Page 51 of Heart Strings
Saoirse fixes a large garland of sunflowers and roses across the windshield and another across the back hatch. When Lo and I pulled up together, she gave me a knowing look.
Lo glances at her scheduling app and gives a satisfied nod to the hearse.
“Time to get ready,” she says. “I’ll see you later, Aidan.”
If she hadn’t asked for discretion, I’d pull her into a kiss. Instead, my attention drops to her mouth. While she’s having her makeup done, I want her to relive those moments when we steamed up the windows. I want the memory of my kiss to burnon her lips. Cielo lingers for a moment before she leaves, and I know it does.
So far I’d gotten on my knees—more or less—but I still have a way to go toward true atonement. After the ceremony, she could decide to make another clean break. Tonight might be my last chance to win her back.
I rip my gaze away from her and collect the window marker and leftover bolts of ribbon. “Saoirse, need any help?”
“My assistant is working on setting up the garden arch.”
My jaw drops when we enter the reception hall. What a gorgeous transformation. Burgundy and ivory linens cover tables laid with mountains of rustic florals. Roses fill the space with a sweet scent and willow branches rise high above the tables, offering ambiance as well as space for conversation. I can only imagine how lovely it will be bathed in flickering candlelight.
“This one still needs to be hung.” She gestures to a huge willow centerpiece. Moss and tiny fairy lights wrap around the gnarled branches, supporting an array of tapered candles.
“Wow. You’re getting really good at this.”
Pride beams on Saoirse’s face as she adjusts the ivory roses on one arrangement. “It was nice to have some creative license this time. Lark asked for something that told their story and let me run with it. Would you mind giving me a hand? There are screws in the beam over the head table.”
“No problem,” I assure her. The staff at the castle have already put out a ladder. I climb it and attach a cable to the eyelet, letting the excess hang all the way to the floor. Then I move the ladder and repeat the process.
Saoirse threads the cable through fasteners on the willow branches and starts to hoist the left half of it into the air.
Tapered candles affixed to each branch weigh it down more than we anticipated, and it swings suddenly. One of the candles falls out and we hear anouch.
Rubbing at the crown of his head, a tall, long-haired man using forearm crutches scowls up at me. While the staff has been working around the property all day, he wasn’t there a moment ago.
“Oh!” Saoirse cries. “I’m so sorry!”
His scowl evaporates. “Nice aim.” Maybe one of Lark’s guests?
“It was an accident,” she insists, her eyes going wide when theirs meet. Saoirse’s tall, but he’s built like a grizzly bear.
“Someone like you should be used to taking compliments.”
“What?” Flustered, Saoirse swipes her bangs out of her face. “I—well, I’m no—no.”
He awkwardly bends to pick up the candle, juggling the crutches and a clipboard, just as Saoirse reaches for it. Their hands brush and she flinches with a giggle I’ve never heard come out of her before. Apparently, she has a thing for long-haired men with big, dark eyes. Maybe I should look away, but honestly, this isn’t bad fodder for songwriting.
“I’m Gabe.” He hands her the candle. “Nice to meet you, Miss…”
“Saoirse Delany.”
They smile at each other for a beat. I can’t wait to tease Saoirse about how red her ears get when she blushes.
“Sorry, I’d help you hang that ugly thing up”—Gabe glances at the sleek crutches helping to prop him upright—“but ladders and I don’t get along.”
Saoirse stiffens. “Ugly?”
Uh-oh.
“I have to wonder if the bride or the florist was responsible for that idea. Vision doesn’t always equal taste.”
Saoirse tilts her head.
Gabe pulls a business card from the clipboard he’s carrying and hands it to her with a roguish smile. The lad has no idea of the danger he’s in. “If you’re looking for a real professional, I do event design.”
