I know Cal’s looking forward to the upcoming cases against Russell King and the other men on the videos that got leaked to the press last year. Personally, I’m just glad that Kenzie and I have already done our part.
“You okay, Hollywood?”
I shake off the memories of the trials and pivot in my chair. Somehow, Austin managed to transform his main bedroom into a dressing room for me and my co-maids of honor, complete with a huge vanity, multiple mirrors, and racks for hanging all our clothes.
“I’m fine,” I say to Kenzie, “just a little nervous. You know I hate being the center of attention.”
She takes my hand. “A lot of people are going to be looking at you today, because it’s your day, and you’re beautiful. But I’m going to be with you every step of the way, and so is Teagan and Cal.”
I smile. Kenzie looks drop-dead gorgeous in her strapless sweetheart dress. She’s doing a lot better now that the trials are over, though I sometimes hear her crying at night through her bedroom door in our new house.
Teagan raps her knuckles on the doorframe and pokes her head into the dressing room.
“Are we almost ready?” she asks.
As my co-maids of honor, I asked Kenzie and Teagan to pick out their own dresses in the same shade of pink. Teagan was especially grateful for the flexibility, considering she’s about to pop out a baby sister for Joey. She could quite literally go into labor on her way down the aisle.
“I think so,” Kenzie says.
I take one last look at myself in the full-length mirror, at the layers of lace and chiffon. Teagan starts to cry.
“Sorry,” Teagan says, dabbing her eyes. “Pregnancy hormones. You look like a fairy princess.”
I pull her into a side hug. “Don’t cry too hard, or I’ll have to re-do your makeup.”
The three of us head downstairs together and make our way to the tent that’s been set up for the ceremony. It’s a beautiful summer day with only a few clouds. Not too breezy or hot. We take our places behind a canvas wall as classical music starts to play. Teagan’s the first to walk, followed by Kenzie, who squeezes my hand before she steps out.
“You’re going to do great,” she whispers.
I take a deep breath to steady my heartbeat, then step out from behind the wall. Cal stands at the front of the aisle instead of down by the altar.
We both agreed it made sense for him to walk me down the aisle.
After all, he’s not just my fiancé.
He’s also my daddy.
I take my first step toward my future husband, who offers me his hand. I wrap my fingers around his arm, gazing into his eyes instead of scanning the crowd. I’m better about big events than I used to be, but socialization still tires me out. Thankfully, if I ever find myself feeling overwhelmed, all I have to do is send a text or reach out my hand, and Daddy’s there in a heartbeat.
By the time we make it to the altar, we’ve both got tears in our eyes and smiles on our faces. I’m so lost in the depth of Cal’s warm gaze that I barely hear the preacher’s words.
My fiancé’s hand tightens around mine.
“I do,” Cal says.
The preacher turns to me. “And, do you, Holly Clarke, take Caleb Larkin to be your husband...”
I can’t think of anything I want more than to marry this man. To celebrate this love, and officially start our life together.
“I do,” I say when prompted.
We kiss. The crowd erupts. Our song, “Lucky Ones” by Lana Del Rey, plays as we walk hand-in-hand, as husband and wife, down the aisle.
I’m so full of butterflies, I swear I could float away and take Cal with me.
After the photographer finishes taking our pictures at a few pretty spots on the property, Cal brings me back to the house so I can change into a more comfortable dress for the reception.
I didn’t expect him to follow me upstairs into the dressing room. Suddenly, his warm smile darkens like storm clouds, revealing his true intentions. A full-body flush roars through me as he closes the door and flips the lock.
“Let Daddy help you out of that gorgeous gown,” he says.
“Okay.” I wet my lips and turn to face the wall. He takes his time undoing my buttons, kissing his way down my back as he goes.
Finally, he eases my dress down my body and tells me to step out. I stand before my husband, wearing only a pair of white lace panties, a lacy garter belt, and three-inch heels.
Cal’s gaze drips over me like warm syrup. His mouth curves into a devilish grin, making my nipples stiffen. His demon is particularly partial to my breasts, and I’m always happy to offer them up to him.