Page 111 of Ardently Yours

“It’s a honor to meet you, matey,” she growls, then she throws herself at him, not even checking to see if he’s ready to catch her first. He does—of course—and tucks her against his chest as he kisses her little blonde head. Then he wraps me in his other arm.

When he squeezes his eyes closed again, I reach up to wipe the wetness from his face for him.

Arden clears his throat. “We’re never telling a soul you had to do that.”

“Not even Reese?”

“Especially not Reese.”

I laugh. “Let’s go find the boys.”

He nods, then looks into my eyes, expression intense and unwavering. “I’m going to love you so hard, Charlotte Miller.”

“You already do.” My lips quirk. “Is it going to be difficult for you to remember to call me McRae after we’re married?”

“Not even a little. All I have to do is practice.” His lips meet mine. “Mrs. McRae.”

The Promise

Charlotte

June 26, 1999

The limo pulls upin front of the stone walkway to the little Italian church. Dad, dressed in his black tux, doesn’t wait for the driver to open the door. He steps out of the car and into the sunshine, then reaches out a weathered hand for me. I swallow the emotion that rises, and he smiles, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Let’s get ‘er done,” he says.

I put my palm in his and climb from the car.

Teresa and Rochelle join me in their mint green dresses. Bronnie and her cousins wear gowns that are a modified miniature version of mine. The three girls carry white baskets of pink rose petals. Bronnie’s been practicing sprinkling those petals for a week.

“Do you have the rings, Gabriel?” Dad asks.

Gabriel puffs out his chest and lifts the silk pillow. “I have them, Grandad.”

Dad nods. “I’m real proud of you, son.”

Gabriel beams, and I kiss his temple.

Teresa fluffs my veil. Rochelle passes me my flowers.

Mom is already waiting inside, along with the rest of our families.

Rochelle cups my face and wrinkles her nose in a smile that rides the line between joy and tears. I wrinkle mine back and nod.

I tuck my hand in Dad’s arm.

We make our way through the ancient wooden doors and into the tiny church.

Arden stands at the end of the aisle, hands folded, and wearing that beautiful smile on his face.

Henry stands beside his father, his hands folded exactly the same way. Beside him, Reese, Max, and Marcus Harcourt stand in a line.

A quartet plays, and, one at a time, my bridesmaids and flower girls march down the aisle. Gabriel holds his pillow carefully as he walks toward his father. Bronnie is the last. She starts out exactly as we practiced. Step-together. Step-together. But halfway down the aisle, she must notice Arden because she squeals, “Daddy!” and takes off running for him.

Our families chuckle. The priest in his white raiment smiles. Arden scoops her into his arms, smacks a kiss on her cheek, and whispers something in her ear. She giggles, then runs to sit with Mom in the front row.

Arden straightens and swallows hard as Dad and I come fully into view. Arden’s hand comes to his heart, and he makes eye contact, tipping his head to the side.

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