Chapter 3: : Chapter 2

My brother stands frozen in the doorway, eyes narrowed in confusion. “What the hell’s going on in here?”

“Dane!” I gasp, my mind whirling with all that’s just transpired. I don’t know how to make sense of any of this myself, least of all explain it to an outsider.

I’m having some kind of out of body experience. I know I should be upset that Trent backed out—devastated, even. Yet, I feel more excited about this wedding than ever before. In the blink of an eye, this day has gone from merely fulfilling an obligation to a dream come true.

As far as Dane’s concerned, the only connection Lyle and I have is friendship. Well, that and the fact that we grew up neighbors.

“Samantha…” he prods. “Why did I just see your groom hightail it out of the parking lot like his ass was on fire, and what in God’s name is Lyle doing putting a ring on your finger?”

My mouth opens and closes, but my mind is blank. I’m finding it impossible to focus on anything but the weight of the diamond Lyle just placed on my finger.

It’s stunning and perfectly suited to my taste. But why is this man walking around with an engagement ring in his pocket? Could it even be possible that he had this planned all along? And what would I have done if Trent and I hadn’t just broken up and he’d come in here and proposed?

I have so many questions and no time to get them answered, because there’s a church filled with people who are waiting on me.

“I’ve got this,” my maid of honor offers when I stand there blankly staring into space. “Trent decided he no longer wanted to marry your sister, and Lyle stepped in.” Darci flashes my brother her pearly whites. “Just a little change in groom, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” He steps into the room, letting the door shut behind him.

“Well…” My best friend sucks air through her teeth. “That and the fact that she’s pregnant and doesn’t know if it’s Trent’s.”

“Jesus Christ, Darci,” I hiss.

Dane’s nostrils flare as he advances on Lyle, gripping him by the lapels of his gray suit jacket. “You fucked my sister?”

“Well,” he scoffs, every bit the cocky rockstar. “Not yet.”

My brother looks as if he’s seconds away from losing his shit as he eases his grip and refocuses his attention on me. “Who’s the father?”

“I don—” I start, my cheeks warm with humiliation.

“Me,” my soon to be interrupts without hesitation. “Look, all you need to know is that in just a few minutes, your dad is gonna walk his daughter down the aisle, the way he’s always dreamed. I’m going to marry your sister,” he says while peeling Dane’s fingers back one by one. “And we’ll raise this baby together.” He smooths the wrinkles out of his jacket then looks my brother dead in the eye. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re doing this for Dad.” Dane’s features soften toward his friend, the weight of our father’s illness cloaking him in an all-too-familiar cloud of defeat.

“I’m doing this,” Lyle answers, lacing his fingers with mine, “because I’m in love with your little sister. Make no mistake about that.”

His declaration has me fighting the urge to purr. I’ll never tire of hearing those words. Lyle Livingston loves .

Swap the white knight for a rock star. And the dragon with my own poor decisions. I’m living some version of the world’s most fucked-up fairytale.

Lyle is still everything I always knew him to be… gallant, and selfless, and noble to a fault.

“Since when?” my brother challenges, disbelief furrowing his brow. I can’t blame him for being skeptical. For as close as they are, my brother’s never gotten to see this side of Lyle. He’s never known his friend to have any interest in a woman beyond physical or platonic. Lyle’s kept the best of himself hidden so well for so long, it’s going to be difficult for those closest to him to believe our feelings are real. To accept there’s this whole other side to him they’ve never known.

“For as long as I can remember.” Lyle’s fingers tighten around mine, sending my heart racing. Nervous excitement pricks my skin. I’ve waited what feels like an eternity for the day this man would finally claim me as his. For the time to come when we could love each other out loud. Just when I’d given up hope, here he is.

“We don’t have time for this kind of drama,” Dane growls. “Why are you all so calm? This is a complete nightmare.”

“Only if you make it one,” Darci challenges, with a glare that dares him not to fall in line. “Just roll with the punches, big bro.”

He balls his hands at his sides and growls. “If Dad wasn’t sick—”

“I’d have gotten my head out of my ass eventually and proposed regardless,” Lyle assures him. “But Mr. Wayne sick. A fact that almost had your sister marrying the wrong man.”

“And you expect me to believe you’re the right one?” Dane quirks a quizzical brow.

“Please, Dane, just trust me on this, okay?” I plead, starting to hyperventilate.

