Page 89 of Redemption

I nod, grabbing my best friend’s hand. “Yup. Right, Beckett?”

He smiles. “Yep. Presley’s gonna be my wife.”

Mama’s lips do that funny twitching thing. “Well, that’s lovely. Presley, may I say you make a stunning bride? And Beckett, honey, you are the most handsome seven-year-old I’ve ever seen.”

Beck smiles. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mama,” I say at the same time.

She claps her hands together. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from the weddin’. Just make sure you’re back in time for supper, okay?”

“Okay,” we both agree.

I grab Beck’s hand. “Let’s go. Clay’s probably already there waitin’ for us.”

“Okay, but I’m still not doin’ the gross kissin’ thing.”

I stick my tongue out at him. “Fine. We can hug. Deal?”

He shakes my hand like grown-ups do sometimes. “Deal.”

I blink a few times as the memory fades, glancing at my reflection in the full-length mirror. Today, I may be wearing a different dress, but the groom and the location are the same as they were over twenty years ago. It’s been eight months since the shooting. That was one of the scariest days of my life, but everything worked out thankfully in the end. Not wanting to be apart for another minute, I moved in with Beck the day he got home from the hospital. A week later, even though I had technically already proposed, he dropped to one knee, held out the same ring he used when we were first engaged, and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him. A month after that, we broke ground on our new home. And just last month, we welcomed our first guests to the Hope Equestrian Center for Healing. We’ve been insanely busy, but it’s rewarding work, and we’ve done it together, so I have zero complaints.

I look out the window of our master bedroom and see the guests taking their seats in the white folding chairs we had set out off to the side of the dock. I don’t know if I’ll ever tire of waking up to this view every morning.

“Honey, they’re ready for you. Your daddy’s downstairs waiting to escort you outside.”

I meet my mom’s eyes in the mirror. “Thank you, Mama. I’ll be right down.”

“You look beautiful, Presley.” She dabs at the tears forming at the corner of her eyes. “More importantly, you look happy.”

“Thank you. I can’t imagine feeling any happier than I am right now.” I smile. “I take that back. Once I finally become his wife, that’ll be even better.”

She smiles. “It’s been a long time coming, honey. Your father and I are so proud of both of you.”

Now I’m dabbing at my eyes. “Okay, okay, get on out of here before I start cryin’ and ruin my makeup.”

She laughs. “I’ll see you out there, sweetheart.”

When I get downstairs, my father is waiting inside the French doors that lead to our back deck. Beck and I wanted a simple ceremony, so we decided to forgo the tuxedos. The men in our wedding party are all wearing nice jeans, boots, and plaid pearl-snap western shirts. I’m wearing a sleeveless cream-colored dress, its layered chiffon falling to my ankles, and a pair of matching ballet flats. The top of my hair is pinned with a magnolia at the crown of my head, but the majority of my long waves are cascading down my back. An acoustic guitar melody begins as my father and I step outside and begin our slow march down the makeshift aisle.

My smile gets impossibly wide when I get my first glimpse of my groom, waiting for me under the wooden pergola he and Clayton made last week. It’s positioned right at the entrance to the dock, our pond serving as the perfect backdrop. Beck’s wearing a matching grin, his eyes never leaving mine during my approach. God, I can’t believe this day is finally here. As much as I tried denying it throughout the years, I never stopped dreaming of marrying him, wanting to recite vows and trade rings in front of the people we love most.

“Who gives this woman to be wedded to this man?” our minister asks when we reach the altar.

“Her mother and I do.” My father shakes Beck’s hand before placing my palm into my soon-to-be-husband’s.

“You may be seated,” Clayton tells our guests. Yes, my brother’s performing this ceremony, too, but this one will be legal thanks to the internet, unlike last time.

Beckett’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight when we turn toward each other. I love you, he mouths.

“I love you too,” I whisper back.

“Y’all ready for this?” Clayton asks us with a wink.

Beck and I both fight a laugh as we nod in reply.

Clay clears his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Presley Anne James and Beckett Ryder Armstrong. Now, as everyone in this town knows, it took these idiots long enough to get here, but they’re here now, so I guess we can’t give them any more grief about it. Don’t worry though, because as soon as they say their I do’s, you can start askin’ when they’ll be making babies, ‘cause you know y’all are thinking it.”

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