by Ava Miles
Rye poured the round of Pappy Van Winkles and passed them around. “You’re as hopeless as Rhett here is.”
The door to the suite clicked open, and Mac Maven strolled in like he owned the place—which he did. “Since I knew you were stewing about how Abbie and Dustin would react to your note, I thought I’d come down to tell you they both cried.”
Rhett’s air passage felt like it narrowed to one of those small wedding tapers he and Abbie had chosen to light the ceremony. “She did? Dustin too?”
Mac slid his hands in his pockets. “Yes. Happy now?”
“I didn’t mean it to make them cry.” This was Abbie’s wedding day, for heaven’s sake. And Dustin was a teenager. What teenager liked to cry in front of his mama?
“Rhett, this was crying in the best way possible,” Mac said. “I know I’ve said it before, but it means the world to me that you’re adopting Dustin. Sending in the paperwork today was a wonderful idea.”
“I’m the one who should thank you,” Rhett said as his chest tightened. “Heck, I’m getting all choked up now. Mac, if you hadn’t thought me good enough for your sister…”
“Enough of that talk,” Mac said, pouring himself a bourbon. “Abbie thought you were good enough, and that’s all that matters.”
“She finally thought he was good enough,” Rye added since everyone in the room knew she’d taken her time about it.
“Amen to that,” Clayton added.
“Who’s toasting?” Mac asked, extending his glass.
“I was going to,” Rye said, “but I’m happy to cede the floor if you feel so moved.”
“No, go ahead,” Rhett’s future brother-in-law answered.
Rye raised his bourbon. “To Rhett. One of the finest buddies a man could ever call friend. And to this new journey with Abbie. May the road ahead of you be easy and light.”
Most of the guys threw back their drinks, but Mac only took a sip.
“Is this year not to your liking?” Rhett asked, narrowing his eyes at the bottle across the room.
“No, I had some champagne upstairs with the family,” he said, waggling his brows. “Trying to take it easy since I have to walk the bride down the aisle.”
Checking his watch, Rhett rolled his eyes. “Can’t we start this whole shindig early?”
“No,” his buddies all cried out in unison.
He sat down in one of the arm chairs perpendicular to the couch, crossed his ankle over his knee, and watched as the seconds passed until he could make Abbie and Dustin his.
***
When Mac returned from his foray to Rhett’s lair, Abbie and Dustin had made a change to the ceremony. The idea had come to her after seeing her soon-to-be husband’s note.
“Mac,” she said softly, “Dustin and I have been talking, and if it’s okay with you, he’s going to walk me down the aisle like Keith did with Peggy. After what Rhett did…”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” he said agreeably, like she’d known he would.
Her makeup was perfect now, so she felt inclined to add, “And no more sentimentality. I can’t keep retouching my makeup, or it will clump.”
“You women are such a mystery when it comes to your beauty,” he said, walking over to ruffle Dustin’s hair.
“I’ll make sure no one gets sentimental, Abbie,” Peggy told her.
“It’s too bad there’s not a professional career in such a thing, my dear,” Mac said with a soft smile. “You would be a millionaire in no time.”
She only rolled her eyes.
“What’s ‘sentimental?’” Keith asked, bounding over to Dustin.
“Mushy,” her son answered.
He giggled. “Yeah, my mom’s not mushy.”
Mac picked him up and threw him in the air, causing him to squeal. “But I am, so it all balances out. How about we play a game of blackjack to pass the time?”
“You’re gambling on my wedding day?” Abbie asked, putting her hands on her hips.
He shrugged. “You are marrying a professional poker player. And we won’t do it for money. Besides, Keith is getting really good at it.”
“I am!” the little boy cried out. “Do you have a pack of cards in here, Dad?”
It warmed Abbie’s heart to hear the little boy refer to her brother that way. Since Keith had a father, even though he wasn’t present in his life, Mac hadn’t been able to officially adopt him. But that didn’t mean their bond was any less strong. She couldn’t wait for Dustin to call Rhett Dad. And now she was tearing up again.
