Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I pass Ripley over to my groom.
“Morning.” Maximoff leans in, kissing me lightly. “You’re still doing that thing at breakfast?”
I see Thatcher take a seat at the table in my peripheral. “Yeah, I’ll be a minute.”
Encouragements fill his eyes. “I’ll get you an omelet.”
I walk backwards, my smile expanding. “He knows what I want to eat. It’s like he’s so obsessed with me.”
Maximoff flips me off playfully and Ripley grabs onto his middle finger. We laugh, and I tap into all my strength to rotate and leave for a different table across the courtyard.
Warm air swirls around the stone patio in a pleasant breeze. Maximoff is right about one thing. I do have a Band-Aid method, and I haven’t overthought this part of the wedding.
Not once.
“Lily?” I reach the Calloway sisters’ table, and every woman turns at the exact same time and looks at me.
“No dicks allowed,” Rose says icily and waves me off.
“Rose,” Lily chastises with a mouthful of pastry.
I skate my tongue over my teeth, brows raised. Extremely amused. They actually all know why I’m approaching Lily right now.
“What?” Rose snaps. “He’s not immune just because he’s marrying your son. I’d say the exact same if my own husband tried to worm his way over here.” She cringes at him in the distance. “Ugh, he’s looking at us.”
Daisy wags a donut towards me. “Breakfast?”
“Thanks, but I’m okay.” I smile at Lily who wipes crumbs off her lips. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Somewhere private?”
“Yeah, of course.” Lily springs up and brings a water glass on our journey down a stone path. “Does my hair look greasy?” She runs her fingers through the brown strands, cut short at her collarbones. “I washed it this morning but it has the flat ‘uh-oh’ look.”
I’ve seen her hair greasy, and that’s not close. “It looks good.” I extend an arm over her shoulders, and she hugs me around the waist.
For a second, I remember the years I spent protecting Lily.
Good days.
Better years.
But I can’t lie, here and now with her son is my favorite time I’ve ever lived, and I have a feeling she’d be perfectly happy with that.
We stop inside a secret garden. White rose vines crawl up trellises, and pomegranate trees curve around a bubbling fountain. I haven’t exactly planned out this moment word for word.
I go off the cuff. “I asked your sisters if I should bring this up to you before we left Philly, and they said I should do it here.”
“Okay…” She sips water, eyes widening more. “Should I be nervous?”
“No.” I rest my boot on a wooden bench. Casual, but my pulse cranks a notch. I didn’t expect to be nervous.
At all.
Lily swallows more water. She seems good. Healthy, cheerful. I can’t tell if it’s because we invited Grandmother Calloway or something else, but I’m glad she’s at a better place.
How do I say this?
I comb two hands through my hair. “Okay.” I exhale a breath. “So I never had a chance to really know my mom.”
She nods firmly, listening carefully.
“And I like to think she would’ve loved me like you do. No stipulations, no requirements. Just because I exist.” My eyes burn.
Lily wipes at tears in her watery gaze and nods me on.
“I admire you, and I think you’ve raised strong as hell children, just like you are. They’re extremely lucky to have you as a mom.” I get choked up and clear my throat.
“You’re my son too,” Lily suddenly professes, tears streaming down her round face. “You know that, right, Farrow? You’re a part of this family forever.”
Fuck. I rub the heel of my palm over my cheek, tears slipping out. I swallow an emotional knot, and I just tell her, “I’d really love for you to walk me down the aisle.”
Lily nods rapidly. “Yes.” She wipes at her face. “I’d be honored.”
I smile through a glassy sheen in my eyes and hug Lily. Quietly, I tell her, “Later tonight, Maximoff is asking Lo to walk him down the aisle.”
Lily covers her eyes, overcome. “He’ll love that.”
There are wedding staples that I tossed out. Like the traditional walk-up-the-single-aisle to the groom. We make our own rules.
There are two processions on either side of seated guests. Maximoff and I are both walking.
And we’ll meet in the middle.
35
FARROW KEENE
“Open the terrace doors,” I tell Maximoff, both of us sweating in the furnace-hot bedroom. I was about to put pajamas on Ripley, but he’s a little warm. And his tears might be from the heat. Ditching the onesie, I leave him in a diaper.
Maximoff walks the length of the room, only in drawstring pants. “This isn’t against security protocol?” He unlatches the glass doors, a cool breeze immediately busting through. Drapes on the four-poster bed whoosh and swish with the gusts.
Better.
“Don’t worry about security,” I tell him. “The villas are safe.”