Page 21 of Curvy Girl and the Grumpy Cowboy

"Ready as I'll ever be," I tell him, taking a deep breath.

The past two years haven't always been easy. We've argued about schedules, about whose career takes priority on which days, about whether James should sleep in our room or the nursery. We've navigated the complex dance of blending our lives—my ranch responsibilities with her therapy center, my early mornings with her late nights working on grants and programming.

But we figured it out, together. No ultimatums, no all-or-nothing choices—just two people committed to making room for each other's dreams alongside their own.

"Time to head downstairs," Vincent announces, checking his own watch. "Guests are all seated."

I nod, taking James from Cole. My son stirs, blinking sleepily up at me with eyes so much like his mother's that it makes my chest ache.

"Hey, buddy," I whisper. "Ready to see Mama and Papa get married?"

He responds with a gummy smile that never fails to melt my heart.

Downstairs, the farmhouse has been transformed. The September weather cooperated, allowing us to hold the ceremony in the meadow behind the house, with the mountains as our backdrop. White chairs form neat rows on either side of an aisle strewn with wildflower petals. At the end stands a simple wooden arch that I built myself, covered now in the same wildflowers that grow across this land.

Pastor Mitchell waits beneath the arch, Bible in hand, smiling at me as I approach with James. Most of Cedar Falls has turned out for the occasion—over 200 people seated in those white chairs, every one of them having watched our story unfold these past two years.

The guests coo as I walk past with my son. Mrs. Abernathy dabs at her eyes already, while Doc Walker gives me a thumbs up. Even Mayor Henderson looks a bit misty-eyed, his wife clutching a handkerchief beside him.

I take my place beneath the arch, handing James to Elena, who sits in the front row with Charlotte and the rest of the family. My brothers line up beside me, Cole closest as my best man.

"Last chance to run," Ethan whispers, earning him an elbow from Aaron.

"Not a chance," I reply, eyes fixed on the farmhouse door where Sarah will appear any minute.

The string quartet—brought in from Bozeman at Vincent's insistence that "no brother of his was getting married to recorded music"—begins to play. Lucy emerges first, taking her flower girl duties extremely seriously as she carefully drops rose petals along the aisle.

The music shifts, and a collective intake of breath sweeps through the gathering.

And there she is.

Sarah stands in the doorway, her father beside her, radiant in a simple white dress that flows around her like water. Her hair is half-up, with small white flowers woven through the curls that fall around her shoulders.

She's not wearing a veil—"I want you to see me clearly when I walk to you," she insisted.

I'm suddenly grateful for her foresight, because I wouldn't want anything obscuring the vision before me. Sarah Matthews—soon to be Covington—is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Damn it. Aaron was right. I'm already blinking back tears.

She begins her walk down the aisle, her eyes finding mine immediately. The smile that blooms across her face is everything—joy and love and the promise of our future together.

"Breathe, brother," Cole murmurs, and I realize I've been holding my breath.

When Sarah reaches me, her father places her hand in mine with a nod of approval. Her fingers are warm and steady—there are no nerves, no hesitation.

"Hi," she whispers, her eyes shining.

"Hi yourself," I manage, my voice rough with emotion. "You're beautiful."

"So are you," she replies, her gaze taking in my tuxedo. "Who'd have thought Jackson Covington would clean up so nice?"

Pastor Mitchell clears his throat, but he's smiling at our exchange. "Dearly beloved..."

The ceremony passes in a blur. I repeat my vows in a voice steadier than I expected, promising to love, honor, and cherish this woman who gave me a second chance I didn't deserve. Sarah's voice is clear and strong as she makes the same promises, her eyes never leaving mine.

When it's time for the rings, Cole hands me the simple platinum band we chose together. It slides onto Sarah's finger like it was always meant to be there.

"By the power vested in me," Pastor Mitchell says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jackson, you may kiss your bride."

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