Annie. Why was this so nerve-wracking? Landon was the one. The only thing to calm me down right now was knowing that once I walked down that aisle, all eyes on me, I’d be standing next to him.
He nodded, picking up the bouquet of white lilies I’d left in a vase near the door, dabbing the water off the stems with a nearby napkin before handing it to me.
“Nervous?” He asked, stopping in front of me.
“I have a thousand butterflies moshing in my stomach,” I admitted.
“You’re not having— “
“No doubts,” I said firmly. There were none left, when it came to Landon.
“Then let’s do this,” Annie replied, pushing the door open and holding it wide. We stepped into the hall, where warm yellow light streamed through tall windows. It was fall, the leaves on the trees outside a crisp orange and red. But the skies were a vibrant, sunny blue.
My father led me toward the back door of the hall, a small side entrance tucked away in a corner. Annie strode behind me, her heels click-click-clicking on the hardwood floors.
When the doors opened, and I saw Landon standing at the front of the aisle, it felt right.
Today, I married my best friend.
Across the crowded ballroom, Landon was talking with his mother. She was beaming from ear to ear, swathed in a beautiful, pale pink dress.
She’d brought a date. Granted he was her neighbor and Landon had invited him, but we were both convinced his mom would eventually pick up on her neighbor’s interest. He’d even offered her some fresh cut roses from his garden. Fresh cut roses. He’d grown himself.
If she didn’t figure it out soon I was going to have to point it out to her.
“I’m sorry.”
The words were so softly spoken, I almost missed them amidst the buzz of the room. But when I turned to my brother, he was staring back at me.
“What?”
“I was wrong,” he said, twisting in his white wooden chair. He looked dashing in black tuxedo, a white lily pinned to the lapel. “He’s different with you.”
I swallowed, almost unable to believe what I was hearing. “How?”
“The way he looks at you. The way he can’t sit beside you without putting his hand on your knee, or over your hand.” He paused. “The way he gave up his company for you. He spent his life building Prestige and he gave it all away to be with you.”
A lump grew in my throat. I knew all this, but hearing it from my brother—knowing that even he could see the depth of Landon’s love for me, made me want to start crying.
Happy tears, of course.
“Thank you,” I whispered, because I wasn’t sure I could find my voice.
“Besides, he hasn’t looked at that blonde in the purple dress once.”
I glanced up, snorting as I spotted the girl my brother was talking about. Her dress had a halter-top, forcing her giant boobs halfway up to her chin.
I sipped at the champagne on the table, my crystal glass etched with Bride. “You’re such a pig.”
“I mean, if he’s not going to— “
“Go,” I said, shoving his shoulder. “Her name is Riley. She worked the closing shift at the vitamin kiosk. She just graduated from Pierce College and she’s a vet tech now. So pretend you don’t hate dogs.”
He furrowed his brow. “I don’t hate dogs.”
“Then it won’t take much faking,” I said, grinning.
He shook his head as he left, taking his drink with him and sauntering across the floor, straight toward the set of breasts he’d been eyeballing all night.
He paused along the way, intercepting Landon as he made his way back to the table. They talked for a moment, and then hugged, and not in the silly bro way. They truly embraced, Landon slapping Matt on the back a few times before they parted.
Matt said something else, causing Landon to glance over at Riley before grinning and shaking his head, muttering something that looked like good luck.
And then he was back, standing in front of me. I could hardly believe this gorgeous man, in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo was truly my husband.
“Care to dance?”
We already had, of course, getting all of the formal dances out of the way after dinner. Landon had suggested we take ball room lessons over the last few months, something I’d taken to with glee.
He extended his hand as the song shifted, and I smirked.
“Bruno Mars fan?” I joked, as uptown funk blasted from the speakers.
“Mrs. Hill, I demand that you dance with