Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
At least I’d had veto power, and I said hell no right away to having it anywhere but Dallas.
She’d also started out by insisting on a long engagement, which I also shot down.
Once I’d convinced her that six weeks was the most I was willing to wait—all we had before the holidays would be right around the corner—she’d come around.
Literally. She’d shown up in Dallas over a month ago, and she’s been crashing here ever since.
Incredibly, it’s been nice having her around.
I’m sure Granny doesn’t agree, having to put up with Mother in her newly remodeled house, but as far as I know, they’re getting along with a truce for my sake.
If Mother hadn’t flat-out refused to ride the tandem bike, they might’ve rebooted their whole relationship.
Oh, well.
There’s a limit on miracles.
Quinn’s done a decent job of winning her over, at least.
Hardly surprising.
He’s just that wonderful. I’d be lying if I said that learning how wealthy Quinn’s investments have made him over the years wasn’t part of the reason she’s warming up to him.
But I can live with that. Some things, you just can’t change.
Quinn won’t either, and today, that’s what matters most.
As with everything else, nothing is too much when it comes to Mother.
My dress is absolutely gorgeous. A long flowing white gown made of silk and lace.
The little country church is overflowing with fall flowers, it looks like a florist’s wildest dream. Grace spared no time or expense, and the little wooden plane Bella and Drake modified from a North Earhart Oil sign is too perfect.
Fly high. Love higher, Quinn and Tory, it says, words painted on the frame lovingly by Bella herself.
Who’s actually standing with me now, right next to Grace, the two best bridesmaids in the world. Ridge, Grady, and Drake mirror them perfectly as groomsmen.
“Almost time, honey,” Mother says as she enters the dressing room. “Are you nervous?”
“I’m too happy to be nervous.”
She adjusts a curl hanging on the side of my face. “You really love him, don’t you?”
“With all my heart.” No longer afraid to admit anything, I add, “I have since I was a kid, the very first day we met. And that day I tumbled into the pie...let’s just say there was no going back.”
She smiles softly. “That’s what your grandmother says, too. I refused to believe it for years, thought it was just that awful woman trying to raise my blood pressure but...I was wrong, Tory. And I was wrong for ever thinking he wasn’t good enough.”
A wave of empathy fills me. I reach behind my shoulder and clasp her hand.
“I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”
Mother frowns. “Disappointed me?”
“I know you’d rather have me in Chicago, dancing the ballet, sucking up to Jean-Paul, but I truly am happy here, Mom. So very happy.”
She pats my face. “Perish the thought, darling. I’m happy you’re happy. All I ever wanted for you.”
“But wouldn’t you rather see me on Broadway?”
“No. I’d rather see you living your life and enjoying it. I realize now that I was selfish. I got a bit carried away in the scramble to help you catch your dreams—and part of me hoped you’d catch mine. You’ll understand someday when you have kids.”
I let out a soft, thoughtful sigh. Will I?
“You’ll want them to have everything. To succeed. To excel,” she continues. “That’s what I’ve always wanted for you. I just got confused by what I wanted and what you wanted. I know that now, and I’m sorry for what I put you through. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I’m stunned, but also impressed by her honesty.
Kissing her cheek, I say, “Of course. I just hope I can give my kids a childhood as wonderful as mine. I’ll always appreciate everything you did, the money you spent to try and make me happy. It didn’t get me to Broadway, but it’s made me the person I am. Thank you.”
“Oh, dear, now you’re making me cry! Don’t you dare make my mascara run.”
I hand her a tissue. “You still look great.”
“Yes, she does,” Dad says, walking into the room. “In fact, I believe I’m looking at the two most beautiful women in the world.” He walks over, kisses us both on the cheek, and then says, “You’re on, sweetheart. Showtime.”
Happiness fills me as I take the bouquet of flowers my mother hands me and then grasp my father’s arm. “I’m so ready.”
Moments later, as Dad walks me down the aisle to Quinn, I think I’m about to explode.
I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy.
My almost-husband was already the hottest man of the century, but now he looks atrociously stunning in his black tux and a wicked, sly grin that just pops the second he sees me.
Holy crap. Am I hyperventilating?
I’m about to be Mrs. Quinn Faulkner.
Tory Faulkner.
For the first time in my life, I’ll have one last name!