“Hey you,” she whispers, stepping closer.
I take her hands in mine, lifting them to my lips before I can stop myself. “You’re…you’re so beautiful it’s actually unfair.”
She laughs, a soft breath that carries the weight of everything we’ve walked through. “You clean up nice too, Bennett.”
“Do you have any idea,” I murmur, my forehead tipping to rest against hers, “how long I’ve been waiting to call you mine?”
Her eyes close, a shimmer behind her lashes. “I do.”
And for just a heartbeat, I lose myself in what’s coming. Tonight. When it’s finally just us. No more waiting. No more holding back. Just the two of us—no barriers, no distance. I can already feel the weight of her in my arms, theway her laugh will sound in the quiet, the way she’ll look at me when it’s only us and the world fades away. God help me, I want that moment more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I’ll wait, only a few more hours.
Her breath brushes my lips, snapping me back to now.
“Technically…” she whispers, a spark of mischief and heat in her tone, “I’m not yours yet.”
Her gaze lifts to meet mine, full of promise and something that makes my knees a little weak. “You’ve still got to walk down that aisle. Say the words. Survive the reception…”
She leans in just enough to make sure I feel the weight of what comes next. “And then, Gray Bennett, I’m all yours.”
She pulls back just enough to flash me that smile—the one that undoes me every single time—and then she turns, lifting the hem of her dress slightly as she heads toward the garden path where Harper and Olivia wait at the edge of the aisle.
And I swear...I almost forget how to breathe.
Every step she takes is like time slowing down. The soft sway of her dress, the breeze catching her hair, the promise in the glance she throws over her shoulder. My chest aches with it.
I drag in a breath and close my eyes for just a second, whispering a prayer deep in my heart.God, thank You for this woman. For this day. For this love.
When I open them, I see my mom.
Waiting off to the side of the aisle, hands clasped, looking more nervous than I feel. I hadn’t known if she’d come. When I’d called—shaky voice, heart pounding—I’d half-expected the usual excuses. But she’d surprised me. She’d said yes. And now here she is.
I walk toward her, my heart pounding in a different way.
“Hey, Mom.”
She looks up at me, eyes misty. “Gray, you look...you look so grown. So good.”
I swallow hard. “You ready?”
She lets out a breathy little laugh. “I should be asking you that.”
I offer my arm. “Walk with me?”
Her fingers tremble as she slides her hand through the crook of my elbow. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
We step onto the aisle together, the sunlight filtering through the trees, the garden alive with soft music and the murmur of guests. As we walk, I feel the weight of everything we’ve come through—the hard years, the silence, the distance. And now this.
At the front, I pause and turn to her.
“Thanks for coming, Mom.”
She squeezes my arm, voice thick. “Thanks for letting me.”
She takes her seat in the front row, and I move to my place at the altar, the breeze lifting my hair, the scent of wildflowers filling the air.
Jack stands at the front, Bible in hand, glasses low on his nose, just like every time we sat across his desk. Except this time…he’s not mentoring me from behind a desk. He’s blessing my future from behind an altar.
Micah claps me on the back as I take my place beside him, grinning. “You sure about this?” he teases.
