Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
He glanced at the window again then back at me. “There are times when I am deeply shamed that although you’re half my age, you have twice the emotional maturity that I do.”
“Ooh, be careful, Elwood. That’s something I can use against you in future arguments.” The knot of uncertainty in my chest eased even more. It hadn’t untied completely, but at least it was a loose loop that could be shaken out. I took his hand and lifted it to my lips to kiss his knuckles.
He chuckled. “I suspect that was something you already knew.”
“It was.” I tried to hide my smile, but I was so relieved to get all of this out in the open. “I think Emma’s cold feet are catching.”
“I think you might be right. I’m sure it’s no secret that I’m not enthusiastic at the prospect of losing my daughter to Michael—”
“Hey, you said ‘Michael,’ not ‘Horrible Michael! You’re making progress,” I congratulated him.
“Yes, thank you, Sophie, truly I am making great strides.” His tone was dry as unbuttered toast. “As I was saying, I can’t help but wonder if my sudden reluctance doesn’t have to do with the fact that everything is changing. Moving from the city, retiring, turning fifty. It’s a bit of an upheaval.”
“Well, it’s all different for me, too. Remember at Christmas, how we said no big changes?” I shrugged. “We’re not very good at following rules. Either of us.”
He chuckled, but it was a wary sort of sound.
“I want to go to my future stepdaughter‘s wedding tomorrow, with my future husband,” I continued. “I want to stand there and think, ‘what lovely flower arrangements, let’s do that for ours.’ I want to be Neil Elwood’s fiancée. I wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ if I didn’t want that.”
He squeezed our interlaced fingers and said, with a shaky breath, “I want that, too.”
I reached for him, he reached for me, and we held each other as though we’d crossed a physical distance, instead of an emotional one.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Natural History museum was one of those iconic buildings I’d passed many times, but never actually been inside of until the night of Emma’s rehearsal. I’d been impressed then, but seeing how they handled a wedding was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
The ceremony took place in the Powerhouse, a quasi-industrial space with a separate entrance from the museum. Beneath the black ceiling and exposed fixtures, contradictory greenery and camellia branches flourished. Even the chairs were dressed with decorative vines, ingeniously wrapped so as not to stain the guests’ clothing. It was like a New York fairytale forest, fit for a thoroughly American—despite her birthplace—princess.
And when Emma walked down the aisle…
She wore a French vintage dress from the 1930’s, layers upon layers of soft beige chiffon, with sheer sleeves and ruffled cuffs. The neckline was a wide V, and soft, limp ruffles hung from it, down her shoulders to a cowl back. There wasn’t a train so much as a puddle of fabric on the floor that slithered like liquid with every step. Instead of a veil, she wore faux seed pearls on strands of her tousled blonde bob, and her makeup was minimal and natural.
She was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen. Maybe I was biased, because she was Emma, and I loved her.
Neil and I were beside Valerie in the front row. As the mother of the bride, Valerie had been seated mercifully last, so we hadn’t had to speak to her. Still, I couldn’t begrudge her the looks of pride she and Neil shared as their daughter stepped up before the officiant and beamed at Michael.
Neil took my hand and held it between us, lacing our fingers together. He squeezed, almost too hard, and I realized he was trying to remain stoic and proud, rather than break down sobbing. I wondered if the handkerchief in the lapel pocket of his tailcoat was just for show. When Michael recited the vows he’d written himself—promising Emma that he would stand by her side through sunshine and through storm, declaring that the love they shared would help them overcome any challenge—I got the answer to my question. Neil surreptitiously dabbed at his eyes, and when Valerie reached over and patted his arm, I did not lunge at her and rip her throat out like a feral dog. I got it. They had created a beautiful person together, and she had found the one human being on Earth who would love her as much as they did. I couldn’t help but be touched to see them so happy for their daughter.
Neil and Valerie really did have a bond that would never go away. That didn’t threaten my life with him. It didn’t excuse her terrible behavior, either. It was what it was, and if the choice was between having to deal with Valerie’s presence in Neil’s life, or Emma just not existing, I was going to pick Emma every time.