“This,” he says, looking at the two of us hand in hand, “is a lot, sis.”

“I know.”

He scrubs a hand through his unruly blond curls, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re really having a baby?” he asks.

I nod, and as if on cue, my little bean turns my stomach. How’d I not recognize the near constant nausea I’ve been feeling as a sign of pregnancy? Now that I know…there have been so many signs. I guess my attention’s just been too focused elsewhere to put two and two together. “I’d prefer if we kept that bit a secret until after…”

He nods his agreement with no further explanation needed. It’s hard enough to know Dad’s leaving his wife and children behind. A grandbaby would just make things that much more tragic.

“All right then, if you’re committed to doing this…” His eyes volley between Lyle and me. “We need to get moving. What do you need from me?”

“A best man,” Lyle pleads, steepling his hands in front of his face.

“Of course.” Dane clears his throat, forcing a smile.

This entire situation is clearly making him uncomfortable, but all things considered, he’s being a good sport.

“And rings,” Lyle adds, shrugging his shoulders in apology. “I had the engagement ring…hadn’t gotten around to purchasing a wedding set.”

“I’m sure I can borrow some for the ceremony,” my brother says with a nod.

Before he can run off, I throw my arms around Dane’s neck, suddenly overcome with relief. My brother and my father are the reason Lyle and I have kept our feelings hidden all these years. The weight of the world has just been lifted from my chest. “Thank you.”

His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “You look beautiful,” he whispers into my ear, hugging me tight. “Most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

“Should I go out there and make an announcement or something?” Darci asks, interrupting our moment.

“Nah,” I say, imagining the chaos that would cause. “Let it be a surprise.”

With that, my brother takes off to complete his errand, and Darci follows to locate my other two bridesmaids and fill them in on the latest developments.

“Shit!” I say, just as Lyle starts for the door to have a chat with the pastor. “We don’t have a wedding license.”

“It’s fine,” he says, the picture of calm. “We’ll go through with the ceremony as planned and make things official at the courthouse next week.”

Another crisis averted; I draw in a deep breath. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this, you know.”

“It’s me who should be thanking you, Li’l Bit.” He smiles a longing smile. “Minutes ago, I thought I’d missed my only chance at happiness.” He pounds a fist lightly against his chest and points heavenward. “I’m thanking all that is holy that somehow this all worked out in my favor.”

“I love you, Lyle Livingston,” I say, my voice loaded with emotion. “So much.”

He stalks back over to where I’m standing, gripping either side of my face in his hands. “And I love you, Jailbait.” He presses a hard kiss to my lips—one that has me tingling from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. “If we didn’t have a hundred people and a dying man waiting, I’d show you just how much.”

“Believe me,” I rasp, “you just have.”

“Daddy…” I grip his frail hand in both of mine, out of breath after rushing over to join him in the church foyer. “There’s something I need to tell you before we walk through those doors.”

As I stand here before my father, who looks so small in his tux, his skin prematurely wrinkled from the weight he’s lost these last weeks, I can’t help but get a bit choked up. This day we’ve dreamed of for as long as I can remember—the one I’ve been training for since I got that first costume gown and veil for my third birthday—is finally here.

But the way my daddy’s looking at me—the love reflected in his deep brown eyes—is a memory I’ll hold for as long as I live. It makes every bit of this craziness worth it. Without a doubt, I’d go through the entire debacle again and again to land here in this moment.

Maybe I’ve made some questionable choices as of late. And it’s very likely the entire town will be whispering behind my back for years to come. None of it matters.

This…this instant. This feeling. Reaching this milestone is worth whatever it costs.

“What’s up, Sweat Pea?” His misty eyes are a blend of adoration and concern as he looks me over. The light filtering in through the stained-glass windows highlights the yellow tinge to his skin. It’s a stark reminder that his liver is shot—and of just how dire our situation is. I’m overcome with gratitude toward Lyle for swooping in and making this day a reality.

I’d have never forgiven myself.

“My goodness, you’re more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

“Thank you.” I give his fingers a gentle squeeze, hesitating to spoil his happiness—not wanting to see the pride disappear from his face.

I’d love nothing more than stand here and exchange pleasantries, but those doors will open any second, and the one person I can’t afford to leave in the dark is this man here. “Promise not to freak out, okay?”

“Are you calling off the wedding?” My father’s tone is surprisingly hopeful, catching me off guard. “I told you not to do this just for me.”

