noah’s side, I spot Dad in his wheelchair at the very front of the audience, with an attending health aide sitting next to him. Of course I know that he’s not well, but he’s beaming like this is the best day of his life.

“You look stunning,” Noah whispers to me, taking my hand and stroking the back of it. His eyes are shining like I’ve never seen.

The depth of emotion reflected back at me takes my breath away. I don’t think his expression in this moment is something I’ll ever forget for as long as I live. I feel like his entire world, his most important treasure, his everything. And I love it.

Noah turns to address our audience directly. “Three months ago, Olivia became my wife. But as many of you may know, our union was not a typical one. We married in stressful times; our families’ company was facing the end of an era. And our relationship itself has had its share of rough spots. But we overcame every obstacle, and our love bloomed despite the circumstances.”

Taking my hand, he turns to face me, still speaking clearly enough to let our guests hear. “You’ve made me a better man, Olivia. I believe in this marriage more than ever. I am so grateful that I get to spend the rest of my life at your side, and I eagerly await whatever that life may bring us.”

My breath catches in my throat, but he’s not done yet.

“On our wedding day, I pledged my commitment to you. I promised to honor, cherish, and comfort you, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse. Now I want to add true love to that list. I am honored to stand here today, in front of these witnesses”—with his free hand, Noah makes a sweeping gesture that encompasses our entire audience—“not only to reaffirm all my wedding promises, but to announce that I love you. I always have and I always will, for as long as we both shall live.”

Noah suddenly drops to one knee. “Will you take me as your husband again, Olivia?”

Blinking back tears, I take his hand and encourage him to his feet. I lift up on my toes and press a kiss to his lips.

“I do,” I whisper against his mouth.

The crowd surrounding us bursts into a chorus of whoops, whistles, and applause. I glimpse Dad and several of the bridesmaids dabbing at their eyes.

Just as the sun touches the horizon, the paper lanterns blink to life, one by one, transforming the garden into an enchanting dance floor. The band eases down into a languid, soulful tune and the singer starts crooning “At Last” by Etta James.

Noah stands up, still holding my hand. “May I have this dance, Mrs. Tate?”

Our first wedding dance . . . it might not be our first dance as a married couple, but it means the same thing.