Page 201 of Beat of Love
It was a moment suspended — still, sacred, and bittersweet.
A moment to acknowledge his last regret.
“I owe you an apology, Charlie love,” Rafferty murmured, voice rough with remorse. “You loved me with your whole heart — pure, unwavering, without condition. And I didn’t deserve an ounce of it.”
His breath hitched. The mist curled around him like a memory. “You paid the price for my actions. A fatal one. And that’s a regret I’ll carry with me until my last breath.
“I’m getting married today. To Brandy-Lyn,” he said softly, his gaze resting on the mist curling over the lake. “I never told you about her — probably because, when I met her, the pull of her … it was wrong. And maybe you would’ve seen through all my bluster, all my denials, and known the truth — that another woman held a small piece of my heart. A heart that should’ve been yours. Fully. Completely.”
He exhaled slowly, a breath that had felt trapped in his chest for years.
“I didn’t know how to be the man you were worthy of, and somehow, even after all this time, I still carry the weight of falling short — of not being that man.”
He swallowed, voice thick.
“But today …now… I need to let go of that regret. I need to walk into this marriage with your blessing. I know I haven’t earned it — but I’m asking anyway.”
He stood there, waiting.
Though for what, he didn’t know.
A sign. A hint of a breeze.
A heavenly choir, maybe.
Even a fucking ray of sunshine would’ve been nice.
But the lake stayed quiet. The mist held its breath.
He swallowed his disappointment and walked away.
*
Brandy-Lyn stood still, staring at her reflection one last time. The dress clung like it had been stitched by moonlight and magic.
A gift from her (almost) sister-in-law, the gown was pure Edwardian elegance. The soft ivory silk hugged her torso in a fitted bodice that flared into full-length A-line skirt. The neckline rose in a delicate scoop, sheer tulle embroidered with intricate silver filigree, clear crystal beading, and tiny seed pearls that shimmered like morning dew. Sheer beaded fabric covered her arms, ending in vintage lace cuffs.
But beneath all that refinement, she wore her well-worn boots, the leather scuffed, the stitching faint from years of sun and dust. The gown’s hem swayed gently around them, an unspoken rebellion against convention — and a testament to exactly who she was.
Her vivid hair was swept into a loose twist, strands left artfully undone to frame her face. Hairpins — shaped like tiny silver leaves and dotted with pearls and beads — caught the light as she moved, echoing the embroidery of her gown. It was as if the beadwork had grown from her, delicate vines winding from her skin into silk.
Still … something tugged at her.
She smoothed her hands down the front of the gown, more to ground herself than to fix anything. “He’s been different the past few days,” she murmured.
Jackie, pushing a loosened hairpin back into place, raised a brow. “Different how?”
She hesitated. “Quiet. Not cold. Just … somewhere else. Like there’s this shadow trailing him.”
“He loves you. That much is obvious. But with Rafferty … maybe there will always be a bit of dark lurking around him.”
Brandy met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “I know. But today is supposed to be about beginnings. Clean slates. And I just … I keep wondering if he’s truly left the past behind.”
Jackie stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Once you step out there, surrounded by people who love you, and you see him waiting for you — really see him — I think everything else will fall away.”
Her throat tightened, but she nodded.
Jackie gave a small smile. “He’s yours, Brandy. Fully. Messily. Completely. And you” — she glanced down, grinning at the boots peeking out beneath the gown— “you’re exactly what he needs.”