“No…” I shake my head. “But I—I’m not marrying Trent.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the deep breath that whooshes out of the man is born of pure relief. “All right, I’m trying to follow… But if you’re not calling off the wedding and you’re not marrying that weasel, who’s the groom?”

My stomach sparks to life with nervous flutters as I prepare for the worst. My body has yet to receive the memo that I’m no longer fifteen and that there’s no reason the two of us being together should matter any longer. “It’s Lyle,” I murmur, chewing the inside of my cheek.

“Livingston?”

“Yep.” I nod, trying to read his stony face.

He chuckles to himself. “You mean to tell me that son of a bitch finally located his balls?”

“Daddy!” I glance around nervously, hoping no one heard him. “We’re in .”

“So we are.” He laces his arm through mine. “Let’s go get you two hitched, then.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“Heck no,” he scoffs. “Ain’t blind or dumb, either. Your mom and I always assumed the two of you’d end up married someday.”

“You did?”

“You think we didn’t notice the way you two were always making eyes at each other?” He smiles. “Or the many afternoons y’all wound up missing at the same time?”

“But you never said anything…”

“Wasn’t my place. I just kept him scared enough to know better than to get on my bad side.”

“You certainly succeeded there.”

He beams. “Your old man had a few tricks up his sleeve.”

“I guess you did,” I murmur.

“Lyle’s a good boy,” Dad proclaims. “He’ll take care of you.”

“Yeah,” I say with a smile brimming from ear to ear. “I think he will.”

Our conversation’s cut short when the organ sounds.

“Ready?” I ask, with a mouth full of sand.

“Ready or not,” Daddy answers, sporting a shit grin as he nudges his elbow into my side. “It’s now or never, ain’t it?”

His morbid sense of humor has me wanting to both laugh and burst into tears as the enormous, cathedral-style doors swing open and dozens of eyes fix in our direction.

I draw a shaky breath and hold it for what feels like the longest—and definitely the most significant—walk of my life.

With every step I draw closer to that altar—to the future I’ve always dreamed of, that until minutes ago I’d given up on. I’m bidding farewell to not only my past as a single woman, but to my father.

It’s both bitter and sweet as a litany of contradictory emotions war within.

I can hardly see through the tears pouring down my face.

The significance of my dying father quite literally holding me up to get me through this, as opposed to the contrary, is not lost on me. This man, who can hardly make it to the bathroom on his own anymore, has somehow found the strength to carry his little girl one last time.

“It’s okay,” Daddy says, as we approach the center of the church and wait for my groom to come out of the shadows and join us. “You’re doing so good, Sweet Pea.”

There’s a loud series of gasps when Lyle steps into view, but it’s quickly drowned out by the erratic beating of my own heart.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greets, dipping his head as he reaches for my father’s hand, pulling him in for a hug.

I nearly fall over at the sight of their bodies shaking with the force of their tear-filled embrace. And I can’t help the thought that passes—that had it been Trent, this exchange wouldn’t have been nearly so meaningful.

I guess sometimes things really do have to fall apart so they can come together.

I’m feeling weak in the knees when Dane appears at my side, offering me his arm. “Guess Dad took the news okay?”

I snort because there’s no way I could formulate a single syllable at this point.

“All right, old man,” my brother teases, pulling the two men apart. “This is where she becomes someone else’s problem.”

“You take care of my little girl.” Daddy takes my hand, placing a kiss over my knuckles before slipping it into Lyle’s.

“You have my word, sir.”

My father bites down on his trembling lower lip and nods. “Then dammit, boy, you have my blessing.”

Those sitting nearest to us must overhear the exchange because the sniffles and sobs are momentarily interrupted by a handful of giggles.

Dane guides my father to his seat in the front pew beside my mother while Lyle slips his arm through mine and we complete the trek to the altar, where my best friends—Liz, Darci, and Margo—stand to the left of the stairs, blubbering into their bouquets.

My cousins Robert and Michael, who were to be ushers, stand beside my brother to our right. Dane must’ve had the good sense to recruit them, since they were already clad in tuxes for their roles, to serve as groomsmen.

To anyone who didn’t know who I was supposed to be marrying, nothing would appear out of place. It’s a picture-perfect wedding—like something right out of a magazine.

You’d never guess the entire thing was thrown together in two weeks. Or that the father of the bride was knocking on death’s door. And let’s not even get started on the whole pregnancy and groom disaster.

