Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
But that was easier said than done.
Everyone who knew my father was in the church. They gave me their condolences and congratulated me on my wedding. Other people shed their tears for my father, so I wasn’t the only one. Like any real husband would do, Maverick had his arm around my waist, being a public crutch to my misery.
We sat in the pews and listened to the service performed by the priest. I sat in the very front with Maverick by my side. We were the only people in the front because I was the only family he had left.
My fingers clutched the speech I’d written the night before. As his daughter, I should say something, tell everyone in that church what a great father he was. But the ink was splotched with my tears, and my hands shook because I couldn’t keep my composure. I wasn’t afraid to address hundreds of people inside a church.
I just didn’t think I could stop crying long enough to get a few words out.
The priest then addressed me. “Now Martin’s daughter, Arwen, has a few words to share with us.”
I hadn’t stopped crying, and the idea of saying the words I’d penned the night before broke my heart. He’d told me he had cancer less than two weeks ago. I had to accept his death in a short amount of time, but I hadn’t accepted his departure enough to speak even somewhat coherently. I clutched the paper with a shaking hand and willed myself to rise to my feet and complete my duty.
But I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t stop crying.
All eyes were on me, and I was too depressed to even feel embarrassed.
Maverick took the paper from my hand and stood.
I stopped crying long enough to look up and see him walk up the steps to the pulpit, my speech in hand. In a black suit with a matching tie, he looked as handsome as he did on our wedding day. With dark eyes that matched his attire, he looked fit enough to be the model for his own line of cologne. Commanding the room in a way even the priest couldn’t do, he stood at the pulpit and addressed everyone. “I’m Maverick DeVille, Arwen’s husband.” With broad shoulders and a calm façade, he looked out at all the people watching him, not the least bit intimidated by their stares. “My wife has been crippled by the loss, so I’ll speak on her behalf. Before I read what she’s written, I have a few words of my own. When I met Martin Chatel, the one thing that was most obvious to me was the love he had for his daughter. Nothing else mattered to him, and when he understood his days were limited, all he could think about was the wellbeing of his beloved Arwen. We’d intended to marry a year from now, but Martin said it would mean the world to him if he could walk his daughter down the aisle. He told me he would live long enough to see it through—but not much after. He was always kind to me, telling me how much he appreciated the way I cared for his daughter. His fatherly love is obvious to anyone who can feel, and I could feel it anytime I was in the room with him. Above all else, that is the greatest compliment I can give him. He was a good man—and an amazing father.”
Tears continued to stream down my face, and I was so grateful that Maverick took the reins when I could barely stand. He was a much better speaker than I was—at least right now. If I were to speak, my words would be muffled by the sobs of sorrow that screamed out of my chest.
He surveyed everyone in the room then turned to the note I’d written. He glanced it over and then he started to read from it. “Ever since I was a little girl, my father called me princess. He got me a plastic tiara, and I wore it every single day for an entire year. When I started school, I was told I had to leave it at home—because a princess doesn’t always need her crown. Even when I became a grown woman, he never called me by any other name. I was always ‘princess.’ I don’t know how I’ll live the rest of my life without hearing that nickname again, but I know I’ll always be his princess.” Maverick tilted his head down and read the next paragraph, grasping what I wanted to say before he spoke again. “Watching him lose my mother was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Once she was gone, he was never the same. He still loved me, but that light in his eyes was permanently gone the moment her soul left this earth. I try to remember that he’s with her now, that they’re finally together again—looking down on me. He wouldn’t want me or anyone else to be so devastated by this loss. Even at a time when he was barely able to get out of bed, he put a smile on his face, put on his suit, and walked me down the aisle like it was the happiest day of his life—not mine. I’ll miss my father for so many reasons, but the biggest reason of all—he was my closest friend. But one day I’ll see him again. It may be a long time from now, but once my soul leaves this earth, I’ll find his and mother’s once again—and we’ll be a family. On that day, he’ll smile and once again call me his princess.” Maverick folded the note and slipped it into his pocket before he left the pulpit and returned to his seat. As if he hadn’t just helped me in my time of need, he stared straight ahead like nothing unusual had happened.