Page 132 of Saving Grace

Tears swell, threatening to flow over with every step I take down the aisle.

“I’m so proud of you, Gracie,” Mama whispers as we close in on the end of the aisle. I glance at her. Tears have streaked down her face. She pats my hand, and we stop. “And I love you, always.” She scrunches up her face as if trying to stem the emotion.

I hug her tight. “I love you too, Mama.”

She releases me, and I turn back toward the preacher.

“Oh shoot,” Mama mutters, snatching the bouquet from my hand. Chuckles bubble up behind us. I step forward, my focus on the man in front of me. The angle of his jaw that feathers as I close the space to him. His eyes, like the furthest depths of the ocean, are now silver-lined and studying my face. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hey, sweet man.”

His mouth tips to a warm smile as his hands open and move between us, palms up. I slide my own into them and they close, thumbs tracing circles over my knuckles. “You ready?”

“Probably should have asked me before everyone got all dressed up.”

Another swell of chuckles.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“We can make a start?” the preacher man says, dipping his head.

“Fire away,” Mack says.

Fire away, indeed.Louisa gives me a wink that I catch in my peripheral. Everyone goes quiet as I shift my gaze to find the preacher looking at me, waiting.

I give him a nod, and he opens his book.

“We are gathered here today to witness the union in holy matrimony between Grace Elizabeth Weston and Mackinlay Samuel Rawlins...”

Sergeant moves under seat as I adjust the easel secured across my back. I double-check the clasps on the rolled-up tent and supplies I tied to the back of the saddle.

Clothes—check.

Paints and brushes—check.

Food for three days and nights—check.

Trigger and Mack trot up by our side, packs strapped behind his saddle.

Handsome-as-hell husband—check.

The black hat on his head tips as he leans over, planting a kiss on my cheek. My own hat bunts up my head. I went for a white Stetson like Hudson. Black has never been my thing. Plus, it’s such an awesome contrast with my long light brown hair. Everything in my life comes back to color. My work. My daydreams. The intoxicating deep blues of the love of my life’s eyes. Which are now full of cheek.

“What are you thinking, Mackinlay Rawlins?”

“Ah, nothin’, Gracie Rawlins.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You realize you are going to be bored out of your skull, watching me paint for three days straight holed up somewhere up there.” I point at the blue monster of a mountain we have aimed our horses at.

“Yup, and there is no way in this world I could ever get bored of staring at you, gorgeous.”

I pull a face at him and cluck Sergeant forward. We walk at a steady pace toward the mountains, through the wispy, waving green grasses of summer. The buzz, hum, and clicks of the insects in the warm sunshine fills the silence between us. I stare up at the mountain. I’ve traveled some tough terrain in the last few years. We both have. The hard work, blood, sweat, and tears were worth it. Because it led me here.

It gave me Mack.

And I would walk through hell over and over to have this sweet man by my side.

“Wanna lope?” he asks, still gazing ahead.

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