Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159208 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 796(@200wpm)___ 637(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
The walkway takes us to a circular clearing tucked in a thicket of huge old trees. A judge stands in the middle of the circle with the Bible. Two lines of tall white folding chairs are arranged neatly around the paved circle, and my mom waits at the end in a lace dress.
I take her arm. “Let’s find you a seat. I’m sure you’ve been running your tail off.”
“Oh, Lincoln, she’s so beautiful today. You’ll cry when you see her.” She blots her eyes, already shedding enough tears for the entire guest list.
I laugh softly, pleasantly surprised.
I expected Ma to be taken aback by the black dress. Apparently, she’s so happy I’m tying the knot that she doesn’t even mention it.
Wyatt and I lead her to the front row seating, and then I wait next to the judge. Wyatt stands beside me, adjusting his tie.
Then, with a swell of violins, my future begins.
Eliza steps out of the trees at the end of the aisle in a sleek blue Haughty But Nice bridesmaid gown, slowly walking toward us. She carries a small bundle of white baby’s breath and moves like she’s gliding on air, only stopping when she’s next to us, leaving a space for my Nevermore.
Dakota and her dad come out of the trees next, and she’s—not wearing the black dress she promised.
My eyebrows pull down as I swallow a chuckle. My heart hits my rib cage at the same time.
“You fell for it,” Wyatt whispers conspiratorially.
I’d dart him a look if I wasn’t transfixed on the angel in front of me.
“She loves to harass me,” I mutter, grateful that I’ve got an entire lifetime of that ahead.
The dress she actually wears is white, flowing around her flawlessly like silk fog. With tiny rosebuds pinned in her blond hair, she’d be the envy of every runway model up and down the West Coast.
“She’s...breathtaking,” I whisper, my voice stolen.
Wyatt smiles knowingly.
Her father, a large pleasant man with a round face and rounder gut, walks her to me and places her hand in mine.
“Take care of her for me,” he whispers, clasping my hand so tight in his it almost breaks.
“I will, Harold,” I promise.
“We wrote our own vows,” Dakota says.
The judge smiles. “Go ahead and get started, if you please.”
“I’ll go first,” she offers.
Oh, shit.
Dakota’s first poetry book is already racking up acclaim with the critics. I don’t want to go after her since it’ll be a tough act to follow.
“Sweetheart, let me,” I whisper, taking her hand in mine as she nods.
I’m grateful it’s a small audience now.
The entire world seems to shrink and fall silent, condensing around us in this weird, remarkable bubble that’s just her drumming heart and mine.
“Dakota Poe, I never knew I needed anyone else in my life until the day you refused to give up a cinnamon roll—”
She giggles, so does everyone else.
“You were beautiful and feisty and strong. I never expected to see you again after our run-in. Then you danced into my office and wrapped my staff around your little finger. You made me think. You opened my eyes. You rocked my entire world. I love you more than life because you made me whole, and you still do every single day we’re together. I know better than anyone that I’m a work in progress. You, sweetheart, are my muse. Will you be my forever?”
She smiles and nods vigorously with a heavy tear shining in her eye.
“Yes,” she says breathlessly.
Then she pulls her hand from mine and finds a folded piece of paper inside the bouquet she’s still holding.
“I’m not done...” I remind her.
Though I wish I were because then I wouldn’t be rendered nearly speechless. Her soft smile becomes a wide grin, and those dazzling emerald eyes stare up at me.
“From today forward, we’ll love with a love that’s more than love.”
Her smile deepens, even as she looks a bit puzzled at how I’ve butchered Edgar Allan’s line from “Annabel Lee.”
I don’t think that’s how it goes, her eyes say.
“Had to tweak it,” I tell her, leaning in to meet her eyes. “With us, it’ll never be past tense.”
I’m not quiet enough. Mom laughs, and our entire wedding party beams at us.
“I love you,” she whispers, looking down at the piece of paper in her hand. “I’ve never been good at big speeches, but I did write this...”
She clears her throat and begins to read her latest epic while I stand there like a stone, listening.
“She lives between the black of night and shades of grey.
Then comes an ivory Adonis, all spinning light.
He, who woke a heart from cold dead.
Her white knight.
Her heaven thread.
He made a withered heart beat red,
Terrified, she curled in dread.
“This is no game,” he said.
“Please take my name.”
Fear begs, “But what if you change your mind?
Change your life? Leave me behind?”