Page 55 of Thick and Thin

“So I invited him to live here. With us.”

Then it was as if the ground had shifted beneath my feet—but in the best way. And before I could even register just how surreal this all felt, Sinclair reached in his pocket before dropping to his knee in front of me.

“Annalise, I’m asking you for your hand in marriage. I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me, but you do. And I have grown to love you more than I could ever express. Both you and your father say I’m a good man, but I can assure you that I’m the best man I can be only thanks to you.”

My eyes had filled with tears again and my immediate reaction was to say yes—but I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t okay with my father. With my lips pursed, I tried to smile but failed before I glanced over at my father. His slow nod and gentle eyes gave his blessing.

“Yes.”

Still on his knee, Sinclair opened the tiny box in his hand and pulled out of it a lovely diamond ring—but my eyes were so blurry with tears, I couldn’t appreciate its intricacies. All I knew for certain was that there was a big diamond surrounded by dozens of tiny glittery ones—and the band appeared to be silver.

I asked, “White gold?”

He flashed a cocky grin at me. “And a couple of diamonds.”

I laughed as tears spilled down my cheeks. “Sinclair, you are the first man to see inside me, to know who I really am—and you accepted me for the person I am. I will always love you until the end of time.”

Sinclair stood, cupping my chin and pulling my mouth to his. It would have felt like we were the only ones in the world if I hadn’t heard Edna all but whisper to my father, “I’d say it’s about time.”

For the first time in all my years, I could say my life was perfect.

Another first was being able to enjoy watching Sinclair’s vast yard come to life. It started in March as the grass slowly regained its green color; then, in April, many of the first blooms appeared—tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths. By mid-May, the date of our wedding, the trees were full of green leaves and the flowers surrounding the house were in full bloom, many of which I didn’t even know the names.

It was the loveliest setting for a ceremony.

With the help of a wedding planner, Sinclair and I designed the perfect wedding. After setting the date, we made plans and contingency plans—because it was hard to predict what days it might rain when you’re making preparations in January.

Finally, though, the day had arrived—and it was perfect. The sun was shining and, as I peeked out of my bedroom window. This would be the last time this bedroom would be considered mine, as Sinclair and I would be sharing the newly remodeled master bedroom in the east wing. It looked similar to his old bedroom but had some feminine touches—and, of course, it was bigger. There was plenty of room for a bassinet or crib when the time came and anything else we might want.

My father’s new room would be in the east wing as well, but it wouldn’t be done for another week or so.

In the meantime, Sinclair’s heart had continued to expand. He invited Edna and her husband to move into the mansion in the west wing. When Edna had mentioned that she was planning to retire in a year or two, Sinclair doubled down on his offer, telling her she’d been the closest thing he’d ever known to a mother and he wanted to make sure she was taken care of in retirement.

Even still, the mansion had plenty of room to spare.

My father kept the house in Winchester but Sinclair insisted on fixing it up. After we had all our personal belongings moved to the mansion and the house and yard were brought up to date, Sinclair hired a property manager to handle short-term rentals as well as a cleaning service. Whenever my dad wanted to spend a few days “back at home,” all he had to do was book the house—and when Sinclair needed to check in on the developments of the newly opened mine or attend an event at WCC, we planned to stay there as well. I wondered if, after spending one night there, he’d change his mind and either book a hotel or come back to the mansion, but I loved his willingness to try experiencing my old life.

And Sinclair and I had spent months not only planning our wedding but our lives. We wanted at least two children and agreed that they would be our priority. We wanted our progeny to feel loved and cared for without being spoiled. It would be a fine line to walk, but we’d manage. It helped that Edna and my father would be close by to help.

In the meantime, I had attended my first semester at the University of Denver and had just finished finals the week before. Never had I been so happy, so ready to embrace the future.

Looking out over the yard, I saw people already starting to arrive. The wedding planner had arranged for valet parking so we could fit one-hundred fifty of the most important people in the Whittiers’s lives in Sinclair’s front yard.

Our front yard. It was hard retraining myself to think that way.

Our house. Our home. All Sinclair had he freely shared with me as I did with him.

There was a knock at my door, pulling me from my thoughts. “Come in.”

“No way in hell.” It was Sinclair’s voice at the door. “I just wanted to tell you I love you—now, while you’re still a single woman.”

I nearly raced to the door—but that was impossible in the custom-made gown. It truly was lovely—all white and shimmery, made of a fabric I had never touched before. It was fitted from my bust to my knees in what the designer had called mermaid style so I had to take smaller steps than usual—and the train spread out several feet behind me. I had yet to attach the veil, but I’d have help with that soon enough.

When I got to the door, I touched it, imagining his hand was splayed in the same spot as mine on the other side so that we were virtually holding hands. “I love you too.”

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

For just a second, I thought he was serious. But then I laughed. It had taken Sinclair several conversations to convince his father that we were getting married, with or without his blessing.

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