I feel like an actress playing a part in the story of my own life with no idea where the plot might lead.

The church is draped in white roses and baby’s breath. Lush floral arrangements in varieties of pink and cream cover every available surface. With each inhale, I’m graced with the scent of their fragrant blooms. Three bridesmaids, three groomsmen, and the most adorable little flower girl and ringbearer you ever did see make up the wedding party.

As it stands, I’m thanking my lucky stars that the guest list was largely compiled of my own friends and family, and that Trent only invited his immediate family, most of whom, it appears—judging by the empty pews on the groom’s side—have already quietly excused themselves.

Try as I might, I can’t stop my thoughts from wandering to what they all must think of me.

“Uncle Lyle?” asks Annabelle, my flower girl, tugging at his pants leg. “What’s going on?” the five-year-old whispers. “You’re not Miss Sammi’s boyfriend.”

A grin splits his too-handsome face as he squats to her level and presses a kiss to her cheek. “Sammi opted for an upgrade at the very last minute.”

Her big brown eyes widen. “You can do that?”

“Yep,” he says, rising back to his full height, his amber eyes connecting with mine. “It’s never too late to change your mind, pumpkin.”

The little brunette harumphs. “Better hurry before she changes hers again.”

I choke on a laugh. Leave it to a kid to lighten the mood.

“Annabelle,” Liz hisses at her daughter, motioning for her to zip it.

“She’s fine, sis.” Lyle sends his niece a wink before apologizing to Pastor John for the distraction. “We’re ready.”

Our childhood pastor greets us with a warm smile and a nod before welcoming our guests. I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall when Lyle filled him in on the change-up. I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say when he gets me alone later, but for now he’s the picture of decorum.

“You, okay?” Lyle whispers, giving my hand a shake when I start to zone out.

My cheeks flame and I nod, directing my attention from his knowing grin to Aunt Barbara, who’s already halfway through her reading.

The two of us have slept through our fair share of weddings growing up. We swore we’d wed barefoot, with our toes in the sand, bypassing these drawn-out formalities. But you know what they say about best laid plans.

“This is taking forever,” I grump to my groom after the pastor gives us communion and we take our seats while he moves on to distribute the sacrament to our guests.

Lyle’s chuckle is muffled by the choir. “Hey…I had nothing to do with the planning of this snooze fest. This one’s all on you, Li’l Momma.”

“Didn’t really have many options, considering Daddy can’t travel.”

“I know,” he says, trailing a finger up my spine. The gentleness in his touch has a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my chest. And when he brings his lips to my ear, it’s all I can do not to melt into a puddle at his feet. “You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” I say, trying to disguise the longing in my voice.

“Seriously,” he says, grabbing my hand and spinning the engagement ring around my finger. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“How long have you had this?” It’s probably not the best time for this conversation, but curiosity is killing me.

The apples of his cheeks pink. “A few years.”

“What exactly were you waiting for?” I feel myself getting worked up over the fact that it took me nearly marrying another man for him to realize he still wanted me. At the same time I feel guilty for my indignation, because he is here and he’s saving my ass.

He shushes me, smothering a laugh at my inability to ever pull off a proper whisper. “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “The right moment?”

“Shitty timing, Livingston,” I snap, the words leaving my mouth right after the music comes to an end.

I mean, of course I did, right? Because the rest of this day hasn’t been humiliating enough.

Pastor John stares and loudly clears his throat before motioning us to rejoin him.

The old man quirks a brow then murmurs, “Is the plan still to say your own vows?”

“Uhhh,” I stammer, knowing the vows I agonized over for the past week for Trent will no longer cut it.

“Just wing it,” Lyle encourages, clearly having no qualms about being put on the spot like this.

“Yeah,” I stammer, bile climbing in my throat. “Sure.”

“All right then,” Pastor John says with a smile. “Mr. Livingston, you’re up first.”

He rolls his shoulders before taking my hand into his. Ever the entertainer, Lyle cracks a huge smile, gazing out at the crowd. “Good thing I thought to dress my best for the occasion, huh?”

“And with a ring in your pocket no less,” I chime in, playing to our audience, as heat blooms in my cheeks.

My groom pats his chest and back pockets theatrically like he’s misplaced something. “Yet despite that bold move, I lacked the confidence to come prepared with vows.”

“If you’re lacking anything,” our pastor drawls, “it’s certainly not confidence.”

The church erupts with laughter.

