Page 57 of DFF: Delicate Freakin’ Flower (Family Ties #5)

Gabby

T he dogs were a full-on disaster. A cute, wiggly, tongue-lolling disaster.

Raven, steady and proud on three legs, tugged at the leash like she was leading a tactical mission through downtown Winter Park.

Meanwhile, Sage and Shelby—her two chaos goblin daughters—kept tripping over each other and trying to launch coordinated attacks on Webb’s shoelaces.

The last one, Stella, was addicted to Webb and didn't mind nipping me if she felt I was hogging his attention.

“Shelby, no! Sage, you’re not supposed to bite your sister’s ear! Oh my God.” I was already laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.

Webb just grunted and tried to untangle himself from his latest tussle with Stella. “This is like trying to walk four gremlins on caffeine.”

I glanced down at Raven, who looked positively regal next to her unhinged children. “I still can’t believe you kept her.”

He shrugged his eyes on the puppies. “I couldn’t keep the raccoons.”

That made me stop mid-stride. “Excuse me?”

“Long story,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I had a moment where I thought I could tame them. I even gave one a name—Lancelot because he's a romantic knight for the ladies.”

I stared at him. “You named the raccoon?”

He grinned wider. “After the rescue, after the puppies… I don’t know. It just felt right.”

I shook my head, half in awe, half wondering how I’d fallen for a man who bonded with rogue animals and still had time to paint entire walls with professional precision.

As we turned onto a quieter street lined with boutique stores and cafés, I nudged his arm. “Can we go to the cabin soon?”

That made him stop and look at me curiously. “You wanna go back?”

“Of course. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, especially the bathroom.”

He burst out laughing, and I grinned. That bathroom had become a running joke and a silent promise between us.

“I made some updates to it while you were gone,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling. “Not gonna lie, it’s glorious now. Rainfall shower, heated floor, and Bluetooth speakers built into the wall. You’ll never leave.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You made upgrades to the sacred space?”

“Sacred doesn’t mean you can’t install tile you don’t hate.”

I laughed and bumped my shoulder against his. “I’ve thought about some changes too. But I really do love it there, it feels like ours.”

He softened at that, his eyes drifting ahead like he was already imagining us there. “It’s one of my favorite places, always has been. Gets me away from the noise and helps me breathe.”

We stopped to let the puppies wrestle near a low iron fence wrapped in ivy while Raven sat obediently beside me, tail wagging.

“I did set up a timed dog feeder outside the cabin, by the way,” Webb added casually. “I've put a camera on it and check it when I get alerts.”

I turned to him. “Wait, you’re feeding the raccoons remotely?”

He looked absurdly proud. “Yeah. It even unlocks with the app. Steve figured out if he stands on the little button, it dumps a whole bowl full of food. The only thing missing is expired sardines and cheese balls.”

I stopped walking entirely, looking at him with complete wonder while Shelby wrapped her leash around my ankles. “Webb, you absolute lunatic.”

He shrugged again, smiling like he’d just been awarded the Nobel Prize in Wholesome Chaos.

“Can I see the footage next time it pings?” I asked.

“You kidding? I've set everything up for you. I’ll add the app to your phone tonight.”

The dogs tugged forward again, pulling us toward the outdoor patio of a restaurant.

As we neared it, I pulled on his arm gently, stopping us just shy of the entrance.

The moment had hit me quietly, between puppy tugs and raccoon stories.

I looked at him, really looked at him, and felt something so big in my chest it made me ache.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my voice just above the hum of street noise.

He frowned, head tilting. “For what?”

“For everything. The house, the dogs, and this life you’ve given me. You didn’t have to do any of it, but you did, and it means more to me than I’ll ever be able to say.”

His brows twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to smile or kiss me. So, being the kind soul that I am, I helped him decide by reaching up and doing it for him, kissing him slow and deep while our insane dogs tugged around our ankles.

“I love you,” I breathed against his lips.

He held my face as if it were something breakable. “I love you more.”

We walked the last few steps to the table, and once the dogs had settled near our feet, I reached for his hand across the weathered wood surface.

“I never expected any of this,” I admitted, my fingers lacing through his.

“Not the house, not the space you made for me, not even the damn feeder for the raccoons. But it’s done something to me, Webb, mentally and emotionally.

Just knowing it’s there—that you’ve created this life for us—it’s changed something in me.

