Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
I was done with love and all the trouble that came with it.
Then Margot streaked into my life like a comet, and it’s been one hell of a ride ever since.
And I wouldn’t change a single damn thing.
I just think what kind of romantic clown I’ve become, knowing her and wanting to make her happy to the letter of the law.
The man I was a year ago would’ve called me whipped.
The man I was ten years ago wasn’t half the man I am now.
Now, that last missing piece falls into place, and I’ve met the man I was meant to be.
“Should we head up?” I say, and she nods, this time being the one to take my hand and lead me upstairs into the grey, washed-out light of the day.
It’s clouded over, the sky threatening more snow tonight. The wind whips her hair across her face.
“We should tell them,” she says, but I just point over her shoulder.
While we were down there, the kids’ snowman making competition turned into something a little more elaborate.
I don’t know who wins—Dan’s depiction of me with a large carrot stuck in my face—or Sophie’s Margot, with branchy arms dragging on the ground.
Neither of them are world-class artists yet.
But they also grabbed our clothes.
The snowman has my hat, and Margot’s scarf is wrapped around ‘Margot’s’ neck. The snow woman has bright-red berries for a mouth, pressed into a heart shape. Dan even scrubbed some shredded bark onto my snowman’s chin for stubble.
I scratch my short beard with a smile.
“Congratulations!” Sophie screams, right before cannonballing herself at Margot.
Margot looks at me helplessly as she’s practically tackled to the ground by two small kids. “Did you tell them before we—”
“No,” I say, wrapping my arms around them from behind. Sophie squeals with laughter, and Dan makes a noise a bit like a chicken. “But I guess I let something slip to Dan.”
“I knew the whole time, Dad!” he says smugly. “I figured he was going to ask you to marry him. Sophie said you’d say yes because you love him and you already live with us, so why not? It just makes sense!”
And it does.
Margot laughs. She tips her head back and laughs at the sky so hard the tears roll down her face.
“What?” Dan asks anxiously. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, Bud,” I say, holding my family tighter. “Nothing you could say right now could ever ruin this.”
27
NO PLACE LIKE (MARGOT)
Three Months Later
Ithought the proposal would always be the happiest day of my life—and I was wrong.
Nothing on God’s green earth will ever beat our wedding day.
We spent the winter renovating the lake house, bringing in contractors for the big stuff and doing the little fixes ourselves, slowly making it into a home.
Our home.
A special family place like PopPop always wanted.
No, we can’t settle in permanently with the kids going to school in New York and both of us taking frequent business trips. We’ve been to LA more times than I can count over the past few months while fashionistas and tech savvy marketers planned out how to launch Orthique into orbit.
Sure, I’m endlessly grateful for the shoe dream becoming a reality, but it has nothing on becoming Mrs. Kane Saint.
And just like Ethan, I have Gramps’ whimsy to thank for that.
What better way to honor him than by making the old house into a stunning new place worthy of becoming our home base?
For real.
I don’t know how to process being this happy.
It feels wrong.
Like I can’t possibly keep smiling this much without some big, scary thing coming around the corner to crash the vibe.
Today, though, that scary thing is just me standing in front of a hundred people and hoping I can get my heart out in the vows we’ve rehearsed before I seize up.
Hattie adjusts the pale-blue dress she’s wearing. Who else would be my maid of honor?
If I wasn’t the bride, I might say she outshines me in the sleek satin, all her curves on display.
“Okay, here we go.” Hattie brushes my dress down, making sure there are no flaws. “Ready to walk the aisle, princess?”
“Hattie. I’m not five.”
“It’s your wedding day! Every girl’s entitled to the royal treatment,” she says firmly and unhooks the dress from where it’s resting on the closet door.
“You heard the lady. Everyone’s a princess.” My little cousin, Cleo, nods from the corner, slouched in a chair with her massive sketchpad. “Them’s the rules and I don’t make them.”
“Just wait for your wedding day, Clee. You’ll love the rules I make up then.”
“Oh, no.” She flushes and shakes her head like the shy little art geek she is. “I’ll let you and Ethan have all the fun. I don’t need that much crazy in my life.”
I shoot Hattie a knowing look.
“You haven’t chatted up Jackie Wilkes about the will yet, have you?”