Page 124 of His Last Shot
Is she going to go through with it?
I have no idea.
The wedding march begins, and I crane my neck so that the entryway of the aisle is in my full view. She rounds the corner, smiling just like we practiced a million times in our living room.
I release the biggest sigh of relief as her eyes meet mine.
I melt.
Our daughter Piper is the flower girl in Mallory’s wedding. But nerves got the best of her right before the ceremony, even crying, saying that she didn’t want to do it.
So, Rachel came and got me because, of course, she wanted her daddy.
The three-year-old currently walking towards us has me wrapped around her finger so tight, I lost circulation the dayshe was born.
At first, Rachel and I had a hard time conceiving. We knew we wanted kids right away. Neither of us was getting any younger, so right after our wedding, one year after I proposed, we started trying. Obviously, we were discouraged, of course, but let’s face it, the trying part was fun.
After lots of tests and tears, we got no answers as to why we couldn’t get pregnant. There was nothing wrong with Rachel or me. The doctors suspected that since Rachel was thirty-six, coupled with her RA, perhaps her body wasn’t cooperating.
Needless to say, it was a hard, dark, and sad time.
Over time, when we finally surrendered to a life that would only be us, the double line appeared. Nine months later, another woman entered my orbit. And my heart.
Rachel needed a C-section because of some complications. The entire experience was next-level scary, but when it was over, the first cry of my daughter filled my ears, and it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard. I had the privilege of holding her first, and when the nurse placed her in my arms, I was a goner.
Sorry, fellas, but no man will ever be good enough.
You hear people talk about the love and connection they have with their kids. And you believe them, of course. You see it. But it isn’t until you experience it yourself that you truly feel it. My heart became bigger that day. And it’s because of the two women in my life. They make me whole.
Piper and Rachel are everything to me.
Never in a million years did I think I would become a father at fifty-four years old. Hell, some of my buddies are grandfathers. But not me—Rachel and my daughter keep me young. A tile installer at a job site just last week thought I was in my forties. I told his boss to promote him.
Redirecting my attention to my daughter, I smile as I watch her tiny, delicate hand dip into the basket, tossing flower petals on the white runner. Her white taffeta dress, with a dusty pink bow around her waist, sways as she walks. Her “wedding girl crown,” as she called it, rests on top of her head, shimmering with every step.
Hands down, the cutest flower girl that has ever lived.
Piper is tall for her age, which is to be expected. Her hair is dark blonde like mine, and she has her mom’s big brown eyes. And her personality? Sass for days.
Lord help me.
I’m full of pride as I watch Scott behind Piper with Mallory on his arm. Her arm is encircling his as he holds tight to her hand.
Mallory has grown into a strong, independent young woman, and I couldn’t be prouder of the person she has become despite her autism. Plus, she is marrying a wonderful young man named Caleb, who treasures her and accepts her for who she is.
Something I hope for my daughter someday.
I internally roll my eyes at the thought.
I look at Scott; if I’m not mistaken, a single tear glistens and slowly rolls along his weathered cheek.
Oh, I’m going to relentlessly tease him about that; he’ll never live it down!
Rachel squeezes my arm as we both watch our little angel take the last few steps. In order to persuade her to walk down the aisle and prevent a last-minute freakout, I promised Piper that she could sit with us if she made it all the way to the altar.
Making promises. I still make them with Rachel, and now I do with my daughter. All the time.
And I intend to keep every one of them.
