Page 69 of That Reilly Boy
“If I could get everybody’s attention,” I say, broadcasting across the crowd with my boardroom voice. It works and everybody quiets. “First, I want to thank everybody for coming. It means a lot to us. And we hope you’re all having a good time, but I think it’s about time I get to dance with my wife.”
My wife.
The pleasure of saying those words out loud is still pulsing through me when I find Cara in the crowd. Her eyes widen slightly, but she’s smiling as she makes her way to the gazebo at the urging of the guests closest to her.
When she reaches the top of the stairs, I reach out and something deep in my soul sighs with contentment as she slides her hand into mine. And thanks to the crowd watching us, I don’t have to mask what I’m feeling when I slide my hand around her waist and pull her close.
The song begins and, thanks to the speakers being on the gazebo with us, it’s loud. But Cara laughs and leans into me as I lead her in circles. I’m careful to keep us away from the steps, while also staying within the flower-framed opening for the photos everybody’s taking.
“I think this is the last thing on our reception checklist,” I say. My cheek’s practically pressed against hers in order to be heard, but I don’t mind. “Especially since we already ate the cake.”
“Daisy talked me into doing the cake early.”
“She’s hard to resist.”
“She made a compelling argument. For one, she’s been taught some strong opinions about food sitting outside. But mostly, she argued that eating cake would give us all energy and put everybody in a good mood.”
I laugh, able to picture those words coming out of my niece’s mouth so clearly. “Like alcohol, but fun for all ages.”
“Exactly.” She rests her forehead against my shoulder. “Is it just me, or is this a very long song?”
It’s just her. As far as I’m concerned, it can’t go on long enough. She’s in my arms and if the music is the only reason why, I don’t want the song to end.
“How are you holding up?” I ask, because she does sound tired.
“I’m running out of gas,” she admits. “I know weddings are a lot for any bride, but having to watch everything I say and do—right down to being constantly aware of my facial expressions—is exhausting.”
“We’ll start working our way through the guests to say our goodbyes, then.”
She laughs. “It’s a little early for that. There’s going to be a lot of cleanup.”
“That’s being taken care of.”
“Of course it is. Are we going to tell our friends and family we have to get home to your dog?”
“I do miss Penny, but I don’t intend to tell our friends and family anything. I couldn’t wait to get you to the altar, so they’ll assume I can’t wait to get home for our wedding night.”
She blushes and buries her face in my shoulder to hide it. My pulse quickens, and it takes every bit of self-control I can muster to not tighten my hold on her.
I’m taking Cara home with me. She’s going to be in my home—in my world—for the weekend. I know it’s all for appearances, but we’re getting out of this town.
Together.
Chapter Forty-Two
Cara
The journey from being Cara Gamble—struggling to tread water while keeping my mother, our home, and my business afloat—to being Mrs. Hayden Reilly, standing in a shiny penthouse apartment in Boston, doesn’t feel real.
Because it’s not real, I guess.
Even the apartment doesn’t feel real. The private parking garage. The elevator. The very open floor plan and perfectly coordinated—if a little boring—neutral decor. Honestly, it feels like what I imagine a high-end hotel would feel like, but I can’t be sure because I’ve never stayed in one. The only motels I’ve ever stayed in had two stars and questionable bathrooms.
I’d expected walking into Hayden’s home to be awkward after all the forced intimacy of going through the wedding motions, but I underestimated how happy Penny would be to see me. Her joyful spinning and yapping makes me laugh, and Hayden’s mock hurt at his dog cutting their greeting short so she can welcome me makes me laugh.
Once Penny has sufficiently welcomed me and gone to sniff the bags Hayden set by the door, I look around the space he calls home. At first glance, the apartment had seemed impersonal, but now I notice the small pieces of his life on display.
Most of the photos on the wall are candid shots of Daisy and AJ over the years. There are a few framed Christmas photo cards that include Aaron and Hope. The largest frame holds a wedding photo, and it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s Colleen and John Reilly. I want to take a closer look, but I’m aware Hayden is watching me, so I mind my own business. For now.
