Page 104 of Mistletoe & Magic
Not a placeholder. Not someone temporary.A mom.
She pulls back just enough to see my face. Relief loosens hermouth, and she sags against me again. “I was glad you said yes. I love you, Ivy.”
“I love you more,” I say, and kiss her forehead. The ring flashes near her cheek and she gasps.
“It’s so pretty.”
Finn and Tate pretend to look anywhere but at us while they grin like fools. Finn gives Remy the useless manly nod that means everything. Tate wipes his cheek with the back of his wrist and declares it is dust. A photographer walks up, smiling, and takes quiet shots from the side while Junie crawls off my lap to examine the cake with scientific attention.
“Can I have a bite?” she asks.
“You can have the whole piece,” Remy says, and she cheers like someone handed her the moon. “I brought extra, because I had a feeling you’d join us.”
We eat cake with forks straight from the container because nothing about this day requires a plate. The frosting is exactly what he promised. Thick and sweet with the kind of buttercream that melts first and then leaves the flavor behind to visit twice.
Finn takes a few photos with my phone. Tate pretends to direct like a film auteur. The photographer stays kind and invisible and somehow gets photos when I forget he is there. Remy kisses my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. The sky brightens like it approves.
On the walk back we go slow. Junie swings between us and counts the steps to the barn like it is a game that matters. Finn and Tate carry the basket and the blanket and talk about how Willa and Rowan are going to want every single detail as soon as possible. Remy squeezes my hand every few minutes like he needs to verify this is real. I squeeze back like I agree.
I wash my sticky fingers in the kitchen sink and stareat the ring while water runs over my hands. It looks right. It looks like it has been there forever, even though it’s brand new.
“You keep looking at it,” Remy says, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed and his smile soft.
“I keep checking to see if this is a dream.”
“It’s not.”
“Good,” I say, and reach for him again because I cannot not.
He kisses me until Junie yells from the hallway that we’re gross and that she needs help. We break apart and try to look like responsible adults.
“Later,” he murmurs. There is a promise in the word.
“Later,” I agree.
We make the announcement like people who cannot hold good news inside. We stop at the bookstore first. The bell jingles, and the whole place smells like coffee and books. Lilith is behind the counter labeling jars. Willa and Rowan are perched on stools with coffee cups in their hands and grins on their faces when they see us.
Lilith looks up at me at once and catches the light on my hand. Her mouth goes round in a perfect circle. “Oh,” she says, and then she is around the counter, and we are pressed together, and I am crying again because she is crying, and Rowan is already getting out a sheet of paper to plan my wedding flowers.
“You said yes,” Rowan says, like she participated in the choosing.
“I said yes.”
“Of course you did,” she says, wiping at her eyes and pretending she is not.
“I’m so happy for you!” Willa says.
Donna is next, because there is no reality where she hears it third. We drive over and find her at her desk with a pen behind her ear and a stack of pages that smell like ink and plot. She stands when we walk in, eyes flicking from my faceto my hand to Remy’s face. She presses her hands to her chest.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says, and when she hugs me, she smells like powder and peppermint. “I am so happy I could burst. Look at you. Look at you both.”
Pete appears from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder and kisses the top of my head. He hugs Remy and pretends not to cry. He winks at Junie and calls her Miss Mayor, and she bows with gravitas like this is a ceremony he prepared her for. Those two always have inside jokes.
Pete’s still struggling, but he has had some good days. He’s on a new medication and it is making him comfortable. We’re taking every day we have with him as a gift and cherishing them, because that’s all you can do. Tomorrow is never promised to anyone.
We head back to the farm because it feels right to bring the day home. The sun finally breaks and slips under the clouds, laying a gold edge on the grove. Lola sits in the window with the superiority of a monarch who approves of this match. Junie runs ahead and then runs back, unable to decide whether to be first into the house or first into my arms.
When the door closes behind us, the quiet is not empty. It is full. Remy leans his back against the wood and pulls me in. His voice goes low. “My wife,” he says, trying the word on like a new coat.
