Page 80 of Hearts Don't Lie
One Month Later…
Waiting to enter the large meadow filled with long grass and yellow wildflowers, surrounded by forest, the peaks of the Taurus Range soaring in the distance, Mac reflected on how much her life had changed in six short weeks. It had been a whirlwind since Hardin had shown up in Piñon Ridge. Stowe had his father. She and Hardin had each other, their love stronger and deeper than it had been in high school. They were a family.
Hardin had retired under just cause with the promise of attending the club’s biggest match in their home stadium this fall in Spain, where he would be formally recognized and officially retire. She and Stowe would be with him, and they were thrilled to experience just annth of what Hardin was to his club, teammates, and fans and to spend some time in Spain.
He was pursuing a business venture in nearby Gambol and had purchased not only the house she rented—the only home their son had ever known—but an adorable small bungalow nearby for Carol, who was moving to Piñon Ridge.
With Stowe, she and Hardin had an appointment with a judge in a few days to legally change their son’s name, making Eliot his middle name and Ambrose his last and adding Hardin as his father on his birth certificate. Later in the week, she and Hardin were meeting with an architect to begin drafting plans to renovate their home.
Life was good and oh so precious.
She had wanted simple. That’s how she and Hardin had begun.
Teenagers. A soccer match. Ice cream. A long meandering conversation that went throughout dinner and most of the evening, recognizing they both pursued being valued for who they were.
Friends. Best friends. Eventually lovers.
She glanced at her engagement ring—a simple band of small diamonds set in platinum. Hardin could have and would have bought her anything, but that was what she chose. Understated. Refined.
Mac felt like a fairy woodland princess in her exquisite dress. Hardin had encouraged her to work with a designer, and the result was a dress that was beyond anything she could have imagined. She had blubbered when she’d worn it for the first time to have it fitted. It was an A-line princess cut, sleeveless and off the shoulders, in ivory. The skirt was a dreamy gossamer combination of layers upon layers of chiffon in different raw-edged lengths; the effect was airy and flowing, and the short train caressed the ground as she walked. The bodice was delicately embroidered in blush, the palest green and purple, and tiny seed pearls.
Mac wore crystal-and-seeded-pearl barefoot sandals, loving the look while embracing the freedom of not wearing shoes for the ceremony. The thistle necklace Hardin had given her the night Stowe was conceived hung from her neck. Something old. Matching thistle earrings, made of platinum, diamonds, and amethysts, completed her wedding jewelry. Hardin’s wedding gift to her. Something new.
A vintage hair vine of crystals and opals and seed pearls decorated her thick, wavy auburn hair, which Cori had artfully woven into a loose knot. Something borrowed, from Issa. She held a bouquet of sweet peas, blush ruffled garden roses, sunflowers, jasmine, fern, and blue thistle. Something blue and lovingly arranged by Carol.
Mac’s heart fluttered wildly as the string quartet began to play. The musicians were dressed in black formalwear but barefoot, as were Hardin, Stowe, and the rest of the wedding party.
The sun was descending. The clouds hung at multiple altitudes, enhancing their textures and vibrant kaleidoscope of shifting color, bathing the ceremony in a soft explosion of gold and orange light.
At the arbor, covered in twisting green vines and the same flowers she carried, Mike and Arlo flanked Hardin, who fidgeted nervously. They all wore black tie, as did Stowe at her side since he was giving her away. It was perfect that the love of her life was to give her in marriage to her forever love, his father. Stowe was also charged with the rings.
The minister stood next to Hardin in the center of the arbor and nodded to the bridesmaids when the quartet bridged into another song. It was time to begin. Cori, Kai, Emory, and Ronni all wore the same chiffon V-neck, spaghetti-strap long dress in colors reflecting the greens and blues in her bouquet.
Ronni went first, taking her time, walking the path Mac and Hardin had discovered when they were hunting for the perfect spot to say their vows. After she arrived at the arbor and turned, Kai followed, then Emory.
Cori turned to Mac and clasped her wrist. “I love you, Kenna. So much. I am honored to stand with you. Always.”
“I love you too,” she said, her throat burning with unshed tears.
Cori turned and headed toward the arbor.
Stowe wiped his eyes and said gruffly, “You’re so beautiful, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you more, you know.” She didn’t want to cry.
“Impossible,” he said, the grin and the impish expression he flashed her so much like Hardin’s. “Just in case you’re wondering, I still have the rings.”
“I knew you would.”
Cori reached the arbor and turned. There were a few beats of silence, and then the quartet played the first chords of “Anymore.”
Honorary family and closest friends focused on Mac, expectant and smiling, but they faded to the background as she zoomed in on Hardin, his face shining with joy.
Stowe offered her his elbow. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” she said hoarsely, blinking away her tears, certain her radiant smile matched that of her groom.
Mac glided toward him, the whispering breeze carrying the scent of pine and the warm earthy smell of ripe grasses and flowers. Her eyes never wavered from his.
