Page 122 of Broken on the Mountain
She wassupposedto be here by now. My sister and her husband.
Their flight from Munich was delayed this morning because of the weather. The same weather that's currently threatening to blow every carefully placed decoration into the next county.
"No," I say. "We go now. She'll make it for the reception."
Jamie nods, claps me on the shoulder, looking towards the heavens. "Smart call. It's about to come down, I think."
"Besides," I add, watching Isabella attempt to braid wildflowers into Travis's beard, "life hands you all kinds of shitty moments. Sometimes you just gotta roll with it."
"Profound, Morrison."
"I have my moments."
The truth is, I've learned that the hard way.
Because you can't control everything. Flights get delayed. Babies arrive early. Your family moves to another continent and you spend years feeling like you're not enough for anyone to stay.
But sometimes, if you're lucky, you find someone who chooses you anyway. Who sees all your messy, broken parts and says, "Yeah, I'll take that. All of it."
And then you marry her in the meadow you took her on your first date. Full of wildflowers while your daughter feeds gummy bears to your groomsmen.
"Positions, everyone!" Betty's voice carries across the meadow like a general commanding troops. "The bride is ready!"
My heart kicks against my ribs.
Travis extracts himself from Isabella's flower-braiding session and takes his place beside Knox and his new girl. Beau straightens his tie and lays an arm around Molly. Jamie gives me one last look that saysjust be yourselfbefore moving to stand with Brooke.
And then I see her.
Piper.
She's walking toward me through the wildflowers, and I forget how to breathe.
Her white dress is simple. Lace that moves with every hard gust of wind, bare shoulders, hair loose and golden in the afternoon light. She's carrying a bouquet of lupine and poppies, the same flowers that surrounded us that first weekend when I brought her here and realized I was completely screwed.
And the best bit?
She's wearing mountain boots.
Of course she is.
Our eyes meet, and she grins that wide, unguarded smile that still knocks me sideways after all these years. I'm pretty sure I'm already crying.
"Told you," Isabella whispers loudly. "Daddyalwayscries."
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and Piper's grin widens as she reaches me. Brooke takes her bouquet, and then it's just us, standing in the middle of Wildflower Meadow while everyone we love watches.
"Hi," she says softly.
"Hi yourself."
"You're crying."
"You're wearing boots."
"The boots match the dress."
"You say that about everything."
