Page 90 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

Rowan, Oliver, and Rose cheer for us. It’s meek compared to the sound of a huge swarm of guests, yet feels thunderous and better than any other way we could have done this.

We walk out of the courthouse hand in hand with our friends.

“Now introducing, mister and missus McCoy!” Oliver announces through cupped hands onto the city streets.

I shake my head, smiling. “We haven’t decided on a last name, yet.”

Rowan bumps Iris on the arm. “Trying to get him to put your name before the hyphen?”

“Galletto-McCoy sounds better than McCoy-Galletto,” Oliver says. “Not to mention it’s alphabetical.”

I glance at Iris, though the glance turns into a sappy stare. “Whatever my wife wants.”

Iris,my wife, grins. “I like the sound of that, husband.”

I kiss the tip of her nose.

The five of us pile into a limo and head to the reception. Oliver and Rowan insisted they host one for us. We wanted the wedding to be small, just us and them. Then we could celebrate at family dinner on the weekend.

“You have to have a party!” Rowan exclaimed. “It would be unacceptable if you didn’t.”

We compromised that they could plan an all out bash for us as long as it’s hosted at the Hawthorn house. That way it could feel a bit more lowkey, somewhere familiar and loving.

From the moment the limo pulls up to the house, Iris and I know the last word to describe this party is going to be “lowkey”.

The house is bathed in a soft, golden glow, like something out of a fairy tale. String lights are draped across the trees, casting a delicate web of twinkling lights over the lawn.

Lanterns line the pathway, flickering like fireflies in the afternoon breeze as Rowan leads us down the stone pathway around the house rather than inside. “We got lucky with a warm day.”

The sprawling terrace, which normally feels expansive, has been transformed into an elegant outdoor lounge.

Velvet couches in rich tones are scattered beneath sheer draped canopies, creating intimate seating areas where guests sip champagne. Massive floral arrangements spill out from every corner, filling the air with their sweet and alluring scent.

It almost looks too perfect to be real.

The familiar faces of our friends blur into the background for a moment as we stand at the end of the garden path.

Iris’s fingers tighten around mine, eyes flicking to me. “It’s like a dream.”

“Better than that." I kiss the side of her head. Better than a dream because it’s all real life.

Ash emerges from the crowd with a glass of champagne, holding it high. “To the bride and groom!”

All the guests lift their glasses in a toast.

A surge of pride flows through me.

I pull Iris close and give her a kiss.

Everyone cheers in response.

Irish cups my cheek, kissing me back.

When we break apart, we’re smiling so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if our faces stick like this.

“This is too much, you guys,” Iris says to Rowan and Oliver.

“Not too much for our best friends.” Rowan kisses Iris on the cheek. “Congratulations.”

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