Peggy came over, and Abbie thought for a moment she was going to express concern over how easy Keith was becoming around gambling—something she was still learning to accept as a part of her life. “Your eyes look a bit shiny all of the sudden. Are you getting sentimental again?”
“Yes,” she confessed as her brother and the boys commandeered a small table by the window for their blackjack game. It touched her that Peggy’s concern wasn’t for her son’s ease around cards.
“Do what I do in that situation. I want you to think of the worst criminal on the planet, and then imagine yourself catching him and hauling him off to jail.”
That’s how her sister-in-law calmed her emotions? She was slightly terrified. “I…ah…don’t know who the worst criminals are.”
Peggy gave her a look of disapproval before shaking her head. “Okay, let’s try something else. How about you tell me about your favorite flower? Everyone knows you’re wild about them.”
Now that she could do. She was in charge of all the flower arrangements at The Grand Mountain Hotel, and the flower bill for the wedding might have been as much as the liquor budget—not that she was about to publicly admit that. This was her day, and while she might not be a blushing bride, she was darn well going to be surrounded by beautiful flowers.
“The one I like best is a part of my bouquet,” she told Peggy. Of course, her bouquet was in the cooler because she didn’t want it to wilt before the ceremony. “It’s called the Sweet Juliet rose, and it took David Austin fifteen years to create it.”
Peggy’s mouth parted. “Are you telling me some guy spent fifteen years of his life trying to make a rose?”
She made it sound like the man was addled. “Some people chase criminals. Others create roses.”
“Hmm…” Peggy said with a frown. “I’ll have to take a closer look at your bouquet.”
“You’ll see the roses all over. I included them in the table arrangements along with lily of the valley.” Sure, lily of the valley stems were ten dollars apiece, especially at this time of year, but their fragrance was too delicious to pass up the opportunity.
Even though Peggy looked like she’d just eaten a lemon, she said, “What other flowers do you like?”
If she hadn’t already warmed up to her sister-in-law, that comment would have been enough to make her fall head over heels for her. She passed the time talking about sweet peas, peonies, dahlias, and orchids. By the time there was a discreet knock on the suite door, Peggy was looking over at the blackjack game with longing, which showed just how desperate she was.
Abbie went to answer the door. Her wedding planner stood there with an earpiece tucked discreetly into her brown curls.
“It’s time,” she said, extending Abbie’s bouquet to her.
Everyone crossed to the door as she took the apricot-flushed roses and lifted them to her nose. The ribbon-wrapped stems were cold in her hands, but the flower’s signature fragrance of fresh tea and lemon was pure decadence. Combined with the magical scent of lily of the valley, it created a perfume that was both sweet and exotic at the same time. The wedding and reception areas would be fragrant with it.
“So these are the flowers you were talking about?” Peggy asked.
She held out the bouquet so her sister-in-law could take a whiff if she wanted. Peggy screwed up her nose and cast an embarrassed glance at Mac, as if to say she was only doing it out of love for him. Then she leaned in.
She b
linked rapidly before looking up to meet Abbie’s eyes. “Those smell really good.”
“I want to smell them,” Keith piped in, bouncing up and down like a colored ball in a kid’s air popper toy.
When he leaned in and took a deep inhale, she could only smile. He was the sweetest little boy on the planet, and she was so lucky to have him as her nephew.
“Wow, those smell really good, Aunt Abbie,” he said. “Dustin. You should smell them too.”
She knew her son wanted to roll his eyes—flowers were so not cool to teenage boys—but he did it because he adored Keith.
“They’re okay,” he said, his ears turning red.
The wedding planner fitted him with his boutonniere and then turned to Mac. She was Johnny on the spot, this one, which is why she’d hired her.
“Would you like to smell them too?” she asked her brother with a sly grin. “I don’t want you to feel left out.”