“Touché.” Lyle chuckles before straightening his spine and cradling my hand in both of his.

“Li’l Bit,” he says, stroking his thumb over my knuckles. “I came here today prepared to let go. Then I found myself pacing outside your bridal suite, unsure what I was there for, but physically unable to peel myself away.” He blows out a breath. “I knew I was too late. I couldn’t just barge in there and stop this wedding like we’re in the movies. This is real life, and through no one’s fault but my own, I’d missed my chance.” He smiles. “But just as I was mustering the strength to walk away, lightning struck, and I was given a second chance—one I’m not quite sure I deserve but that I’m eternally grateful for nonetheless.”

He grips my chin in his thumb and forefinger, tipping my face up so I’m singularly focused on what he’s about to say.

“Sammi Deluca, I promise to love you.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “It feels silly to have to vow to do something that comes as natural as breathing.”

He rubs the pad of his thumb over my trembling lower lip. “I promise I’ll do my best to keep you happy…to give you the life that you deserve.”

The grin that follows tells me the mushy part is over.

“I’ll keep the house stocked with Reese’s Pieces, even though I despise even the smell of peanut butter, because I know how much you love them.” He fiddles with the diamond on my finger. “I’ll be nice to Maui”—my Indian Ringneck Parrot “even though I’m convinced your baby would love nothing more than to peck my eyes out, because I know how much you love him.”

His mention of my bird, who is positively feral to anyone but me, has me grinning like a loon.

“I’ll learn to separate laundry by color because I know how crazy you get about mixing them. I’ll let you shower first and not complain when it’s my turn and there’s no hot water left, because I know how much you love your long, scalding showers.”

“Good one,” I whisper.

“I’ll apologize, even when you’re wrong, because I know no one’s more stubborn than you.”

My jaw drops.

With a finger he snaps it shut. “You and me…we might be a surprise to everyone else in this room,” he says, “but I’ve spent years dreaming of the life we’d share together. One filled with laughter and adventure. With friendship and love.” He gives my chin a gentle pinch before lowering his hand from my face. “I fell in love with you as a teenager, and despite the distance, that love has only multiplied as you’ve grown into a strong, independent woman. And I look forward to falling in love with every version yet to come.”

“Is someone cutting onions in here?” I ask, sniffling.

Lyle brings both thumbs to my face, swiping the wetness from beneath my eyes, and offers me an encouraging smile.

“Well,” I say, pulling the folded-up note card from my bust. “Guess I won’t be needing these anymore.” I rip the useless vows in half and then in half again before looking around for somewhere to place the trash. I can’t exactly toss it on the church floor.

Shaking his head, Lyle takes the pieces from me and stuffs them into his inside pocket.

“Always rescuing me, this one,” I say, batting my lashes at my groom. “So, I guess it’s only fitting you’re here doing it once again.” I pause briefly to collect my thoughts. “Most people look at you and see a jokester, or a celebrity. But to me you’ll always be the hottie from next door.”

Lyle snorts.

I shoot a sideways glance at the pastor. “Can—can I say hottie in church?”

“Just keep going,” he says with a sigh.

“Right. Okay.” I cringe. “Sorry.”

I bring my attention back to my groom. “When I look at you, I don’t see trouble or a bad boy…I see my rock. I see the most selfless, honorable, dependable man I’ve ever known.”

, he mouths, his eyes shining with emotion.

“I love you, Lyle Livingston,” I say, loud and proud. “Not the fame. Not the image. I love —my best friend. My protector. And more times than I can count, my knight in shining armor.”

“Awww,” Darci coos behind me, drawing a similar reaction from the crowd.

“I promise to love you. To honor you. To cherish every moment with you…”

“Obey,” he whisper-shouts, and the guests titter.

“Not a chance,” I respond, further encouraging their laughter. “After all, you just said my independence was something you loved about me.”

He nods, shrugging one shoulder.

“Our relationship has been unconventional, to say the least. But I’d like to believe the time we’ve spent apart, growing as individuals, has given us the maturity and knowledge necessary for a successful marriage.” I clear a wad of emotion from my throat. “I gave up on us.” A fat tear tracks my cheek. “For that I’m so sorry, but I promise it’ll never happen again.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“From this day forward, I promise to communicate my feelings and fears, and to be a sounding board for yours, and a soft place to land when you need it. We’ve spent years growing apart, and I can’t wait to see what we can do together.”