Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
It wasn’t exactly the same as having a hands-on dad every single day, but Elliott had “Grandpa Eugene” and Beckett in his life now, and I couldn’t have asked for more caring, patient role models. Elliott had asked if he could call Beckett ‘Dad,’ and Beckett had answered, “Sure.” He’d acted like it was no big deal, but I’d noticed him turn away and clear his throat. I’d burst into tears myself.
The weekend we made the move, Mr. Weaver’s new part-time caretaker had stayed at the ranch, and Beckett had come down to Cincinnati to help. We’d spent our first Christmas up here snowed in at the ranch and not minding one bit.
Elliott had started at my former elementary school in January, and he loved his first-grade teacher, Mr. O’Brien, almost as much as he loved that the bunk bedroom was now all his. We spent a weekend painting the walls pink and giving it a unicorn theme. Daisy came often to stay over, and the two of them were thick as thieves.
I’d found a part-time job at a pediatrics practice in town, which was perfect because it allowed me to spend some days at home too, helping to keep the house in order and Mr. Weaver safe and occupied. He had a caretaker on the days I worked, but he always told me he liked the days we had together the best.
We’d run errands, have lunch at Blair’s bakery, stroll the downtown streets if the weather was nice, and every day, he’d go out and meet Elliott when he got off the bus. Watching them walk back to the house together was adorable.
I had a family, just like I’d always dreamed about.
“Dad’s all ready for you downstairs,” Amy said. “And everyone’s here.”
“Are the guys already outside?” Blair asked.
Amy nodded. “Coast is clear.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath, and one last glance in the mirror. Suddenly I remembered the bride from the dress shop the day I’d attended Cheyenne’s final fitting, the day I’d bought the blue dress I’d worn to their wedding. I recalled looking at that radiantly happy bride wondering if I’d ever feel that excited—that hopeful—about love ever again.
Now I had my answer.
I turned around and smiled. “I’m ready.”
Mr. Weaver was sitting on the couch in the great room as I came down the stairs. He wore dress pants and his favorite sport coat from 1991, his white hair was freshly cut and neatly combed, and his white shirt and pink tie matched Beckett’s. All the guys were wearing pink ties today, in honor of Elliott—Beckett had let him choose the color. And while our wedding wasn’t really formal enough to have official bridesmaids and groomsmen, Beckett’s friends had insisted on wearing them too.
When he saw me, Mr. Weaver rose to his feet. “Well, look at you,” he said, smiling widely. “All grown up.”
I laughed as I reached the bottom of the stairs. His memory still played cruel tricks on him sometimes, but he knew who I was—“You’re Beckett’s Maddie,” he’d sometimes say, as if reminding himself. Occasionally he introduced me to people that way, and I never minded.
“All grown up,” I repeated.
“Turn around. Let me look at you.”
I obliged him, turning in a slow circle.
“Beautiful,” he said.
I smiled. “Thank you.”
Elliott and Daisy came bustling down the stairs, followed by Blair and Bianca, who moved slowly and carefully, gripping the handrail. “As much as I’d have loved standing up for you, I’m kind of glad you decided not to do bridesmaids,” Bianca said as she reached the bottom and waddled toward me. “I’d have looked like a giant pink blimp in a bridesmaid dress.”
“Same,” Blair said, pausing at the landing to wince and put a hand under her belly.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fine. I just need to go sit.” She came over and gave me a hug.
“Me too,” Bianca said apologetically, embracing me. “My stupid ankles are swollen.”
“That’s okay.” I smiled. “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you out there.”
Cheyenne hugged me too, and the four of us held hands for a moment. “I’m so happy,” Blair said, her eyes tearing up.
“Me too,” sniffled Bianca.
“Me three.” Cheyenne laughed, misty-eyed. “I keep thinking how our families are going to grow together, and our kids will be so close they’ll call each other cousins, and we’ll have so many things to celebrate—holidays and birthdays and vacations and old man baseball games.”
We laughed, and they headed outside to take their seats.
“You know what to do, Dad?” Amy asked, coming toward me with my flowers in her hand.
“I know what to do,” he insisted. “I just did it for your wedding a little bit ago.”
Amy, who’d been married for fifteen years, gave me a look as she handed me the small bouquet of roses in various shades of pink.
“We’re fine,” I assured her. “Honestly, there’s really no way to mess this up. We’re following Daisy and Elliott out onto the deck, down the steps, and over to the tree.”