Page 31 of Secrets of the Past (Secrets of Mustang Island #3)

T he chapel looked smaller than she remembered.

White clapboard walls glowed in the lantern light, the stained-glass windows reflecting a dozen flickering votives.

The pews smelled of polish and old wood, the faint scent of lilies drifting from bouquets Paige had managed to charm out of the florist.

It was the same chapel where she and Tripp had stood twenty years ago, trembling with the thrill of first love, reckless enough to believe it was enough. The place where it had all begun, and where it had all been stolen.

Tonight, she was taking it back.

Her girlfriends were everywhere, orchestrating chaos.

Paige stood at the front pew, water glass in hand like a queen’s scepter.

“Amanda, those ribbons are a disaster. Fix them. Jennifer, for the love of God, straighten that veil. And Crystal, stop waddling like a martyr. Sit down before you topple.”

Crystal ignored her, belly-first, directing the placement of flowers with the authority of a general. “Left. More left. Yes, good. Perfect.”

Amanda stuck her tongue out. “Bossy pregnant people are terrifying.”

Nicole laughed softly, the sound shaky but real. “You’re all insane.”

“Insanely devoted,” Paige said smugly. “Now quit fussing. You’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like marrying the man you never stopped loving.”

Nicole’s throat tightened. Her heart thumped so hard, she thought it might burst right out of her chest.

Tonight felt different, sacred, as if this was the night that would stitch everything back together.

The past, the future, their very lives seemed to converge in this single moment.

It felt better than their first wedding, richer, though touched with the strangeness of all they had endured to get here.

And she loved every fragile, beautiful second of it.

It wasn’t a beginning or an ending, it was coming home.

Then her parents entered quietly. Her father looked older, his shoulders stooped, but his eyes, when they met hers, were filled with something she hadn’t seen in years: pride.

Her father stepped forward, voice rough. “Nicole… may I, may I walk you down the aisle this time?”

Tears pricked hot behind her eyes. She had dreamed of this moment, but never thought it would come. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”

It felt right, like the first fragile step toward forgiveness.

Her father’s voice softened, carrying the weight of years they’d all lost. “You know, Tripp came to your mother and me and asked for your hand in marriage. And we told him we were thrilled. It’s time to put the past behind us and heal, Nicole.

Time for you and Tripp to create your future together.

And I can’t wait to see the grandchildren you’ll give us. ”

The words cracked something open inside her. A sob slipped past her throat, raw and unguarded. He was right. It was time, time to stop bleeding from old wounds, to step into the future with Tripp, and finally leave the past where it belonged.

She wouldn’t let the past steal one more day of their future.

Her father’s grip was steady when she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. He leaned close, his words a confession. “I’m sorry, Nic. For the money. For the lies. For letting them tear you apart. We thought we were protecting you. We weren’t. We were cowards.”

Her tears spilled freely now. “I know, Daddy. And I forgive you.”

Her mother’s hand trembled as she pressed a handkerchief into Nicole’s free hand. “You look beautiful, sweetheart. Don’t mess up your makeup crying.”

“I don’t think I can keep from crying. This day has been so long in arriving.”

Music began, Amanda’s phone hooked to a tiny speaker, and the small crowd rose. Nicole took her first step down the aisle, her father beside her, and there was Tripp waiting at the altar.

He looked devastatingly handsome in his simple suit, his tie loose, his eyes locked on hers as though no one else existed. Her knees nearly gave beneath her, but her father held her steady.

Step by step, she walked toward the man she had loved since she was sixteen.

Her father squeezed her hand, then placed it in Tripp’s.

“Take care of her,” he said softly.

“I will,” Tripp vowed, his voice breaking.

The officiant, a kind woman from the island who had been hastily called in, welcomed everyone, but Nicole hardly heard her. She could only hear the sound of Tripp’s breathing, could only feel the warmth of his hand gripping hers.

