Page 14

Rowan

The ceremony is starting in twenty minutes, and I can't seem to get this damn bowtie straight. I've tied it three times, but it keeps coming out crooked. I could blame it on nerves, but the truth is, I've never been more certain of anything in my life.

"Need some help there, Romeo?" Fox appears in the doorway of the guest suite, already perfectly dressed in his best man tuxedo.

"Please," I say, dropping my hands in defeat. "How are you so good at this?"

Fox steps forward, his usually stoic face softened by a rare smile. " I guess all that military training didn’t go to waste.”

As he fixes my tie with practiced efficiency, I glance out the window at the historic inn's grounds. The ceremony space overlooking the bay is decorated with white chairs and an arch woven with cedar branches and wildflowers. Guests are already being seated, a mix of our families, colleagues, and townspeople who've become friends over the past year.

"Nervous?" Fox asks, stepping back to inspect his handiwork.

"Not about marrying her," I answer honestly. "Just about tripping over my words during the vows."

He chuckles. "You've faced down angry clients and building inspectors. You can handle saying 'I do' without passing out."

"Speaking of passing out, is Cole recovered from last night?"

"He's downing coffee like it's the elixir of life, but he'll make it." Fox hands me my jacket. "Your future father-in-law is keeping him company, sharing hangover cures from his college days. But he swears it’s your fault for not telling him Mabel Maxwell was attending your wedding. Seeing her at the rehearsal dinner blew his mind."

“She’s my cousin––of course, she’d be here. Besides, they broke up fifteen years ago. Who knew he’d still be nursing a broken heart?” I shake my head and check my cuff links. “I just hope he’s not embarrassing me in front of Cilla’s dad.”

I smile, thinking about how close Richard and I have become. That fishing trip a year ago had been the start of a genuine friendship. He'd given his blessing without me even having to ask, telling me over beers and the day's catch that he'd "never seen Priscilla so happy."

"Have you seen my bride?” I can't help asking.

Fox gives me a knowing look. "Yes, but Prue instructed me not to share information with you. She says it’s bad luck.”

My heart stutters in my chest. In a few minutes, I'll watch Cilla walk down the aisle toward me, and I still can't quite believe my luck.

"Your mom is already crying, by the way," Fox adds, adjusting his tie in the mirror. "Your dad's pretending he's not about to join her."

I laugh, picturing my stoic father fighting back tears. "They've been waiting for this day since I hit thirty. Mom was starting to think I'd never settle down."

"Can you blame her? Your dating history before Cilla was..."

"A disaster," I finish for him. "I know."

There's a knock at the door, and my father pokes his head in. "It's time, son."

I take a deep breath, straightening my shoulders. "How do I look?"

"Like a man about to get everything he's ever wanted," my father says, with a warmth that catches me off guard.

Fox claps me on the shoulder. "Let's go make an honest man of you."

The walk to the ceremony space feels surreal. Guests smile as I pass, but I barely register their faces. All I can think about is Cilla and the tiny secret we're keeping—our baby, growing inside her, just two months along. We decided to wait until after the honeymoon to share the news, wanting this day to be about our marriage, not impending parenthood, though sometimes I catch myself wanting to shout it from the rooftops.

I take my place under the arch, the bay stretching out behind me, sparkling in the afternoon sun. My mother dabs at her eyes in the front row. Next to her, Cilla's mother looks equally emotional, though she's holding it together with the characteristic Griffin restraint.

The string quartet begins playing, and the first down the aisle is Prue, lovely in deep blue, followed by Cilla's college roommate, Jenna. I notice Fox's eyes tracking Prue's every move and hide a smile. Those two have been dancing around each other for months now.

Then the music changes and everyone rises. The moment stretches like taffy, and then—there she is.

Cilla stands at the end of the aisle on her father's arm, and I forget how to breathe. Her dress is simple and elegant, falling in soft waves to the ground, her auburn hair swept up with a few curls framing her face. She looks like something out of a dream, but the smile she gives me is pure Cilla—slightly lopsided, completely genuine, and just for me.

