One Bossy Offer (138)

You never will.

Today, you’ve fulfilled my dying wish.

I always swore I’d leave you in good hands, and here you are.

So let Miles take care of you and my fur babies, Jenn. You’ll be safe and happy and entertained with him. I’d bet my entire soul on it.

Your love is the beating heart of Bee Harbor now, and it’ll forever keep you going since this old heart couldn’t.

All my love,

Gram



Holy heartbreak and a half.

Flaming tears roll down my cheeks by the time I finish. I’m shaking so much as Mom softly clasps my shoulders.

“Easy, sweetheart. You’ll mess up your makeup.” Mom pulls a cotton square from the dresser, dabs my face, and retouches everything.

“C-can you believe it?” I stammer.

“Actually, I can.” She wipes a tear from her own cheek. “That was exactly the sort of harebrained scheme Mama loved to pull. Aren’t you glad it worked?”

I nod vigorously.

God, yes.

When I thought Gram just left me money and a beautiful old inn that’s slowly coming back to life, I thought it was her greatest inheritance.

Now, I know she delivered my entire future.

I inherited the best husband in the entire freaking world. I just have to marry him first.

If I had any lingering wedding day doubts, they’re gone in a puff of teary-eyed feels.

Reading that letter made it clear and banished my worries.

This is the right move.

All the things I don’t know about Miles, all we’re meant to be, we’ll find out. Together.

How could it be any different? The man was handpicked by Gram to be my own personal guardian angel.

I’m still smiling as Mom finishes my makeup fix until another knock at the door interrupts us.

“Now what?” I stare at the door.

“No idea. This has already been more eventful than my wedding day, and my parents brought every able-bodied horse on the island! Let me find out.”

Mom answers the door again.

This time, it’s Dad. He shaved off his mustache for today and he looks so adorably clean I laugh.

“The preacher man’s here and the groom is in place. Everybody’s ready to cry and eat their weight in appetizers. We’re just waiting on the prettiest bride Pinnacle Pointe will ever have,” he says with a smile just for me. “You ready, Jenn?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Every footstep feels like I’m airborne as I walk over and take his hand.

Here we go.

Dad helps me down the stairs, and we go out the back door to the garden.

Coffee and Cream bound up from their napping spot by the door like my personal guardians, protective as always.

“Dear, you really should have let us kennel those dogs. Today of all days.”

“They’re family. I’m sure they’ll behave,” I say with a smile as Dad leashes them up for good measure.

Coffee lets out a low woof of agreement, moving in next to me.

Just around the corner, my whole future comes into view.

We stop and stare in awe.

A couple local girls glide down the path in front of me, throwing rose petals of every color.

With smiles flying everywhere, Dad strolls forward, guiding me down the long, winding natural aisle until we’re at the new gazebo by the cliff where Miles waits.

There’s an altar set up inside with Royal Cromwell’s painting of this garden—basically a reflection of our surroundings—hanging in the backdrop.

My dad places my hand in Miles’ hand. “Take care of her for me.”

“You have my word.” He smiles at me and looks at my dad.

Then it’s all just a glorious blur.

Lots of words about love and fate and divine approval.

Lots of promises we make forever.

Lots and lots of smiles from our little audience.

But there’s none bigger than Royal Cromwell’s, sitting by his nurse in his wheelchair. It’s just this subtle thing you might miss if you don’t notice when it happens.

The old man locks eyes with me and smiles. I swear there’s a flicker of recognition in his pale-blue eyes, an understanding that says, be good to my boy. Love him like my wife loved me.

I will, Royal.

God, will I ever.

And when the preacher says, “You may now kiss the bride,” Miles surprises me again on a day with so many.

He doesn’t lift my veil.

Instead, he brings my hand to his mouth, taking his time in this sweet, slow kiss.

He kisses my ring first before turning my hand over to kiss my palm.

“I love you, Jennifer Cromwell.”

It’s a miracle I don’t go to snotty, crying chaos right there.

Several people throw “awwws” around, and I’m not sure if it’s Mom or Pippa who yells it the loudest.

I’m too preoccupied by the intensity of my husband’s gaze as he pulls my hand down, still holding it in his.

As he lifts my veil, places his hands possessively on my waist, holds me so close, and kisses me with the weight of his whole being.

My toes scrunch.

For a second I’m so lost in Miles that I forget we’re really married now.

This is where I want to be.

This is where I want to live forever as I smile at him and say one last secret thanks.