The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(60)

My imaginary wedding was always grand. No surprise there, right? A ceremony in a picturesque location with lovely weather—because in your dreams, the weather is always gentle sun and seventy-five degrees—or in some beautiful church chapel with wood accents, high ceilings, massive flower arrangements.

The reception to follow would be at night, with music and dancing and wine—but not so much that we have sloppy drunks ruining the mood—and I would whisper in my bride’s ear all the ways I planned to demonstrate my love as soon as we were alone.

The only thing my actual wedding has in common with my imagined one is the bride. Before I met Lindy, I didn’t have an ideal woman in mind. I knew I wanted the woman walking down the aisle to be someone I could commit to for life and mean it, just like my dad did with my mom. After I met Lindy, it was always her I saw. Always.

So, even though she isn’t in a white dress (it’s a simple floral with a belt and boots) and she won’t be walking down the aisle, I’m a happy man.

Today marks the start of my uphill battle to win over the woman about to become my wife.

Have I mentioned how much I love a good challenge?

And a challenge it will be. After shocking me by accepting my two-bit proposal, Lindy all but avoided me for the seventy-two-hour waiting period. She also flat-out shut down all my ideas to make today special. Lindy insisted that the ceremony should be as quick as possible. No rings. No vows. Just showing up and signing the certificate in front of the judge with our witnesses. I’m lucky she agreed to a reception, and I think her friends pressured her into it. I really like her friends.

At least Jo’s excited. Sitting in the front row next to Mari and Val, Jo is beaming like it’s Christmas and her birthday all wrapped up into one. The little wave she gives me warms my heart and sparks hope to life.

I will wear Lindy down. I’ll prove to her that I am in this for the long haul. This may look on the outside like another Pat Decision, as Collin would say, but it’s more. And that’s exactly what I told my family when I told them over a group video call. There were protests and arguments and a whole lot of name-calling, but Tank finally shut it down when he told them about Mom’s ring.

“I’ve already talked to Pat about this,” Tank said in the voice we all know means arguing is futile. “He’s serious about this, even if it’s quick, and your mother and I agreed this is how we wanted to show our support.”

I did not tell any of them that Lindy’s just doing this for Jo. Only Thayden knows the details, and I invoked client confidentiality. Which meant he also charged me for the hour-long phone call where we discussed his marriage to Delilah, but whatever.

Their relationship started out because Thayden needed to fulfill his father’s inheritance clause, and Delilah needed money. According to him, he wore her down and by their wedding, it was all real. Now, they’re one of the most disgustingly in love couples I’ve seen—at last glance, kissing in the third row of the courtroom—so I’m crossing my fingers here.

“Give me just another minute,” Judge Judie tells Lindy. There’s some lawyer with an apparently urgent matter. He’s been gesticulating wildly behind the bench for several minutes. Meanwhile the courtroom keeps getting louder. Half of Sheet Cake is here, plus my big family and a lot of friends.

“Take your time,” Lindy says, all while looking as though she’s about to bolt.

Just in case, I grab her hand. It’s a little clammy. Bringing it up to my lips, I press a kiss to her knuckles. She blinks at me with those wide green eyes, and I can see her trying to retreat past the wall she’s built.

Not on my watch, darlin’. Not on my watch.

I pull Mama’s ring out of my pocket. “I’m supposed to give this to you later, but I feel like now’s a good time.”

Lindy’s lips part as she stares down at the simple gold band and the single, albeit large, square diamond. She touches it with a single finger, the way you might poke a critter you find, unsure if it’s alive or dead.

“It won’t bite.”

She glares at me. “Pat—I didn’t think we were doing all this.”

“This was my mom’s ring,” I tell her.

“Oh,” she breathes.

I can feel her starting to tense, starting to pull back. Any second now, she’ll say it’s too much or I just can’t or it wouldn’t be right. And I just won’t have it. Without giving her time to form an argument, I turn over the hand I’m holding and slide the ring in place, praying it fits.

It does. Like it was made for Lindy.

“It’s beautiful,” Lindy says. “Thank you.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, I am missing my mom. I always do. Missing her is a constant ache, like the faint stiffness in my bad ankle. But there are times even now when her absence is a runaway train, hurtling over my tracks. I wish she were here. I hate how many things she’s missing. I know she’d want to be here. And this ring makes it so in a tiny way, she is here.

I feel like I’m about to burst with happiness and simultaneously melt into a puddle of tears.

Lindy looks alarmed. “Are you okay?”

I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my suit. “Just thinking about my mom.”

Her expression softens, and I almost fall down dead when Lindy takes my hand and squeezes. “I miss mine too,” she confesses. “I couldn’t invite her today because the doctors thought she might get upset and confused.”