Page 104 of Where the Roses Bloom
That was all she needed to say; Silas wasn’t one to give much more than that.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “And it fits her right?”
“Sure does,” June said. “And I’ve officiated a lot of weddings, Rhett…but I’ve never seen a bride look quite the way Willow does right now.”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah?”
June grinned. “You better get out there before she changes her mind.”
Milo bumped into my leg, tail thumping. Beau appeared right beside him, leaning down to scratch his ears. “You ready, best man?”
“Technically,” June said, “he’s the flower retriever.”
“Even better,” I laughed, trying to tamp down my nerves.
The screen door creaked open behind me, and sunlight poured across the floor like a river of gold. June stepped out first, soft and stately, catching the crowd’s attention. Milo trotted after her with his wreath and his usual optimism, earning a fewawws from the guests.
And I—heart hammering in my chest—followed them into the yard, onto a path lined with rose petals.
Waiting for her.
CHAPTER 36
Willow
The airaround me shimmered like heat rising from pavement…but it wasn’t hot. And there was no pavement.
No…this was something else.
I stood just inside the back door of the Ward house, my heart thudding in my chest, hands curled around a bouquet of roses—roses that had bloomed entirely out of season, of course. I could hear fiddle music drifting up from the lawn, voices murmuring, chairs creaking. June’s voice, low and steady, as she welcomed the crowd.
I wasn’t nervous about marrying Rhett—that was thelast thingI was worried about. Marrying Rhett felt as natural as breathing, like it was supposed to be happening. Marrying Rhett made sense.
What didn’t make sense was the shimmer in the air.
The voices in my head.
Voices that told me I didn’t deserve this, that I wasn’t desirable, that no one would ever want to claim me as theirs.
“Too late,” I whispered to the air. “He already did.”
“Hm?” Delilah asked, fiddling with the lavender she’dwoven into her red hair. She was fully decked out in purple, wearing a floral print wrap dress that fluttered around her ankles, no shoes.
Jasmine looked up too, pausing in the process of pinning a stray curl behind my ear. “You okay?”
I nodded, gulping down my fear. “Yeah…just talking to ghosts.”
Neither of them laughed; we all knew it wasn’t a laughing matter. Delilah glanced toward the hallway, scowling.
“This house is full of ‘em,” she said. “But I promise you, the vast majority of them want you happy…so fuck the ones who don’t.”
I smiled at her. “Damn right.”
The back door creaked open…and I saw the last person I’d expected, once again.
Silas.
He stood there in the sunset light, solemn, sad. He wore the same linen shirt he’d arrived in earlier, but now it was tucked in neat, his hair combed into a bun at the crown of his head. He looked clean, but…damn it, so, so sad. Still grieving.