The officiant smiled at the gathered friends and family, her voice rising clear against the hush. She gave a quick lecture on the sanctity of marriage and love before she asked the question that Nicole dreaded.

“If anyone here knows a reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Nicole’s breath caught. She knew this moment. Twenty years ago, no one had spoken, but later, voices had destroyed them anyway.

And then the doors creaked and slammed.

The entire congregation turned.

Suzanne Masterson walked in, pearls gleaming at her throat, her face pale but proud. Nicole’s blood ran cold. The silence was so deep that Nicole could hear her own pulse hammering.

Suzanne’s eyes locked on her son. For a long, unbearable moment, she said nothing. Then, to everyone’s shock, her voice cracked through the stillness.

“I object,” she said, and the chapel gasped.

But she didn’t stop there.

“I object to what I did twenty years ago. To the lies. To tearing you apart. To thinking I could buy and bully my way into controlling your happiness.” Her voice faltered, her shoulders sagging.

“I was wrong, Dustin. I thought I was saving you, but all I did was destroy the one thing that ever truly mattered. You once asked me if I had ever loved. The truth is, I did. You, my son, you were the one I loved. And I was wrong…so wrong…to destroy your trust.”

Nicole’s chest clenched. Tripp’s grip on her hand tightened like a vow.

Suzanne’s gaze shifted to Nicole then, softening in a way Nicole had never seen. “I was wrong about you too. You loved him when you were a girl, and you love him still. That kind of devotion isn’t weakness. Its strength. And I was too proud to see it.”

The chapel buzzed with whispers, but all Nicole saw was Tripp, his jaw hard, his eyes fierce as he turned to face his mother.

“This is Nicole,” he said, his voice ringing with power. “My wife. My family. If you can accept her, you’ll still have me. If you can’t, then leave and don’t come back. But hear me, Mother, this marriage stands. Tonight, tomorrow, always. No one will ever take her from me again.”

The words struck like a gavel. The crowd seemed to lean in, breathless.

Suzanne’s lips trembled. For a heartbeat, she looked like she might collapse under the weight of it. Then she gave a slight, shaky nod. Not triumph, not approval, but surrender.

“I won’t stand in your way again. You have my blessing,” she whispered. Then she sank slowly into a pew.

Nicole’s chest heaved, her tears threatening anew. Tripp turned back to her, his eyes steady, fierce. He had chosen. Publicly. Irrevocably. The officiant cleared her throat softly. “Let us continue.”

When it came time for vows, Tripp went first.

“I chose you then, Nicole Reyes,” he said, his voice steady though his eyes shimmered. “I choose you now. And I’ll keep choosing you every day we’re given. No more secrets. No more shadows. Just us, together, as it always should have been.”

Her tears fell freely, spilling down her cheeks. “You were my first love, Tripp Masterson. My only love. They tried to take it from us, but they never could. My heart remembered. My soul remembered. And I am yours. Forever.”

The officiant nodded, smiling. “By the power vested in me… I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

The chapel erupted in applause as Tripp pulled her into his arms and kissed her, a kiss that erased twenty years of pain. Her friends whooped, Crystal sobbed, Amanda yelled, “Finally!” and Jennifer snapped a picture with her phone.

A few minutes later, they burst through the doors, laughter tangled with tears, birdseed and flower petals raining down from their friends. And there, parked at the curb, sat a cherry-red Mustang convertible, gleaming under the lamplight.

Nicole gasped. “Tripp… it looks just like yours.”

He grinned, tugging her toward it. “That’s because I hunted one down. Thought we might need it tonight.”

Her heart swelled until she thought it might split. They climbed in, her veil fluttering, his jacket tossed aside. When he revved the engine, the familiar growl sent a thrill down her spine.

Someone had tied Coke cans to the back and painted just married on the back window.

As they sped away from the chapel, from the shadows of the past and into the bright unknown, Nicole leaned close, laughter bubbling through her tears.

Twenty years ago, they’d run from the world. Tonight, they ran toward it.

Together.