Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I groan. “Please tell me Dillon’s parents are still okay with all this.”
“Okay with it?” She snorts. “His mom keeps whispering that she always knew he’d never settle down with just one other person. Apparently, he’s always collected people he loves like stray cats. His dad just nods like she predicts the stock market on the regular.”
I chuckle. “They really are the sweetest.”
“Yeah, they are but Chance’s dad…” She trails off, lowering her voice as if he can hear us despite the walls. “He seems really intense.”
“He is. But he’s a former Marine too, and Chance’s childhood wasn’t exactly peaceful. They’ve been through a lot. I think Mr. McShane is still constantly calculating the possibility of this whole thing exploding.”
“And you’re okay with that?” she asks.
I shrug. “It’s a valid concern for a parent to have, and he’s not against our marriage. Once he saw how steady Chance is now and how much gentler he is with himself, I think it clicked that this might not be how he envisioned his son’s future but that his son is happy.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense,” Madison says. “He told me this morning that he’s grateful for anything that keeps his boy alive and here. I wasn’t sure what he meant.”
I nod. “I don’t think he’ll ever be the hearts-and-flowers type, but he’s here. He wants to be here. That matters.”
“What about Boone’s mom?” she asks gently. “I haven’t been able to get much of a read on her yet.”
Ah. Yes. Mrs. Callaghan.
“She’s…” I exhale slowly. “Let’s just say that she’s trying.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“No, she really is,” I say quickly. “She told me she supports Boone wanting to start over, that she respects that he’s choosing love, but she also says Tessa really messed him up and she needs time to learn how to trust me.”
“Wow, that’s honest,” Madison says. “Brutal, but honest.”
“I actually appreciate it,” I say. “I know she’ll come around. I can feel it. She hugged me when she arrived today. That felt like a win. The first time she visited last month, she barely said a word to me the entire weekend. I figure a hug and a chat mean we’ve made progress.”
Madison laughs. “Score one for Team Roxie.”
I wink at her, then turn back to the mirror as she glances out the window. Snow falls outside, dusting the mountains in white and making the entire valley feel like we’re inside a snow globe that’s been lovingly shaken.
“Are you ready?” she asks a moment later, her voice gentle now. “Because I made sure no one parked behind me. I can be the getaway driver if you need one.”
“You’re awesome. Thank you for thinking about it, but I won’t be needing your services behind the wheel today.” I place both hands over my very swollen belly, studying my reflection in the mirror for a moment.
I really do look like a marshmallow.
My hair is back to blonde, and I’m letting it grow out after cutting it short in an attempt to hide from Caruso’s men. At least that makes me feel like me again, but aside from my hair and my eyes, I don’t really look anything like me.
I feel swollen from head to toe, my belly as big as a beach ball already, and my face looks like I’ve been stung by a whole swarm of bees. Yet the guys make a point every day to tell me how beautiful I am and to show me how much they still want me.
In my entire life, I’ve never felt as loved or been as doted on as I do these days.
Madison watches me in the mirror’s reflection, smiling softly when my eyes meet hers again. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s do it,” I agree, and we leave the bedroom together, stepping into the hallway that’s been lined with candles in glass lanterns.
The soft hum of voices floats from the tent outside, the ceremony set to be small, cozy, and intimate. Madison squeezes my hand once more, then steps ahead to push open the back door.
Cold air rushes in, crisp and clean, but I barely even feel it because there, beneath the warm golden lights of the tent, stand my three men. Boone’s tie is perfectly straight, Dillon’s boutonniere is pinned slightly sideways, and Chance looks like he wants to tackle anyone who even thinks about getting too close to me.
My breath catches at the sight of them, each one in a suit that fits him like a glove and shows off every hard line of their bodies. Boone wears a tux, a full five-piece, pitch-black masterpiece that somehow manages to make him look even taller. His dark hair is neatly swept back from his face, those stormy eyes more intense than ever when his gaze meets mine.
A slight smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth, something that looks a lot like relief softening his features. A flush spreads across my cheeks because he’s looking at me like that in front of their families and the few friends we have in town.