I closed my eyes for a beat, urging myself to relax. Chloe is fine. She’s not going to come down the aisle with a cleaver. Just fucking calm down, Ben.
The music changed and I heard the sound of three hundred and fifty bodies stand up, a collective sigh that ran through the guests. I opened my eyes just as everyone turned to see the bride at the end of the aisle.
My Chloe.
Everything seemed to settle at once and for the first time in my life, absolutely nothing else mattered. Not deadlines or work, just this. My brain—which thrived on spreadsheets and order and managing every detail of my life and the lives of those around me—had gone quiet. Not in an unpleasant way, but in a way that finally said, take a seat and pay attention because this moment is bigger than you and every decision you’ve ever made.
Chloe’s chin was tucked low, her arm looped through her dad’s and she clutched a bouquet of orchids in her free hand. Her hair was piled on top of her head and where I’d normally be plotting how I’d get it down and get my fingers in it while I threw her down onto any available flat surface, all I could think about was how I wanted to leave it up. I could see every inch of her face, and she looked so beautiful. I wanted to freeze this moment, stretch it out, and make it last forever.
It was clear that Chloe, even down to the last moment, was working something out. Her eyes were closed, her face arranged in a look of concentration as she sifted through her thoughts. Just as clear was the moment she figured it all out. Lifting her head, her eyes moved up the aisle to me, and it was as if time stopped and everything else fell away. I could feel myself smile, then see it reflected in the way her entire face seemed to light up, and I did the only thing I could think.
I whispered the words, “Come here.”
Chapter Seven
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
It’s only three hundred and fifty people looking at me.
It’s only a river of mud on the aisle.
It’s only a tire print across my maid of honor’s pregnant belly.
It’s only one ceremony, it’s only getting through one day. It’s only the love of your life at the end of that aisle.
My father tucked my arm into the crook of his, and wrapped his fingers over mine. “Ready, sweetheart?”
I swallowed, nodding, and said, “No.”
“You have second thoughts over marrying this Benson character?”
I looked up at him and laughed at the teasing in his eyes. “No, I don’t have any second thoughts over Benson. It’s just . . . the way the last two days have gone, I’m worried there will be an earthquake when I walk down the aisle, or a tsunami, or—”
“Well, maybe there will be an earthquake, or maybe there will be a tsunami. But you can’t control the elements any more than you can control who you love. So are we going to do this wedding business or go get a drink in a bunker?”
I squeezed his hand and took a step forward, moving from the solid concrete of the patio to the soft, sodden mess of the lawn. My foot sank into the grass, and I pulled it up with a loud squelching sound. Beside me, my father nearly lost his balance in the mud.
“Pretend you’re a feather,” Dad whispered, and we both broke into laughter. “Lighter than air.”
But then we turned the slight corner and I saw it.
The guests.
The wedding party.
The man who was going to be my husband in only a matter of minutes.
His eyes met mine and the biggest smile I’d ever seen stretched across his face. For several long seconds, I couldn’t walk. I could barely breathe. The only thing I could do was stare at Bennett standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me. He wore a perfectly tailored tux, and a perfectly devastating smile. He looked just like I felt: elated, overwhelmed, on the verge of falling over.