At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,113

baby onesies he wants.

“It’s not that much of a scandal!” I smile at my aunt. “I was already married when I got pregnant.”

“Yes, but…” She grimaces and clutches the cross that hangs around her neck. “The pictures! It’s going to look like a shotgun wedding! What will people think?”

“That Donovan and I are very much in love. Shall we?”

She sighs. “We shall.”

Arm in arm, we emerge from the tent. She’s clutching her cane, still a little weak. In front of the altar are dozens of chairs on either side of the aisle, with both of our families present and beaming with happiness. Constantine is sitting next to Carrie’s empty seat while she snaps pictures of us. She’s wearing a giant rock on her finger. Graham and Jamie are sitting side by side, holding hands. Turns out that those two quirky characters are the perfect kind of weird for each other.

Of course, once Graham and Donovan had opened up their new office in Greenvale, with a special focus on designing equipment for vineyards and breweries, it was a lot easier for Graham to court Jamie. They still have to travel back to L.A. to the main office from time to time, but you can do a lot with telecommuting these days.

Chief Shaughnessy’s there with the rest of the Shaughnessy family. I think he just wants final proof that the Ribaldi-Witlocke feud is over. Murray’s nowhere to be seen, of course. He had to declare bankruptcy after the sale fell through. We were never able to pin my car sabotage on him, but everyone in town knew what he’d done, and he instantly became a social pariah. And Heather’s nothing but an unpleasant memory; she packed her bags and left the same day the real estate deal fell through, moving on to parts unknown. Murray left town not long after.

Far off in the distance, we can hear the sound of construction. Constantine invested in the subdivision, and now two hundred and twenty-five ecologically friendly homes are being built on the land bordering our farms. Donovan wanted to try to halt construction during the wedding, but it just wasn’t practical. And it doesn’t matter. Nothing could make this day any less magical.

As we make our way towards the aisle, Uncle Vito steps up, and I take his arm so he can walk me down the aisle.

A little flash of pain sparks in me, then dims. A tiny corner of my heart will always wish that I had parents who were part of my life. Linda’s waitressing in Madrid, and regularly sending messages begging me for money, even though it turns out she skimmed close to six figures from my trust fund over the years. I chose not to have her prosecuted for fraud in exchange for her agreeing to be removed as trust fund manager without a fight. Donovan’s taken to intercepting her messages and replying with a curt, “No.”

But today is glorious. The sun breaks through a ceiling of white clouds, and the wedding pergola that was built this weekend is festooned with grapevines and swags of gauze, and everyone I love is here. And the man of my dreams is waiting for me at the end of the aisle.

Sitting in the front row, Fernanda has Aceto on her lap. She insisted. Ducktape and Cleocatra are back at her house, but we gave them extra snacks.

The wedding march music begins. As if in a dream, I glide down the aisle with my uncle, and take my place by Donovan’s side. He beams down at me, and I return his smile as a sense of contentment wraps around me like a hug.

“Hello, lovely,” he whispers to me. “Team Rilocke for life.”

The pastor’s voice rings through the air. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

THE END

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You made it all the way to the end? You beauty, you! Hopefully you’re crying happy tears as those who deserve it get their HEAs and those who don’t get their comeuppance. If you’d like a special bonus scene that takes place five years in the future, well, I’ve got you covered! Click here: BookFunnel.

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About the Author

Kenzie Reed lives in beautiful New England and is addicted to happily ever afters. She lives with a pack of rescue dogs and is constantly in danger of adopting more. She has a black belt in sarcasm and makes the worst puns ever—just ask her kids.

She spends her days clearing dog fur from her keyboard and dreaming up snarky dialogue for sexy heroes. Her taste in books ranges from science fiction to thrillers to romantic comedy, and her bookcases have multiple personality disorder.

You can also check out her website: KenzieReed.com or visit her on Facebook: Facebook.com/Kenziereedauthor.