It's About Time (Blossom Peak #4)(2)
I’m getting married today.
Fletcher, my best man, stands behind me in his tux, looking at his phone. A smirk tugs at his lips as his eyes scan the screen.
“You look happier than me,” I say, and his head snaps up.
He shrugs, giving me a quick once-over before meeting my eyes again. “Yeah, not sure that’s possible.”
Crossing the room, he tucks his phone in his pocket and claps a hand on my shoulder. “You ready for this?”
I b low out a breath before spinning to face the mirror again. “I really fucking am, man. Tori is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Truth be told, getting married wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing after my grandparents died because their marriage was the only healthy example I’d ever seen. Even before their death, I’d watched my parents’ marriage change over the years, making me lose faith in the entire idea because I’ve seen the uglier side of holy matrimony. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve enjoyed my single life—different women, no responsibility or commitment, the ability to do whatever I want, whenever I want.
I do think people go into marriage with the best intentions—optimistic and full of hope that it will be different for them. Then reality slithers back in, so silently that you don’t notice until something’s already shifted, and then you realize that wanting something to last doesn’t always mean it will.
People change for the worse sometimes too. What you might want at twenty-five could change by thirty-five. And if you don’t marry someone who is willing to change with you, you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment.
But with Tori? I finally feel like I can have what my grandparents had, so I’m willing to take the leap.
We’re on the same page. We want the same things.
Well, mostly… She sort of had to talk me into having kids, but she made enough good points that I can now see how the benefits outweigh the cost—both literally and figuratively.
When my eyes land on Fletcher again in the mirror, I see him staring down at his phone once more, but this time there’s a pinch in his brow. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.
“What’s going on?”
Our eyes meet in the mirror and he plasters on a smile. “Nothing. Look, I’m gonna go check on a few things. You just hang tight, all right?”
Nodding, I watch him leave and then head toward the window that overlooks the courtyard of Hart Winery where the ceremony will take place in less than an hour.
Everything looks perfect, just the way Tori wanted it. My eyes land on George Hart, the owner of the winery and Rhonan and Laney’s dad, as he talks to Anabelle, the wedding coordinator by the arch decorated with burgundy and white flowers. George lost his wife twelve years ago and watching him go through that loss was another reason I wasn’t sure marriage was in the cards for me.
He and Elizabeth were two of the lucky ones—the people who found their other half, the person that complements them, the person that’s their best friend before everything else—and seeing how hard the grief hit him made me want to avoid falling for someone even more. Then Rhonan, his son and one of my other best friends, went through the same thing, and I dug in harder on my decision not to bother with marriage—because even if I found someone like that, the thought of losing them might just break me in two.
The only person I’ve ever lost that changed me was my grandfather, Henry Thorne. He was the one who started the Thorne Family Law Group, our legacy and the business that has held my family together for generations despite my father’s many indiscretions.
I became a lawyer to honor him, not my dad. He taught me everything it meant to be ethical and hardworking, to put others before yourself when it counts, and what it meant to be an honorable husband.
Not all men succumb to the demons lurking inside us.
The sound of the door opening behind me pulls my attention from the window. But when I spin around expecting to see Fletcher re-enter the room, I’m thrown off by the appearance of Rhonan instead, a crinkled paper in his clenched fist.
My eyes land on the clock on the back wall, and that’s when I realize I’d been staring out the window lost in my thoughts for almost thirty minutes.
“Is she ready?” The eagerness in my voice is almost embarrassing, especially as I bounce on my toes. But I’m on edge envisioning what Tori looks like in her dress, the one that she’s been teasing me about for weeks.
Rhonan clears his throat. “Uh, Elliot…”
The clench of his jaw makes my pulse spike. I take a step toward him. “What’s going on, Rhonan?”
The heaviness of his sigh infiltrates the silence in the room. All I can hear is my pulse in my ears now, waiting for whatever comes next.
“Elliot…Tori is…gone.”
And with those four words, my entire world falls apart.
***
“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone?”
Rhonan clears his throat. “She left, Elliot. She took off and…”
Shaking my head, I huff out a laugh. “No, you must be mistaken. Where’s Laney?” My hand moves for the doorknob, but Rhonan slides between me and the barricade separating me from finding my fiancée and proving my friend wrong.
His palm lands on my chest. “Elliot…”
“ Why the fuck would she leave, Rhonan? We’re…” I huff out another laugh as my anxiety builds. “We’re getting married…” My hand swings toward the window I was just daydreaming out of. “We’re…”