“I think the one on my lapel will do,” he said, fingering the single rose fitted there. “Shall we?”
They walked down to the event space together, and her wedding planner touched her earpiece and mumbled something that sounded like, “The bride is here.”
Mac kissed her on the cheek at the door. “I’m so happy for you and Rhett and Dustin, Abbie. Today marks a wonderful new chapter for all of you.”
“Me too. Are you ready to take the rings down the aisle, Keith?”
He nodded eagerly and held out both hands so the wedding planner could hand him the pillow bearing the rings. Mac leaned down and whispered something in his ear, which made him smile, and then Keith went through the door.
Peggy and Mac slipped in behind him and disappeared.
“Wait,” the wedding planner said suddenly, “isn’t your brother supposed to be taking you down the aisle?”
Dustin extended his arm to her and gave the woman a shy smile.
“We made a last-minute change,” she said, feeling a little guilty she’d forgotten to tell the poor woman. “My son is going to do the honors.”
Dustin puffed out his chest, looking much older than sixteen. “Rhett is going to get all mushy when he sees us together.”
Yes, he would, but he would also understand the message. He’d made them all a family today by officially accepting her son as his own. Now, it only seemed fitting they both greet him together.
She heard the romantic strands of Mendelssohn's “Wedding March” begin and felt the wedding planner put a hand to her back to urge her through the door.
Everyone was standing and staring at her, but she pulled her gaze away from the crowd so she could find Rhett. He stood at the end of the white-carpeted aisle, his face radiating all the love and desire she’d come to expect from him. It took her a moment to take in what he was wearing. The blue-and-white seersucker suit fit him perfectly. Somehow his shirt, bow tie, and handkerchief were the same shade as the Sweet Juliet rose in his boutonniere. She’d expected a tuxedo, but when she thought about it, she hadn’t asked him what he would be wearing. He looked every inch the Southern gentleman he always was in her presence—well, except behind closed doors, which was exactly how she liked him.
His eyes were misting over like Dustin had predicted. He broke tradition by taking a few steps toward her and Dustin when they stopped at the end of the aisle.
He grabbed Dustin in a hug. “Thanks for bringing your mama to me, son.”
Her eyes filled with tears as their gazes connected over Dustin’s shoulder.
“You’re mine now,” he told Dustin, glancing back at her son, their son now. “Even if I’m not making official vows to you, I promise I’ll be a good daddy to you. Always. I’ll never let either of you down.”
A tear crested down her cheek, and the ceremony hadn’t even started. Dustin wiped tears from his eyes too as the two men she loved simply gazed at each other.
Then Dustin nodded. “And I’ll be a good son, Dad. I promise you.”
“I know you will be,” Rhett said in a raspy voice. “Now take a seat beside your uncle so your mama and I can get hitched all proper-like.”
Dustin grinned and then reached over to hug her. “I love you, Mom.”
She inhaled his scent. Somehow even over the musky cologne Rhett had bought him for the wedding, she could still smell the little boy scent she’d always cherished about him. “I love you too, Dustin.”
After their boy took his seat, Rhett held out his hand to Abbie. After giving her bouquet to the wedding planner, who stood discreetly off to the side, she clasped his hand in hers.
They turned to face the preacher, who was waiting patiently for them.
“Everyone, please be seated,” he said to their guests.
She didn’t remember much after the ceremony began. Her mind might as well have been filled with thick, fluffy clouds at sunrise streaked with pinks and blues. She heard the preacher speak and tell the story of how they met, but all she could seem to focus on was Rhett and how he was looking at her, how he was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
When Rhett said his vows to her, he cried through it, and so did she. When it came time for her to say her vows, her throat clammed up, and it took her a moment to recover her voice. Her profession to love him all the days of her life came out more like a whisper, but it didn’t matter. The only one who truly needed to hear it was Rhett.
They exchanged rings, and by then, she and Rhett were both grinning like fools, their tears completely gone.
