Loch, handsome and smiling in his tuxedo, had walked up the aisle and was standing at the pagoda, waiting for his beautiful bride. Hundreds of people sat in folding chairs on either side of a pathway of pink and white rose petals which led to the pagoda, which was decked with pink and white roses.
Frank Sinclair sat next to Megan, holding her hand. None of the other Sinclairs were in attendance. Sadly, they were in Morgan County, planning Portia’s funeral. They also knew that Aurora’s vandalism had been exposed, and they were no longer welcome in Tate’s or Loch’s pack territories, ever.
Ginger’s mother sat in the front row on the left, blubbering noisily into a handkerchief. Sitting next to her were Ginger’s three younger sisters, all of them curvy, pretty and strongly resembling Ginger.
Tate and Lainey sat with his family on the right side of the aisle. Felix, unbearably cute in a tuxedo, leaned on Lainey’s arm.
As Ginger walked up the aisle, her father’s arm linked through hers, Lainey found herself tensing up, watching every single step, praying that nothing else would go wrong. Ginger, wrapped in a frothy confection of white, looked radiant, with a wreath of pink and white roses on her head, setting off her glorious curls. Not surprisingly, she’d opted not to wear the tiara.
With every step that she took towards the pagoda, Lainey’s muscles clenched more and more, and she found she was holding her breath.
Would Ginger make it? Was the dark cloud finally lifted?
Ginger’s father let go of her arm, and she climbed the steps to the pagoda and turned to face her beamed husband-to-be, and Lainey let out her breath and slumped against Tate in relief.
The pastor turned towards the crowd and cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved…” he began.
THE END