Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
A lump popped into my throat. “No fair, Dad. Do not make me ruin this moment with ugly tears.”
“Sorry.” He held out his arm, and I slipped my hand through it. “I couldn’t be happier for you, honey. It doesn’t surprise me at all that you’re first, because it’s Hutton. Maybe if it had been a stranger, I’d have questioned it . . . but you two have always been there for each other, and that’s what marriage is. The fireworks are cool, but it’s the friendship that matters.”
I kissed his cheek. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, sweetheart.” He glanced in the direction Millie had gone. The Clipper Cuts had launched into our song. “I think it’s our turn.”
“Let’s do it.”
We stepped out of the shade and into the warmth of the late afternoon sun. I felt surprisingly confident on my dad’s arm as we walked through the guests that had gathered for us. Maybe it was the sneakers. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was all the familiar faces—not only the MacAllister and French clans, but the entire extended Sawyer family as well. All Frannie’s sisters and their husbands, their children, John and Daphne, who’d been like grandparents to me. The Prancin’ Grannies were all in attendance, and even Mimi was there, sporting some freshly cut bangs, as short and choppy as if I’d done them myself.
Maybe it was Hutton, who watched me walk toward him as if he’d never imagined this kind of moment would belong to us. When we reached him, I saw some nervousness in his eyes, yes—but also love and pride and gratitude. My dad shook his hand and kissed my cheek, then took his seat next to Frannie, who blew me a kiss and dabbed beneath her eyes with a tissue.
I glanced at my sisters, all grinning widely, Winnie and Millie with eyes full of tears. I touched my heart and faced Hutton—my friend and my forever.
The love of my life.
That disobedient lock of hair had overpowered his styling product and sprung free onto his forehead. Self-conscious, he tried to brush it off, but I reached for his hand and smiled. “Leave it,” I whispered. “I love an imperfection.”
But standing there, in this place full of warm memories, next to my best friend in the world, in front of the people we loved most, looking forward to our happily ever after, I had to admit that even with imperfections, some moments in life were still perfect.
Both things could be true.
THE END