The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(115)

Judge Judie grabs my arm and wrangles me into place on the step just below her. “Open your eyes, boy.”

She turns my head toward the sidewalk and … OH. There are Lindy and Jo, at the end of the sidewalk, hand in hand. But they’ve both changed, and this is what finally clues me in to what’s happening here.

Lindy is wearing a white dress. A WEDDING dress. Shorter in the front, showing off her legs and cowboy boots, but with a long train in the back. It’s covered in crystal beading, and as they walk toward me, she shimmers in the glowing candlelight, a beautiful, ethereal dream.

I can’t speak. I can’t move. I don’t even breathe until they reach me.

I’m probably supposed to wait, but I can’t. When they’re at the bottom of the steps, I leap down, taking Lindy’s free hand.

“You are so beautiful,” I whisper. “Lindy, what is this?”

“It’s the wedding you wanted,” she says. “Technically, a vow renewal, but whatever. Who has time to worry about technicalities?”

“Not me.”

“I know you said you didn’t need a grand gesture, but I wanted to give one anyway.”

Oh, the irony. She’s got her own grand gesture coming her way at the end of this party, and I love that we’ve both been unknowingly grand gesturing the other. I didn’t need a ceremony, or a big thing. But I absolutely love that Lindy planned this for me.

Judge Judie clears her throat. “Can we get this show on the road? These candles aren’t going to last forever. Who gives this woman to be wed?”

Jo lifts her chin, and I get a glimpse of the strong, brilliant woman she will one day become. “I give my mama to marry my daddy.”

At her words, both Lindy and I suck in a breath. Jo gives us a mischievous grin. “I didn’t check with you about the new names,” she whispers, “but I’ve learned it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

She definitely learned that from me, and Lindy will give me an earful later. For now, we’re both still caught on her words.

“It’s official now,” Jo continues. “But even without a piece of paper declaring it, I want to call you what you are—my mom and dad.”

We’re probably supposed to wait for the end to hug and kiss and cry like babies but who cares? If you can’t throw things off a little at your second wedding, when can you?

We finally get to the actual ceremony, and I fumble my way through impromptu vows, say I do to my already bride, and everyone blows out the candle as we kiss. Which is a good thing because this is NOT a chaste courthouse kiss.

Lights explode above us as someone sets off fireworks. I catch sight of James and Chase up on a nearby rooftop, lighting the fuses.

My heart swells with joy and pride and a sense of rightness as I look around this square. It’s Tank’s vision starting to come to life, only bigger, grander, better. It’s my dream too, I think, looking at Lindy, then Jo. My dream and then one bigger than I ever could have imagined.

And until an apologetic Chevy shows up with the sheriff to shut the whole thing down due to an ordinance from city council about public gatherings and fireworks in the town proper, I’d say it’s the best wedding in the world.





Winnie





“Don’t fret. They’re going to love it,” I say, smoothing the wrinkle of worry from Val’s forehead with my fingertip. We’re sitting in Mari’s at the counter after my dumb brother shut down the party. I mean, fine—it’s not his fault. It’s probably Billy Waters using city council as his own personal playpen again, but whatever. I can still blame my brother some.

“But if we’d had more time to plan—”

“You would have found more things to add to the itinerary, and it still would be perfect. Stop worrying.”

While Lindy was secretly planning tonight’s wedding as a surprise for Pat, he’s had our help planning a secret European honeymoon. The two of them are disgustingly, adorably in love. Val and I helped with tonight as well as the travel plans, and it was hard as heck not to slip up and tell one person what we were doing for the other. We somehow managed that and the caretaking schedule for Jo while they’re gone.

Val sighs and takes a bite of pumpkin pecan pie. “Fine. Ooh, this is good, Big Mo.”

“Thank you. I think it’s the bourbon,” he says, passing by with a wink and a grin.

“There’s bourbon in there?” I perk up. Because if I weren’t primarily into app development, I’d want to be a mixologist. “I want a slice!”

“Coming right up,” Big Mo says, ducking—literally, he has to duck—into the back.

“So,” Val says, wiping the corner of her mouth. She’s finished her pie and swiped up every last crumb with her fingertip. “Dale was a no-show again?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe he’s really in the CIA. So when he says he has an accounting emergency, what he really means is he’s off catching an assassin or pulling out someone’s fingernails in an interrogation.”

Big Mo chooses that moment to set the pie down in front of me, now that I’m imagining straight-arrow Dale yanking out someone’s fingernail. Gross. And impossible. He’d more likely pull out a manicure kit and push back their cuticles.