Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“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.
Gram, wherever you are, I hope you’re watching.
I hope you can see me smiling at the man of my dreams.
Later, when the sunny reception finally ends long after nightfall, he loads me in his SUV and drives me down the street to his—well, our—new home.
“I still can’t believe you gutted the house,” I whisper.
“You wanted a modern transitional farmhouse with all the conveniences, and you’re getting it. I had every contractor in a hundred miles beating down my door for this job. Everybody wins,” he says, twining our fingers together.
“I know, but you’re giving me a flipping castle.”
“And you love it.”
I giggle because he’s too right.
“It has more charm than any new build I’ve ever seen. But you’re sure you have no regrets?”
The way he side-eyes me says I’m being ridiculous in the most endearing way.
“We agreed. We both need a fresh start. Something that wasn’t completely yours or mine. It had to be ours. Besides, the inn books solid every night, and staying there would cost you a nightly rental income when you can rent out the best room in the house. Never mind the fact that we’d have no privacy—something I was adamant about.” He glances over and grins when he sees me blushing. “Go ahead and try to play it off. I’m just glad my queen adores her palace.”
He’s. Killing. Me.
I smile at him. “No denying it, but your queen loves it even more when you call her ‘my wife.’”
“Get used to that, my wife, because you’re mine now. Mine completely.” There’s an intensity in his tone that echoes through me. “You know it, don’t you, kitten?”
Heat thrums under my cheeks.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “But I wouldn’t turn down a reminder.”
Grinning, he parks the SUV in front of the door. We don’t even make it to the garage as he carries me inside and up the stairs to our master suite.
I lean up and kiss his chin. “This part so isn’t necessary.”
“Liar. You think I’d miss my chance to carry you over the threshold?” he growls.
“Technically, we passed the threshold.”
“Technically, sweetheart, there’s no chance I’m turning you loose before you’re down on the bed, stripped naked.”
I grin. “And then?”
“Then I fucking devour you.”
Sure enough, he carries me to our room, but he doesn’t place me on the bed like he promised.
Instead, he sets me on my feet and nods at the virtual assistant speaker on his nightstand.
“Calista, play 'All of Me.'” He puts his hands on my hips and draws me closer as the song starts. “Dance with me, Mrs. Cromwell?”