My husband. The man I’d marry, again, and was shopping for the dress now.
We’d fallen into a wonderful rhythm, not even missing a beat once the season started. I went to as many games as I could—both home and away—all while working with Silas on the new charity as well as planning this wedding with my mother.
A beautiful, steady stream of delightful chaos. That’s what my life had become since marrying Cannon that fateful night in Vegas, and I honestly didn’t regret it for one second.
Seeing Mom like this? Out and about and so damn happy? A much-added bonus.
Though, a prick of cold pinched me when I thought about the truth—that my mother was Cannon’s sole motivation for re-marrying me and staying married for a time. To bring her joy—as a gift to me—before her final days. The kidney donor list was lengthy, and it didn’t matter how much money we had—Mama would never use her status, power, or wealth to try and hop the line.
“May I try this one on, please?” I asked Luna, needing the task to distract me from the thoughts I tried to keep locked away.
“Absolutely,” she said, taking the gown.
“And this one too,” Mom added, handing her another. “You want to see your options.”
I nodded. We’d already been to four other dress shops. I was beyond exhausted, but I hadn’t clicked with one yet.
“I’ll go get these set up in a room for you,” Luna said, and Mom followed her.
Echo’s phone rang, and she jolted again, eying us. “This is the babysitter! I’ll be right back!” She hurried out to take the call, and I smiled. Motherhood was so beautiful on her.
“I like her,” Father said as he followed me to the dressing room where Mom and Luna chatted.
“I’m glad,” I said, pausing. “She’s wonderful.”
“But?” Father urged, reading my hesitance easily.
“I wonder why you can’t extend the same attitude to Cannon?” Echo had just as many tattoos as him, and even more piercings. Her style and demeanor was close to his—despite their stories being totally different.
“Echo isn’t marrying my daughter,” he grumbled.
“Try married.”
“Trying to forget it.”
I sighed.
“Echo has a plan,” he continued. “Cannon doesn’t.”
“How would you know?” I countered. “You’ve barely spoken to him!”
“What happens when he slows down? Huh? What happens when he gets hurt? How will he take care of you then?”
I arched a brow at him. “Father, I haven’t needed a man to take care of me in quite some time.”
“I understand that, Sephie,” he said, his voice softening. “I love you. I’ve loved you and cared for you and worried about you since the day you took your first breath.” He swallowed hard. “I want you to have the best life possible. And, I’m sorry, sugar, but I don’t know if Cannon can give you that.”
Something like a blow hit me in the chest. “Why?”
“His history is bloody. Violent. Darkness you shouldn’t have to deal with.”
I shook my head, my shoulders sinking. “You should know that those aren’t the only pieces of him. You should trust me and my choices.”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but I didn’t wait for his response. I hurried into the dressing room where Mom waited anxiously perched on the cushioned bench next to the mirror.
“You want to talk about it?” she asked softly as I unbuttoned my sundress.
“Not really,” I admitted. There was no point. Father would learn to accept Cannon, or he wouldn’t. Especially since he’d leave once…well, once all was said and done.
Then why are you fighting so hard to defend him.
Good question. Yet another I filed away.
“Your sister came by the house yesterday,” Mom said.
I hissed. “And?”
“She apologized to us. And to Gerald.”
“Funny, I never got an apology.”
“I think she’s afraid to speak to you. She’s so ashamed.”
“As she should be,” I said, stripping down to nothing but my undergarments. I stepped lightly into the first gown, and Mom hopped up to help me zip the back.
I looked in the mirror, eying it. Pretty, but…
“Not the one,” she said and unzipped it again.
I stepped out of it, smiling at her. I loved that we were both on the same page. Loved that she could tell what I loved and what I didn’t.
“Anne will come around,” Mom said as I grabbed the other dress. “She needs to be loved harder. I’m not sure why, but she does. We have to do our best to not give up on her. Time goes so fast, and there isn’t much left and—”
I cut her off with a hug. “Mom,” I said, needing her to stop. “I will forgive her, I promise.” I could tell she was worried her daughters would still not be speaking, and she’d leave this earth with unfinished business—because she took our fights on as her own, being our Mama.
Mom straightened and nodded. “Enough about that. Let’s get this one on. I have a good feeling about it.”