Page 77 of Love You Too

Colin wraps his wife in an embrace, and my sister kisses him until a series of whistles and whoops from her guests brings her up for air. She holds her bouquet in the air and grins at Colin before moving slowly down the aisle. In her long white column dress and hair in a twist, she looks every bit the magazine bride. I watch them hug guests along the way until they disappear around the corner of the restaurant.

The rest of the wedding party couples off and walks back down the aisle, too. As maid of honor, I’m the last to go, on the arm of Trey, Colin’s best friend from college. The string quartetplays “Isn’t She Lovely,” and I have to laugh at Colin’s choice for his bride. It says everything a person needs to know about how much he worships her.

Trey and I walk slowly behind the rest of the wedding party. My arm is looped through his, but my eyes stay where they’ve been for most of the ceremony—pinned on the sly smile of Dominick Renaldi, who’s been watching me like a wolf getting ready to devour his dinner. If I thought anyone else noticed, I might feel embarrassed, but standing next to the altar with my pregnant belly, I feel beautiful.

There isn’t another person who could make me feel the way Ren does just by looking at me, and it’s not because he likes the way I look. I mean, he does, obviously. He’s made that clear, but what I feel when his eyes roam over me is that he appreciates everything I am, starting well beneath the surface. He’s special that way, and I’m just nervous that it’s too good to be true.

When Trey and I reach the end of the wedding area and move toward where the cocktail reception is taking place in the vineyard, I give him a hug. “Nice walking with you, Trey.”

“Likewise. Thanks for making sure I didn’t go too fast.”

“Ha. Yeah, no runaway groomsmen here.”

It was our inside joke that there’s always one nervous bridesmaid or groomsman who walks down the aisle really quickly like they’re on the run from the law. We each vowed to keep each other moving at a proper wedding pace.

“I’ll catch up with you later. Try the sauvignon blanc. I promise you’ll like it.”

“Good tip from a winemaker.” He gives me a high five and moves along with the crowd. Good guy. Easy. Nice looking. But he doesn’t hold a candle to Dominick Renaldi.

I turn around to find him where he said he’d wait for me. The wedding crowd is filing out, so I can’t see him at first. It takes a little navigating through the rows of white chairs on the lawn toget back to the spot where I left him earlier. And there he is, standing with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

For a second, I think he’s plucked them from one of the pots lining the ceremony space, but these are daisies. Nothing like the ones my sister insisted on—all deep pinks and dark oranges. These are my kind of flowers. Of course he remembers. This man has probably been planning this for ten years. It gives me a whole new appreciation for Ren and all the faith I need that he’s in this for his own reasons.

Turning down a row of chairs, I make my way to him with a smile, touched by the flowers and expecting to see his usual easygoing grin in return. Instead, he looks serious as he holds up the bouquet of simple white blooms tied loosely with a raffia string.

“Hey.” I push my hands through my hair for the first time since our hairdresser sent me to the family photo session with strict instructions not to touch a strand. “Whew. Glad we took the photos before the wedding. Now, I can relax.”

Ren nods, but the concerned look doesn’t leave his face. “Are you okay?”

He nods.

I pull a hair tie from where I’ve hidden it inside my own bouquet and start to twist my hair up and out of my face.

“No.”

I startle at the gruff instruction, and I’m about to ask what the problem is when Ren takes the hair tie out of my hand. “Leave it down.” Then, possibly worried he sounds too bossy, Ren adds, “Please.”

“Okay.”

I stand in front of Ren, whose expression now borders on tortured, waiting for him to tell me whatever he has to say. For an agonizingly long time, he’s silent, and my brain kicks into gear. “What’s wrong? Did something happen with the team? Do you need to leave?”

“No. It’s not that, not at all.” He rubs a hand over hisface, and I pray he doesn’t shove it into his hair because it looks so damn good and perfect in the tousled way it is. Then I kick myself for still being so dazzled by the way he looks that it’s stealing focus from what he’s trying to tell me.

“Ren, what is it?”

Seeming to remember that he’s holding flowers, he presents them to me. “These are for you.”

I put the bridesmaid bouquet down on a chair and take the proffered flowers. “They’re my favorites. Thank you.”

“I know.” Slowly, he drops to one knee.

My mind goes to the idea that he must have lost something, and I start to bend toward where he is to help him look.

I bend down right into an open ring box, which he’s holding out toward me. I’m hit by a wave of dizziness that has me clapping a hand across my chest. My heart flies into my throat and starts beating a million miles a minute.

“Beatrix…” Ren looks up at me and instantly bursts out laughing. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Am I… Ren, what are you doing?” I ask, taking a wobbly step backward. I’m really regretting the choice of two-inch heels right now, and I want to yell at Mallory for letting me talk her into them.

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