Page 108 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
"Mom! Dad needs the big spatula for the burgers. And Mr. Morales wants to know if we have any mustard that isn't yellow."
"Dijon in the fridge," I said, ruffling her hair. "And tell your dad the big spatula is in the drawer by the stove."
She disappeared back outside, and I found myself smiling at her boundless energy. These past few weeks had been transformative for her too. The constant tension in the house had lifted, and she'd started acting more her age instead of carrying worries that belonged to adults.
"She adores you," Caroline said.
"The feeling is mutual."
"Harrison too. He looks at you the way our father looked at our mother before she got sick. Like you're the center of his world."
Heat crept up my neck at the observation, but before I could deflect, voices drifted in from the back yard. Harrison was calling for everyone's attention.
We moved outside where guests had gathered in a loose circle around the patio. Harrison stood near the grill, holding a beer and looking slightly uncomfortable with the attention but determined to push through.
"I wanted to thank everyone for coming today," he began, his voice carrying easily across the yard. "This year has been… challenging, to put it mildly. But having all of you here, seeing the support for our family and for Hawthorne—it means everything."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"I've learned a lot about second chances lately," he continued, his eyes finding mine across the patio. "About forgiveness, and family, and what really matters when everything else falls away."
He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts.
"Most of all, I've learned that sometimes the best things happen when you're not planning them." His gaze moved to Eloise, then back to me. "So thank you for being here, for supporting us, and for giving a stubborn man the chance to figure out what happiness actually looks like."
He raised his beer, and everyone followed suit with whatever drinks they were holding.
"To second chances," he said simply.
"To second chances," the crowd echoed.
As people began to disperse back into smaller conversations, Harrison made his way over to me. He kissed my temple softly, his hand finding the small of my back in that familiar, possessive way that made my stomach flutter.
"Nice speech," I murmured against his ear.
"I meant every word."
The party continued around us, but gradually, people began to filter home as the afternoon stretched into evening. Board members made their polite goodbyes, promising to see Harrison at the next meeting. Faculty members hugged Eloise and told me how glad they were that everything had worked out.
By seven o'clock, only a few remained. Juan was teaching Eloise card tricks at the picnic table while my mother dozed in her chair, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been held at bay all day. Caroline was gathering empty plates, moving through the yard, determined to help however she could.
I found Harrison in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, finishing the last of the dishes. The sight of him there—domestic and content—still caught me off guard sometimes.
"You don't have to do those," I said, moving to stand beside him at the sink. "Caroline and I can finish up."
"Almost done." He rinsed the final plate and set it in the drying rack, then turned to face me, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."
My stomach clenched automatically. After months of legal drama, the phrase 'I want to talk' still triggered my anxiety.
"Is everything okay?"
"Everything's perfect." He smiled, reaching for my hands. "But I've been thinking about something, and I wanted to run it by you."
"Okay…"
"I want to give you a real wedding."
I blinked, certain I'd misheard. "What?"
