Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (32 page)

I stand back, slack jawed and confused. “Can someone please tell me what in the world is going on?”

Cain and Timothy keep walking, seemingly unfazed by my question. West pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “Let’s go find out.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me forward, looking back every so often to gauge my reaction. We cross the threshold, and the room is bathed in soft candlelight. A full-fledged grin takes up residence on West’s face.

“What are you up to?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and wrapping my arms around his neck. I push up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips.

He releases my hands from his neck and holds them while walking backward, pulling me along with him. “What do you mean?”

“West, I don’t think these candles were here when I left yesterday.” There’s laughter in my voice, and my heart swells at the thought of him planning this for me.

“Weren’t they?”

“West, stop it! No more questions.”

He stops at the entrance of the back showroom and pulls me close. “You’re absolutely right, Alex. No more questions. Only answers going forward, I promise.”

He walks me into the room and I stop cold, stunned at what I see in front of me. This section of the gallery is usually filled with the work of local artists, but those pieces are nowhere to be found. As I scan the room, I realize the walls are covered with memories … memories of us.

My sketches have been framed, matted, and hung. Our tree, our pond, and a close up of his eye are some of the first drawings I see.

“Someone’s been digging through my things,” I say as I turn and meet his eyes. He’s leaning against the doorframe, quietly watching my every move. His expression is soft, reminding me so much of the boy from my past. In this moment, I feel him, all of the old and new pieces that make him my West, settling deep inside my bones, straight into my soul.

The next frame is a collage of pictures. Photographs of a younger me drawing, laughing, sleeping. I can’t believe the sheer volume of photos since I don’t ever remember seeing a camera. I didn’t pose for one of these pictures.

“Cell phones are wonderful. In those moments when you were so beautiful it nearly hurt, I would snap a picture. As you can see, I felt that way often … I still do.”

“West…” There are no words. Nothing I say will describe how it feels to see myself through his eyes. To finally know that he mirrored every single thing I felt all those years ago is the greatest gift. It’s immeasurable.

My heart stutters as I keep moving forward. Still faded and creased from age and use, my drawing from the day I met West stares back at me. I remember the small tinge of hope I felt when I found it at his house just a few months ago. That feeling, that tiny ounce of faith, is swallowed whole by the overwhelming sense of love I feel today. It’s all encompassing and triumphant. Everything else pales in comparison.

“I never let it go. I carried that sketch with me through it all.” He looks down for a moment, and then lifts his gaze to mine. “You should have seen me when I came to after the accident. I didn’t have any of my personal belongings, but the only thing I really cared about was that drawing. I was out of my mind, hollering at the nurses, trying to rip out my IV lines. They had to give me a sedative. When I woke up, the drawing was on the bedside table.”

I was always with him.

As I reach the last frame, I see that it’s different from the others. While they are memories from the past, this is a recent painting of mine, created after spending the weekend with Lucy and West.

Wings. Outstretched and ready to take flight. The feather tips are out of sight, the wings too wide and expansive to be contained to the canvas.

“I can feel it, you know.” His breath dances along my skin as his arms wrap around me. “Where the poppy painting was pain and hurt, this one is anticipation—a new beginning.”

I turn in his arms and lay my head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. “Not a new beginning … just a fresh start.”

He pulls away slightly to meet my gaze. “I look at these drawings, these photos, all of the memories we’ve had, and I’m so grateful. You’re my past, my present, and I can’t even imagine a life without you in my future. I feel like every day I spend with you is a continuation of the most beautiful love story, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

West drops down to his knee and grabs both of my hands. “Please tell me you feel the same way. That you’re in this with me.” I blink through my tears and see the boy I adored, the man I love, and my future staring back at me. “Be my wife.”

I shut my eyes for a moment and let the weight of his words wash over me.

Be my wife.

I slowly open my eyes and pull him to standing. I don’t see the ring until I grab his hand. It’s obviously an antique, Victorian, if I had to guess. It’s made of rose gold with an oval panel of diamonds and pearls—so unique, so perfect. His selection is further proof that he knows exactly who I am.

I slide the ring onto my finger, holding his gaze the entire time. Once it slides into place, I sigh softly, knowing down to my bones it’s right.
We’re
right.

“West, I’ve been ‘in this’ with you since the day you caught me in my polka dot panties all those years ago. You have to know, I’ll follow you anywhere. I’d wait forever for you.”

He cups my chin and brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I’ll never make you wait for me again. I promise you that.”

“Yes,” I say quickly, unable to wait another second. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“When?”

It seems I’m not the only one who’s impatient, and I’m bursting, positively beaming. I reach up to my tippy toes and place my lips on his. We stay connected, and I open my eyes and smile. I smile because every ache, every bit of longing, every stinging word I’ve endured—it’s all worth it.

Our love is not effortless. We’ve clawed our way through the brush and fire to get here today. But aren’t the things we bleed for the most precious?

I tip my head and peek at his watch. As I watch the second hand tick away, I feel sure I can’t waste another minute, not another second of my life without tying myself to this man. A smile breaks out across my face as I look into his eager eyes.

“I bet we can make it to the Justice of the Peace before they close.”

“
Perfect For Me
” by Ron Pope

EVERYONE BUSTLES AROUND me, but serenity and calm flow through my veins. My mother ties and unties the white ribbon on my bouquet again and again as she fusses about getting the bow just right. Marlo fists a handful of makeup brushes while trying to attack me with a rainbow of eye shadow—so not happening. Holly stands in the corner reciting her maid of honor speech over and over, promising it will be perfect no matter how many times I tell her there’s no such thing. With all the nervous energy pinging off the walls, I should be a nervous wreck. But I’m not.