As she walks toward me, I remember the day she moved to Cedar Bay and how I'd fallen for her before she'd even finished unloading her car. How those dachshunds of hers had tangled their leashes around her legs. How she'd resisted my charm for weeks until I finally won her over.

Richard places Cilla's hand in mine when they reach me, and I feel a slight tremor in her fingers.

"Hi," she whispers, and I can see in her eyes she's thinking about our secret, too.

"Hi yourself, Dr. Griffin," I murmur back, pride swelling in my chest for her recently completed dissertation.

"Not quite yet," she reminds me with a wink.

"Soon enough."

The officiant begins the ceremony, but I'm only half listening. I'm too busy memorizing every detail of this moment—the way the sunlight catches in Cilla's blue eyes, how Birdie and Brody sit attentively in their doggy tuxedos beside Prue, the scent of cedar and salt air mingling with the flowers. My entire life has led me to this woman, this moment, and I can't help but feel that all my past mistakes were worth it because they brought me here.

Cilla squeezes my hands, and I pull the folded paper from my pocket. My hands are surprisingly steady as I unfold it, but my voice wavers slightly when I begin.

"Cilla, before you moved in next door, I thought I knew what I wanted from life. What I didn't know was that I was waiting for you—for your brilliance, your kindness, your stubborn determination to see the best in people, even grumpy contractors who wouldn't stop knocking on your door."

She laughs softly, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I promise to be your constant, your safe harbor. I promise to support your dreams and ambitions and to be your partner in all things. And I promise—" my voice catches, and I have to take a breath before continuing, "I promise to help build a home and a family filled with as much love and laughter as you've brought into my life."

I fold the paper back up, slipping it into my pocket. "I love you, Dr. Griffin-to-be. More than I knew it was possible to love another person."

Her eyes shimmer with tears, but her smile is radiant as she takes out her own vows. Her hands tremble slightly, and I know it's not just wedding nerves—morning sickness has been hitting her hard this week, though she's powering through it with typical Cilla determination.

"Rowan," she begins, her voice clear despite the emotion in her eyes. "When I moved to Cedar Bay, I had a plan. Finish my dissertation, teach my classes, walk my dogs, and absolutely, positively not fall in love with the handsome contractor down the street."

The crowd laughs, and I can't help grinning.

"But you've taught me that the best parts of life are the ones we don't plan for." Her hand drifts briefly, unconsciously, to her stomach before she catches herself. "You built more than houses—you built a space in my heart I didn't know was empty. You taught me that being serious about my work doesn't mean I can't be serious about love, too."

She takes a steadying breath. "I promise to be your harbor in every storm. I promise to challenge you when you need to be challenged and support you when you need support. I promise to build our life together with the same care and attention to detail that you put into everything you create."

When we exchange rings, her hands are steady, but mine shake slightly.

"By the power vested in me," the officiant says, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

I cup Cilla's face gently in my hands and kiss her, trying to pour everything I'm feeling into that one gesture. When we break apart, her cheeks are flushed, and there's that look in her eyes that still makes my heart race after all this time.

We turn to face our guests, who erupt in applause. Birdie and Brody start barking in excitement, and someone—probably Cole—lets out a wolf whistle.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the officiant announces, "I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Rowan and Priscilla Malone."

As we walk back down the aisle together, rice and flower petals showering us from all sides, I can't help but lean down and whisper in her ear.

"How are you feeling? You and...the little hitchhiker?"

Cilla squeezes my hand, her smile radiant. "We're both perfect. Though your child is already demanding snacks. I'm starving."

"Well, Mrs. Malone, let's get you two fed."

She wrinkles her nose slightly. "That's Dr. Griffin-Malone to you, mister."

"I stand corrected," I laugh, pulling her closer as we make our way to the reception tent.

As we take our seats, I notice Birdie and Brody have been given places of honor near Cilla's parents, each with a small plate of what appears to be specially prepared dog-friendly wedding food. My mother-in-law catches me looking and gives an elegant shrug that clearly says, "What did you expect?"

The End