The preacher finished with a blessing, and it moved her to watch Rhett bow his head while still holding both her hands. She felt the blessing all the way to her soul. This was true love, the kind that came from some special design, something bigger than either of them. And she was grateful, so grateful, it had found her after all these years of being on her own.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the preacher said.
“This is my favorite part,” Rhett said in a hushed voice, making her laugh.
“You may kiss the bride,” the man said.
“You better believe it.” Rhett pulled her close to his body and cupped her cheek. “My wife.”
When he kissed her, she met his mouth with equal parts gentleness and benevolence. No one had told her their first kiss as husband and wife would feel different, but somehow it did. It was like receiving a beautiful quilt from your grandmother, knowing it wasn’t just beautiful but would always keep you warm and remind you of all the love and support that comes with that magical unit called a family.
When they parted, she stared at him. He was her family now—her husband, the father of her son and any more children they would have together.
As they walked down the aisle, it felt like they were paving a new path together. And theirs was lined with the sweet fragrance of her favorite rose.
***
If there was one thing Rhett knew how to do, it was throw a party. Rhett surveyed the reception area. He would have been comfortable getting married in a bar strewn with white lights, but Abbie was a table-setting kind of girl, so they’d compromised. Whisky barrels covered with glass tops displayed the various food stations. He could see Rye, Clayton, and John Parker piling on the dry-rub ribs he’d begged to have on the menu. Abbie hadn’t gone for his idea of including a whole spit pig, so they’d have to make do.
An old upside-down wooden soda box off in the corner held the cloth-covered jams and preserves his mama had brought from her lady friends in Natchez to give as gifts to the guests. She had insisted that she provide something, and since he knew his mama’s bourbon-infused plum jam to be the best in five counties, he’d agreed after running the idea by Abbie. There was a simple chalkboard sign that said Please Take A Jar As Our Thanks For Coming. He’d already seen Rye take two.
Surrounded by his family and friends, he had the impulse to stand up on a table and make a toast to his new bride.
But he knew Abbie didn’t much care for that kind of flamboyance. Plus, his mama would take him to the woodshed
for acting like a deranged groom, even if the deranged part was simply because he was as happy as a lark. Usually she was the one who climbed up on a table, for what she called dancing, and he could only hope she might use a little restraint at his wedding. Which was highly unlikely, he knew.
He eyed his mama as she approached him. Eugenia Lynn Blaylock had never been a small woman. She joked that she’d popped out of her mama’s womb with the God-given curves she’d proudly worn all her life. Her blue dress hugged her ample bosom, and she was already three sheets to the wind from all the mint juleps she and his cousin must have thrown back before the ceremony. She hugged him hard, her hands strong from all the sewing she’d done to provide for them when he was no more than a sprout.
“Son, you’ve done your mama proud, marrying that angel and agreeing to raise her son like your own. I can pass on to my maker now.”
“Don’t you dare talk about dying on my wedding day, Mama,” he told her, hugging her back equally hard since she liked a good squeeze. “Abbie and I plan to give you more grandbabies to dote on besides Dustin.”
She ambled back, her eyes sparkling. “All right then. I’ll wait. Just not too long. Abbie, my dear. I just keep telling Rhett how lucky he was to find an angel like you. Honey child, I swear, you were the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. Who made that gown for you?”
Abbie found his hand. She was still a little daunted by his mama—like most people were at first. Eugenia was loud and feisty and flamboyant. He was a chip off the old block.
“I found it at a bridal boutique in Denver, Mrs. Butler.”
“Honey child, how many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Mama?’ I may have raised this rascal, but I look after my own, and you and Dustin are family now. Dustin, come on over here and give your Me-Maw a kiss.”
If Abbie was daunted, Dustin was flat-out intimidated. Rhett’s mama pinched the boy’s cheeks every chance she got and fussed over him something fierce. Neither one of them had ever been fussed over by the likes of Eugenia Lynn Butler. It would take some getting used to.
