tones. I’d caught hints of despair. Then a pissed-off attitude at people’s expectations. And finally, excitement that she could pick whatever the hell she wanted, and she could afford it.
I didn’t care what she wore. As long as she said I do, I was a happy man, and I’d be happier when I stripped her out of it. To give her something to strip me out of, I’d ordered a tux.
Her gown was simple, a little lace diamond pulling the material tighter at her waist. A long V-neck with a softly flowing skirt, the dress hugged her body in all the best places. The cream color brightened under the sun and gave her an ethereal glow. Her long red hair shone in one long wave over one shoulder, and she’d even put on a touch of lip gloss I planned to kiss off as soon as we were pronounced man and wife.
This woman. My wife.
I’d never been so nervous in my life. So elated. So happy.
We breezed through our vows. As soon as the words You may kiss the bride drifted in the wind, I wrapped my arms around Bristol and claimed her. My brothers’ whoops mingled with the ones from Bristol’s friends.
I released my wife from my kiss but didn’t let her go. I gazed at the intimate crowd of family and friends and said, “Let’s eat!”
The next few hours were filled with laughter. We hadn’t planned a large reception, or a dance. The only music Bristol wanted at the wedding was the mooing of the cows in the pasture with the occasional whinnies of the horses. Bucket was at my place—our place. He had been ever since I’d convinced Bristol to come back. After we’d made all the love our bodies could handle, I’d helped her pack her meager belongings and moved her into my bedroom. Our bedroom.
Daisy was back in her bed in the living room. Bucket was with the other horses, but we’d kept the cattle separate. We were in the middle of interviewing new ranch hands to help with the combined King–Cartwright herd until we finalized plans for the sobriety ranch.
Bristol spent the evenings when we were relaxed in front of the TV gathering research on how those ranches operated. The next step would be to find a financial advisor to make sure the money lasted as long as possible and helped the highest number of people possible. Then we’d hire developers and search for staff.
She even had a name: Sarah’s Recovery Ranch. Bristol intended the ranch to be a working ranch, supporting itself so the money Mama had left behind could support the people.
As guests filtered out, my brothers and their wives cleaned up the food, then left. They’d all gotten motel rooms in town. Bristol and I had assured them that they could stay in their bedrooms like normal, but all of them had shuddered, claiming they didn’t want to be under the same roof as us on our wedding night.
Kendall caught a ride with Aiden and Kate. Dad lingered behind. The last guest. He finished up what was left of the dishes and bagged the garbage. The house didn’t look like it’d had twenty people roaming through it all day.
He put the bags by the door, then stood with his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “I have something for you two, but . . .” His brows pinched together. “I wasn’t sure when I should show you. If I should show you.”
He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and held it out. “It’s from your mother. She asked the lawyer to hold on to it until the trusts were all distributed. You both should read it.”
I stared at the paper. A letter from Mama?
My hands were unsteady as I opened it.
Dear Gentry,
I hope this letter doesn’t see the light of day and that I’m around to watch the amazing things our boys do with this money. But I just have a feeling, and you always tell me to go with my gut. So, honey, if you’re reading this, it’s your one and only I told you so.
You’re all probably wondering why I set up the trusts the way I did. I can’t say for certain either. I never liked what Mom and Dad did to the Cartwrights, and as the company grew, I watched Danny struggle. And because of it, Bristol is going to have a tough life.
I love that little girl. You and I