Page 57 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
That evening, there was a silent understanding that connected us. I couldn’t even tell you what. But, from that day forth, he went from becoming not just my boss, but a friend. I hadn’t really had one of those in a long time. I’ve kept myself so locked away, my only purpose and focus was getting my girls back. Violet encouraged this, of course, with utter glee. My boss’s brother was her best friend’s guy, so I saw what those two were plotting.
It’s simple, our wedding today. Intimate. Just us, the bride and groom, the girls, Ivy, her guy, Nash Hunter, Grayson and his girl with the striking red hair who used to live in the city, Vi’s dad…and now, my mom.
I text Violet.
Hudson: Hey Goldie. Someone’s been busy plotting, I see.
Two seconds later, she’s already responding.
Goldie: What ever do you mean?
Smiling, I have to hold myself back from marching to the guesthouse and stealing her away to our honeymoon already.
Hudson: I love you. No words are sufficient.
Goldie: You happy?
Hudson: More than I deserve, I might explode from it.
Goldie: We deserve all the happiness. I can’t wait to see you.
Hudson: Might want to send the girls over first. Gotta introduce them to their grandma.
My chest is heavy, wondering if the girls won’t be happy. Will they be uncomfortable, needing to adjust to this new family member? Will their reaction hurt my mother?
Goldie: I hear you thinking over there. Remember that night we showed them a picture and told them stories about how brave and strong your mom was and still is? I knew they’d come face-to-face with her today. And they’re going to love her.
I chuckle, shaking my head.
Hudson: You never cease to amaze me, Goldie. Hurry up so I can remarry you.
She sends a laughing and kissing emoji.
Goldie: Ivy’s driving them over. See you soon, Husband.
Ten minutes later, all worries evaporate as the girls spot Ma immediately. I know my wife prepared them beforehand. Lucy squeals, “Gran-gran!” as all three hurry to run into my mother’s arms. Her face is astonished, but bleeds immediately to maternal love as she envelopes my daughters in her arms.
Damn tears.
I harshly rub my eyes, begging the emotions to calm the fuck down, then clear my throat.
I’m in awe watching them create an instant bond, and I must have stood watching longer than I thought because music begins to softly play from the cello player. I straighten up and face the aisle. My breath stutters as my heart stops.
The wind blows lightly her veil, hooked in her intricate updo of braids, no doubt Angie had a hand in doing. She’s wearing her golden hair longer now. Soft, curled tendrils dance around her angelic face on this Valentine’s Day afternoon. I didn’t want to wait long to have our proper wedding with our entire family, as one. She joked next Valentine’s. I convinced her this coming February in ways we both thoroughly enjoyed that night.
Her off-white dress hugs her generous curves perfectly. Long lace sleeves, shoulders bare for my lips, and a long train follows behind as her father walks her down to me. I get to be that enchanting, loving, strong, smart, and amazing woman’s husband. How the hell did I get this lucky?
Sandford wanted to be here, but he had an important client meeting, but sent over an extravagant basket that awaits us at the mountain cabin he insisted was his wedding gift for our honeymoon.
His incessant teasing of how he was right to put that mail-order bride ad out has been insufferable. I’ll never admit it to him, but I owe him everything. For my daughters. For Violet.
Her peach, plump lips are stained in a deep wine color that makes them look plumper. I want to suck that bottom lip.
Her smile rivals the sun. “Hi,” she whispers.
“Breathtaking,” I tell her.
Her cheeks flush in that way I know travels lower. “You’re mouthwatering,” she grins.