Because today is the day I become West Adler’s wife.

We didn’t get married by the Justice of the Peace after all. When I called my parents and told them the news, they were thrilled for us. West drove to Cedar Ridge the day before and asked my father’s permission to propose, so my mother perched next to the phone the following day, waiting for my inevitable call. I can only imagine her face falling when I told her about our impromptu plans.

“My daughter, married by a judge? I won’t have it. I simply won’t have it. Oh my word, I can’t breathe.”

I hear her hyperventilating through the phone as she passes the receiver to my father. I imagine she’s laid out on the couch, one hand clutching her heart and the other fanning herself.

“Alexandra Marie, your mother is beside herself, and I’m no better. Please tell me you are not planning on robbing me of the opportunity of walking my only daughter down the aisle.” His voice hitches on the last word. It turns out an emotional father is my kryptonite.

After getting a slight nod from West, I lay down the law. “She’s got one month, Daddy. Not a minute more.”

Let me tell you, she’s made the most of those four weeks. I made two requests—I want to be married at our oak tree and the guest list is to be kept bare bones. The first request made the second one a necessity. I didn’t give her much space to work with. Only immediate family and close friends are invited, right at about twenty people.

I watch her fussing over my simple bouquet of lavender and smooth my hands over my vintage gown, knowing my mother did her best to make this wedding a portrayal of me. She and I may be polar opposites in many ways, but this small concession means the world to me.

I bought my dress at an antique linen shop in the French Quarter. The minute I saw it, I couldn’t imagine wearing anything else on my wedding day. The bodice is French corded lace with seed pearls sewn in, held up by thin, silk straps. The waterfall skirt skims the ground, only allowing a hint of my ballet flats to peek out from underneath a sea of semi-sheer fabric.

I decide to leave my hair down, a sea of waves down my back, just the way West likes it. My makeup is light, much to Marlo’s chagrin. Light blush, dusting powder, mascara, and lip gloss are the only products I allow her to use. After doing her best with the limitations I imposed upon her, she steps back with glassy eyes, so atypical of my friend. “Perfect,” she whispers, then leans in close to my ear. “There better be some crotchless panties to go along with this whole virginal look you’ve got going.”

Marlo.

“Ra Ra, Gage keeps stealing my petals,” Lily whines as she rights the tiny tiara sitting on top of her head. She clutches her basket close to her chest with one hand and pushes her tumbling brown curls out of her face with the other.

Sara points her finger at Gage and narrows her eyes. “Come on, bud, leave her alone. She wants to do a good job for Alex and West, just like you. How can she do that if she doesn’t have any petals left?”

His tiny shoulders slump as he plops down onto the sofa. “Okay, but she’s not doing it right. I was only trying to show her how. She throws like a girl.” He tugs at his tie and squirms in his seat, obviously wishing for a t-shirt and sweatpants instead of a suit. Regardless, he’s the most handsome little man I’ve ever seen.

Before Sara lowers her hand, a shimmer of light catches my attention. I’m not the only one who notices and Sara jerks forward as Marlo grabs her left hand.

“And what in the hell is this?” Marlo’s eyes widen and her mouth forms a perfect “O” as she eyes my mother. “Sorry, Mrs. Fontaine. It just slipped out.”

My mother stalks across the room and grabs Sara’s hand from Marlo. “No need to apologize, Marlo. I have the same question. Sara, dear, do you have something to tell us?”

Gage latches onto Sara’s leg tightly and hollers in the gruffest voice a four year old boy can muster. “Ra Ra is marrying our daddy and we’re gonna be a family!”

My mother stoops down to Gage’s level and tips his chin lightly. “I think that’s amazing news, don’t you?”

Gage nods his head slowly as Celia, Marlo, and me huddle around Sara to ooh and ah over her engagement ring. An emerald cut diamond sits on top of a platinum band. It’s simple, elegant, and absolutely stunning.

“And why are we the last to know this amazing news?” I scold, only half joking.

Sara giggles and retracts her hand. “We’ll have a girl’s night and I’ll give everyone the play by play, I promise. He only asked me a few days ago, and I wanted us to celebrate Alex and West today.” She meets my eyes and beams. “I’m so honored to be here, Alex. I’m so happy for both of you.”

As I cling to Sara’s neck and fight the happy tears, I feel Gage’s tiny fingers creep around my leg, followed by Lily’s.

So, here I stand, just minutes away from seeing West, resisting the urge to burst through the door and sprint to him. Nothing can ruin this day.

“Lily and Gage, come with me please.” The screechy voice is like a needle scraped across record.

“Christ, who let
her
in here?” Marlo mutters under her breath, while giving Kimberly, Cain’s new girlfriend, the stink eye. Her too tight dress, 5-inch heels, and bright red, collagen filled lips scream “I’m trying too hard” … or maybe they’re saying “I’m a conniving little tramp”. It’s hard to say.

“Kim, I’ll round them up in just a few minutes and bring them to Adam, okay?” Celia voice sounds weak and defeated.

“It’s Kimberly, not Kim, and Cain told me they need to come now.” Kimberly crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows in a silent challenge to Celia.

Celia concedes without a fight, lowering her head and shrinking, which is not surprising. Ever since Cain started dating Kimberly, Celia has become withdrawn, begging off on most get-togethers. When she does show up, she and Cain stay on opposite ends of the room. I’m not sure what transpired between them, because neither one is talking.

“I’ll bring them to Adam in just a few minutes, Kimberly. Tell Cain I have everything under control. Thank you, though,” Sara says in a stern voice, leaving no room for argument. She turns her back to Kimberly, effectively dismissing her, and holds Lily and Gage’s hands possessively.