Page 124 of Six Month Wife
The door swings open, and everything stops.
Well, not everything. The string quartet’s doing a slowed-down cover of “Shut Up and Dance,” because I’m still me. We can't be all stuffy.
My brain short-circuits the second I step into view.
Dozens of faces turn. Some teary, some smiling, all watching. Bets, Hattie, Samual Taylor. I spot Cam’s husband holding their baby near the front.
The aisle is lined with low florals and flickering votives, the scent of jasmine and citrus filling the air. A breeze sneaks through the open balcony doors behind the altar, ruffling the gauzy drape of my veil.
Cam glances over, his arm steady under mine. “You're stunning. Let’s do this.”
I nod, but my throat’s too tight to speak.
He smirks. “You’re not allowed to faint. You’d crush the dress and destroy your brand. Very bad PR.”
That earns a huff-laugh from me. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Extremely. But also, you look like you’re about to fly.” His voice drops. “Let’s get you home.”
The music shifts, a beat of silence between verses, and we take our first step.
The marble tiles echo under my bedazzled sneakers that are hiding under my floor-length gown. Each step forward is weightless and grounded all at once.
I keep my eyes locked on the man at the end of the aisle. Parker stands tall with his hands clasped in front of him. His stone-colored suit and crisp white shirt accentuate his blue eyes.
The clean shave and that look, like I’m the only thing that exists in the whole damn room, makes every fiber in my body go into overdrive.
Halfway down, I see it—the small quirk of his mouth. The dimple in his chin. The soft gleam in his eyes says he’s not just ready. It says he’s mine.
He’s always been mine.
This dress, the aisle, and the flowers are just the part where everyone else catches up.
Cam leans in as we approach and whispers in my ear. “Want me to say something emotional or crack a joke?”
“Definitely a joke.”
He leans close, voice low, while we walk. “If he pulls out another contract, I’ll demand a signing bonus on your behalf.”
I snort, the sound echoing off the tall ceilings and making a few guests in the front row smile.
Jenna, standing tall at the altar in a deep green slip dress, dabs under one eye with all the grace of a bulldozer.
When we reach the rest of the wedding party, Cam stands with me, his arm still locked in mine.
The officiant smiles and asks, “Who gives this woman to be married today?”
Cam looks at me, his voice steady. “I do, with honor.”
He presses a kiss to my cheek and murmurs just for me, “Proud of you.”
Then he steps back, taking his seat with his family, and I’m left facing the only man who’s ever made me believe in forever.
Parker’s voice dips low as I reach him. “This beats the courthouse, huh?”
I arch a brow. “Fewer filing cabinets.”
He grins. “Better lighting. Same beautiful bride, though.”
