Page 88 of Vance

Romy crashes into my legs, wrapping her arms around my knees. “Up!” she demands, reaching for me with sticky hands. “Up!”

I lift her, feeling the solid weight of her when she settles against my hip. She smells like maple syrup and baby shampoo as I press a kiss to her temple, looking past her to where Vance has stopped at the edge of the deck. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a white button-down, both sleeves rolled to his elbows, and he looks... nervous.

“Pretty,” Romy announces, pointing toward the boathouse with a chubby finger. “Daddy said pretty. Flowers!”

Vance climbs the steps to the deck slowly, his eyes never leaving mine with something in his expression I can’t quite read. When he reaches us, he tucks a curl behind Romy’s ear. “There’s something I want to show you,” he shares. His voice is rough with an emotion he isn’t bothering to hide. “Will you come with me?”

I should ask questions, but it isn’t every day I see my husband nervous. Or that he asks for something instead of demanding it. I nod, setting my coffee aside, slipping my hand into his.

He leads us around the side of the house, toward the boathouse, and my breath catches in my throat. The dock has been transformed. A white silk runner stretches down the center, fluttering gently in the breeze, with rows of white chairs lining both sides of the weathered wooden planks, facing the water. A simple wooden arch stands at the end. Roses, peonies, and trailing greenery spill over it, their soft blooms framing the glittering lake beyond.

“What...” My voice breaks. I turn to Vance, watching me with such hope and vulnerability that my own eyes fill with tears. “Vance, what is this?”

He sets Romy down—she immediately toddles toward Cora, who scoops her up with a laugh—and takes both my hands. His thumbs stroke my knuckles, back and forth, a soothing rhythm that belies the intensity in his eyes.

“You never got a wedding,” he says simply. “You got a courthouse. A contract. A man who didn’t deserve you.” He pauses, his jaw tightening. “I can’t give you back those first months. I can’t erase the way I treated you. But I can give you this. I can give you the wedding you should have had. To a man you want to marry. With the promises I should have made from the beginning.”

Tears of happiness stream down my face. “You planned this?”

“For months,” he admits, a small smile breaking through his seriousness. “Cora and Kiki helped. Romy has been practicing for weeks.”

I laugh, the sound watery and overwhelmed, and throw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. “I love you,” I whisper against his skin.

“I love you more,” he murmurs, the familiar refrain settling into my bones. “Will you marry me, sweetheart? Again? Properly, this time?”

“Yes.” I pull back to look at him, at this man who has become my everything. “I’ll marry you. Again.”

The dress Kiki helps me into an hour later is soft and flowing, ivory lace that drapes over my curves and trails behind me in a whisper of fabric. It’s romantic, feminine, and absolutely perfect. Well, after a few last-minute alterations from the seamstress. Kiki fastens the last button, her hands gentle as her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “You look beautiful. And so happy.”

“I am.” I smile at her reflection. “I didn’t know I could be this happy.”

She hugs me from behind, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Looks like Romy’s ready,” Kiki says, stepping back to wipe away her tears.

I turn to find my daughter standing in the doorway, clutching a small basket of rose petals, her dark curls pinned back with ivory ribbons, her dress a miniature version of mine. She is beautiful, the best parts of both Vance and I combined.

“Pretty,” she announces, looking at herself. “I pretty.”

“Very pretty,” I agree, crouching down to her, adjusting a ribbon. “Are you ready to help Mommy and Daddy?”

She nods, then her face breaks into a grin. “Cake?”

“Definitely cake,” I promise.

Kiki takes Romy’s hand, and I follow them out of the house and down the path, toward the dock, music swelling as we approach.

Vance stands at the end of the aisle, beneath the arch of flowers. The sight of him stops me in my tracks. He’s in a midnight-blue suit, tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders. He watches me approach with an expression of such possession that my heart nearly bursts.

I walk toward him alone, past his family. Kaden catches my eye and gives the smallest dip of his head, a gesture of acceptance that I once thought I’d never receive. When I reach Vance, he takes both my hands as the officiant speaks about love and commitment. Words I barely hear, lost in my husband’s eyes.

“I’m not good at this,” Vance begins his vows. “At softness and pretty words. But you know that. You’ve always known that.” His thumbs press into my palms, grounding us both. “I don’t deserve you, but for reasons I’ll never understand, you loved me anyway. And with it, you’ve given me a life I didn’t know I wanted.”

He swallows hard, his eyes dark and intense. “I vow to protect you. To provide for you. To be the man you need, even when I fall short. I vow to raise our daughter with you.”

He pauses, his jaw tightening as though the next words are harder to say than the rest.

“And I vow to spend the rest of my life reminding you that you were never a choice for me. There is only you, sweetheart.” His voice drops, rough with emotion. “There has only ever been you. I love you, Sophia.”

Choked by the sentiments in his gruff admission, I can’t speak for a moment. “Vance,” I say, finally finding my voice. “You aren’t the man I married three years ago. That first year had its ups and downs, to put it lightly, but even then, I saw something in you that you couldn’t see in yourself. I fell in love with you because, beneath all your walls and control, you have the most loyal, devoted heart I have ever known.”