Page 72 of A Family Kind of Wedding (Forever Family 3)

“You don’t have to say anything. Really.”

His fingers tightened over her arms. “I love you, Katie Kinkaid, and I’ve known it for weeks.” All the words that he’d bottled up started tumbling out of his mouth as he tried to convince her of the truth. “It’s just that I felt like such a heel because of the Ralph Sorenson thing.”

“No—”

“Believe me.”

“No, I—”

“Katie, will you marry me?”

The world seemed to stop. The breeze died, and the hawk disappeared. It was as if they were entirely alone in the universe with that one simple question hanging precariously between them. “Wh-what?”

“Katie Kinkaid, I want you to be my wife.” He reached for her then, and drew her close. “You’re not going to make me get down on my knees and beg you, are you?”

She laughed. “No…but…it would be a nice vision.” Swallowing hard, she stared up at him, and in her eyes he saw his future. “Of course I will,” she said with a grin, “but just tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“What took you so long to ask?”

EPILOGUE

The preacher smiled as he looked at Luke and Katie. “You may kiss the bride,” he said, then turned to J.D. and Tiffany, “And you, too, may kiss the bride.”

The guests filling the hundred-year-old church whispered and chuckled, and Katie leaned forward as Luke lifted her veil and kissed her as if she were the only woman on earth.

This double ceremony had been Katie’s idea, and now, as she felt her heart flutter and broke off the embrace, she grinned broadly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the preacher announced, “I give to you Mr. and Mrs. Luke Gates and Mr. and Mrs. J.D. Santini.”

Katie slid a glance in Tiffany’s direction and was rewarded with a smile. This is the way it should always be, she thought, with Bliss as their maid of honor, Christina as their flower girl, and their sons, as well as John Cawthorne, giving them away.

She’d thought Luke would balk at the idea when she’d first suggested it, but he’d agreed, happy to finally be part of a family. Even Tiffany, at first resistant, had gotten caught up in the extravaganza. As the organist began to play, Katie, holding Luke’s arm, walked down the aisle. Between the sprays of flowers and the candles, she saw the faces of the townspeople she’d known all her life. Her mother was crying, of course, and John Cawthorne was sniffing loudly. Octavia, Tiffany’s grandmother, beamed. She’d been reunited with her cat—the result of a woman, who’d bought the Persian years ago, reading Katie’s article on the Nesbitt burglary, which was picked up by a paper in Portland. Brynnie and John were considering moving into the apartment house, while Katie, Luke and Josh would take up residence at Luke’s ranch.

It seemed fitting, somehow, that Josh would live in the very spot where his father had lived.

Outside, the late-October sun was gilding trees already starting to turn with the coming winter. Katie imagined being snowbound with Luke at the ranch, sleeping in the room with the river-rock fireplace, watching as his dream unfolded, and the ranch was up and running. She would still write, of course, but she thrilled at the thought of spending her days and nights with the man she loved.

The two brides and grooms formed a reception line, and Katie accepted kisses, hugs and handshakes from friends, neighbors and relatives. Ralph and Loretta Sorenson had met Josh and had stayed for the nuptials. Even Rose Nesbitt had stood proudly and watched Tiffany marry, though, Katie decided, it would be a cold day in Hades before Rose would ever say a kind word to John Cawthorne.

But time could take care of a lot of the pain.

“It was a great wedding,” Bliss said as the line dwindled, and she stood between her two half sisters.

“The best,” Dee Dee said.

“Oh, I can think of a better one.” Mason winked at his wife.

J.D. laughed and kissed Tiffany again. Luke’s arm surrounded Katie’s waist. “I wouldn’t trade this one for the world,” he whispered into her ear. “Now, can we go somewhere private?”

“Soon,” Katie whispered back.

“Not good enough, wife.” Not waiting for another second, Luke pulled her behind a thick laurel hedge, and, holding her face between his two callused hands, he looked deep into her eyes, then kissed her as if he never intended to stop. Because he didn’t.

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