as Norah walks in with Ella, who has her acoustic guitar. She hardly goes anywhere without it these days. Patty and Nancy follow right behind, grinning. Delilah helps me smooth out my train as I meet them all halfway across the room where we’ve been getting ready. Norah’s eyes are already wet by the time I reach them. Mine are too. Thank goodness for waterproof mascara.
Norah hesitates rather than going for a hug. “I don’t want to wrinkle your beautiful gown,” she says.
“Nonsense.” I give her a tight squeeze, comforted by her warm scent, which has become familiar over the past two months.
Gavin, Ella, and I have spent many weekends visiting the ranch, and Norah moved into Gavin’s house temporarily to help with Ella. I’ve got a great new job. Not a director—yet—but I’ll get there. With the sale of Morgan-Beckwith, Gavin will be working from home while helping Ella settle into her new school and life in Austin. He has taken to fatherhood so naturally, so enthusiastically, that it’s given me a whole new reason to love him. As if I needed one.
And Ella has become the daughter I never would have expected or asked for. I’m still surprised by the way my life shifted so dramatically in just a few months. I wouldn’t change a thing.
After Nancy and Patty give me hugs and fuss over my makeup and hair, I’m left with Ella.
“Are you ready?” I ask her, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“I was born for this,” Ella says, looking every bit the precocious girl I met. Confident, and a little bit surly, like she can take on the world by herself.
I know better now. And when Abby distracts Norah with a hug, Ella leans close to me.
“What if I forget the words? Or sing a note wrong?”
I don’t blink or look away, not for a single moment. “You might forget the words, though I doubt it. You could sing off key, but I haven’t heard you do so once while practicing. If the worst thing happens and you forget the words and sing off-key, the rest of the song will still be beautiful. Your dad and I will still get married. And the next time you perform, it’s a fresh start. Okay?”
It’s a lot to let an eight-year-old sing a solo at a wedding. Especially when there are so many emotional factors at play. Gavin and I had some long discussions about the pros and cons.
But it was clear from the moment he put a guitar in her hands that music is a part of Ella, one that Eleanor didn’t foster. We aren’t going to ship her off to Nashville or anything, but honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s the direction she wants to go someday. Our own little Teffy. So, when Ella asked to sing at the wedding, we ultimately had to say yes.
“I’m so glad that you’re going to sing,” I tell her. “You’re going to blow everyone away.”
I’m toeing the line with her, the one that butts up against emotional overload. I can see it in the clench of her jaw and the glittering in her eyes. Ella needs to know how much we love her, but it’s also hard for her to take sometimes. Like everything else with the three of us, it’s a work in progress.
I step back, offering her a fist bump. With a grin, she touches her knuckles to mine. “I better go warm up,” she says.
“You’ll be great,” I tell her. “I can’t wait to hear you.”
Norah gives me one last hug. “I don’t want to ruin your makeup. So, I won’t tell you how much I love you. Or that you’re already a part of my family. But you are.”
I’m so choked up that when my dad appears in the doorway, I think I might lose it altogether. He’s barely keeping the tears back, and he doesn’t have to say how much we both wish Mom were here. It’s at that moment that Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” starts to play. I glance at Abby, who gives me a sheepish grin.
“You know I hate it, but you look like you could use a good Swifting. Love you, bestie.” She pats me on the bottom and gives my dad a quick kiss on the cheek. “Is it time for this wedding yet?”
I take my dad’s arm. We exchange a long glance, and I don’t think either of us could speak if we tried. There’s no need. We’ve said a