And I love being with you. I love this with you. ”

He leaned in, dark eyes steady on mine. “I needed it, too. Truth is, I didn’t even know how much until I started building it.

I’ve been living my life without anything real to hold onto, which was probably why I couldn’t settle.

But now I have it all, and that’s because of you.

” Then he smirked and added, “Also, I should probably warn you…I think I’m slightly allergic to dogs. ”

My head jerked at that. “What?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, rubbing his nose. “So, if I start sneezing or itching when they crawl all over me like I’m their jungle gym, don’t be surprised.”

I burst out laughing, startling Sage into toppling her water bowl.

“You’re such a mess.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your mess.”

And right then, with the sun warming my back, a cold drink in my hand, and three rambunctious puppies and their mom curled under the table, I realized I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

The call came mid-morning, just as I was trying to wrestle Sage out from behind the couch with a shoe in her mouth and half a roll of toilet paper glued to her side by static.

“Gabriella,” Gladys greeted, her voice bright and firm. “The wedding’s next week.”

I froze. “Next week?”

“Yes, sweetheart. And I want you to be my maid of honor.”

The rest of her sentence melted into the background as my brain tried to catch up.

“Wait—really?”

“Of course, really,” she replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re practically my daughter. And nobody else I trust is bossy enough to keep me from saying something snide to the officiant if he gets my name wrong.”

I laughed, my heart already warming. “All right, just tell me where and when.”

A few hours later, we were standing inside the prettiest little vintage bridal shop I’d ever seen.

The kind of place that smelled faintly of old books and rosewater, with lace hanging from every rack and soft jazz playing in the background.

The window display was full of understated gowns—pearls, illusion necklines, delicate beadwork, and not a single puffball skirt in sight. My kind of place.

Gladys stepped out of the fitting room in her third option, and I forgot how to speak for a second.

The gown was vintage-style perfection: long, lace sleeves, a scalloped neckline that framed her collarbones beautifully, and a slim, floor-length skirt that trailed into a soft, flowing train behind her. She looked like she belonged in an old black-and-white movie, glamorous and glowing.

She turned with a grin. “Well?”

“Elegant, beautiful, and completely you.”

She beamed at me. “Of course it is, I’ll take it.” Then she motioned to the rack beside the changing room. “Now it's your turn. I want you in something dramatic but tasteful. Corsets, long skirts, no glitter.”

I stepped into the dressing room and changed into the first one we'd chosen. When I came out in the navy dress she’d selected, I didn’t need a second opinion.

The bodice was a deep navy corset that hugged my torso snugly but comfortably, structured just enough to give me shape without turning me into a Victorian pancake.

The skirt fell all the way to the floor in a gentle sweep, with just the right amount of poof to give it movement without turning it into a costume.

It was romantic. Classic. And something about the color made my skin glow.

I turned in front of the mirror, watching the way the fabric shifted like water, and then looked back at Gladys.

She stared at me, eyes a little glossy. “That’s the one,” she decided, walking over and taking my face in her hands. “Absolutely the one.”

Her touch was soft and grounding as she looked at me for a long moment. “Thank you for changing my life, Gabby.”

My chest tightened as I wrapped my arms around her and held on.

“As much as I hate your son and everything he and Maddox did,” I murmured, “I’m still grateful in a way. Because if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met Webb, and I wouldn’t have this life with you in it.”

She smiled, a mix of sadness and warmth all at once. “Isn’t it wild that out of something so ugly, something good could grow?”

We bought the dresses and walked down the block to a little café with tables under striped awnings.

Halfway through lunch, she suddenly snorted, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe we’re sitting here thanking my son for anything.”

I laughed into my drink. “It’s strange how life works that way. But, no offense, your son might be the biggest asshole of assholes.”

She cackled so hard people at the next table looked over. “I should get him a T-shirt with that printed on it and mail it to him in prison.”

I grinned. “You might not want to do that. They’ll be waiting for him to drop the soap.”

Gladys wheezed with laughter, clutching her chest. “Child, you keep going like that, I’m going to need a paramedic. I’m too old to be laughing this hard in public.”

I passed her a napkin, laughing with her until my stomach hurt. “That’s fair. Let’s save the t-shirt idea for his parole hearing.”

She wiped her eyes, still giggling. “Deal. But I’m still tempted.”

And as we sat there—two women bound by tragedy and love and laughter—I realized that despite everything, life had carved out something beautiful in the wreckage. And it was worth every second.