Anger at the idiot she’d been married to simmered within him, but Dawson pushed it away.
She nodded. “My year. My year with you.”
“I love you,” he said, in case she’d forgotten from that morning, when he’d picked her up at her house and told her. “And really, this is great news in a lot of ways.”
“Yeah, I know.” She smiled, and he caught sight of the first sight of happiness in her. “I can have a baby.”
“My baby.” Just the thought of being with her the way a husband was with his wife made Dawson’s head swim. Two more weeks, and they couldn’t pass quickly enough.
“And,” he added as he backed out of the parking space. “Your ex-husband did the world a favor by not allowing himself to procreate.”
For a beat of silence, Dawson thought maybe he’d gone too far. Then Charlotte’s laughter filled the car, and Dawson chuckled with her. “Sorry that was mean,” he said.
“Sometimes the truth hurts,” Charlotte said with a shrug. “And I feel like some of those spam rolls today. Doable?”
He swung the SUV in the direction of the restaurant she wanted. “Completely doable.”
“Stop fiddling with the tie.” Rich swatted Dawson’s hand away from his neck, which only increased Dawson’s annoyance. “It looks fine.” His older brother brushed something off Dawson’s chest. “You ready to get married?”
Dawson had been ready for a long time, and he felt that Charlotte was finally ready too. She’d planned everything right down to the last detail, and all Dawson had to do was show up at the right time—and that was fast approaching.
If only his tie would lie right…. He didn’t dare reach for it again though, and he nodded at his brother. “I’m ready.”
“Good.” He nodded toward the door. “Because Dad’s here, and that’s our cue.”
Dawson took one last look at himself in the mirror and one last deep breath. He’d never seen himself getting married, and ever since he’d met Charlotte, he couldn’t imagine staying single.
He walked out of the bedroom he’d once squatted in and through Charlotte’s dining room to the deck. She’d wanted a small, intimate affair, right there on the property she’d bought and claimed had changed her life, given her a fresh start.
Over the past year, her lawn and bushes and trees had flourished, but Dawson walked past all of it on his way toward the steps that led down to the beach. He felt eyes on him, but he didn’t turn and look up to the second-story windows, where he suspected Charlotte was watching him.
His brother and father followed him, and Dawson found they were the last to arrive at the elaborate setup he’d built with Charlotte over the past few days. He’d hauled two dozen chairs over from Your Tidal Forever, and set them up under a couple of white party tents.
The streamers were new, as Charlotte had attached them this morning, along with the pink, yellow, and teal ribbons woven through the back of the chairs and along the altar.
Dawson paused beside his mother and squeezed her hand while his brother and dad took their seats. Along with JJ and his wife, their baby, Stephen and his wife, and Wes and Nicole, Dawson’s family completed his guest list. Eleven adults, two toddlers, and three of the most beautiful little girls he’d ever seen.
“Uncle Dawson, your tie is crooked,” Lauren said, her hands folded properly in her lap.
Rich growled, but Dawson began tugging at it again. His tuxedo suddenly felt too confining too, as did having his family stay in his house for the next seven days while he and Charlotte went on their honeymoon to Europe.
When they got back, they’d just have time to trim the Christmas tree together before Christmas arrived.
He turned away from Rich, still trying to get the bowtie to lay flat, and came face-to-face with Charlotte’s family.
“You look so handsome, Dawson.” Her mother stood and gave him a hug. “I think you’ve met Wilma?”
He had, yes. Once, many years ago. And once yesterday, when he’d picked her up from the airport. Charlotte had hugged her, a smile on her face, but Wilma had seemed a bit stiff to him.
“Yes, of course.” He shook her hand again. “And her husband Gary.” They hadn’t brought their children, as if a wedding in Hawaii for Charlotte’s two nieces wasn’t necessary. “Hey, Harold.”
Charlotte’s brother was a good man, and he’d brought his whole family—wife, and two boys. They gave Dawson high-fives, and then her mom said, “Oh, I see Chris, Dawson. You better get in position.”
Yes, he better. He knew Charlotte would want him standing right where he’d promised he would be when she came down those steps. So he acknowledged her friends from work as he went toward the altar. Hope and Aiden Sorensen, though Aiden got up and moved through the sand with his camera so he could take pictures, sat with a few more girls from the wedding planning place.
He joined the preacher who also stood at the altar, and watched as his beautiful Charlotte came down the last few steps in her wedding dress and veil. Aiden’s camera went click, click, click, and Dawson took those mental pictures too.
The glow on her face, the smile radiating to their family and friends, and then as her eyes locked onto his. Her dress curved along her body, flaring slightly at the waist and falling in sleek, smooth lines toward the sand. She didn’t wear shoes, and her nearly transparent veil was pinned in her hair with a jeweled comb. She was absolutely gorgeous, inside and out, and Dawson almost thought there’d been a mistake. That she would be meeting a different groom.
A few more steps, and her father leaned down, whispered something in her ear, and passed Charlotte to Dawson.
He secured her hand against his side and whispered, “Wow, babe. You’re stunning.”
She emitted a tiny giggle and faced the pastor. He began the ceremony but didn’t wax poetic before saying, “The couple has written their own vows,” and taking a step back.
The spotlight fell on Dawson as he and Charlotte faced each other, both of her hands in his. He wanted to reach up and loosen that blasted tie. He couldn’t seem to find his voice, and he simply looked back at Charlotte.
“You’re first,” she said, almost under her breath. “You did write your vows, didn’t you?” Her eyes shone with anxiety, and he really didn’t like it.
“Of course I did,” he said. “I memorized them.” It wasn’t like the speech would be very long. When she’d brought up the subject of them writing their own vows, he’d gone along with it, willing to do whatever she wanted to make her wedding day perfect.
“Charlotte,” he said, his voice cracking a teensy bit. “I love you. You’re my best friend, and the only person I’ve actually wanted to spend more than a few weeks with.” His friends twittered, but they didn’t realize how true he’d spoken.
“Today, I give myself to you in marriage. I hope to encourage you, inspire you, laugh with you, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I’ll love you from here to the end of time, and I promise to put your needs ahead of my own. I really can’t wait to be your husband.”
He hadn’t exactly put the words in that order before, but they seemed good enough, especially when Charlotte sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her eye.
“Your turn,” he said in an overly dramatic whisper, and she rolled her eyes.
“Dawson Dane,” she started. “You came into my life when I didn’t want you there. You sprayed me with water, were living in my house, and stole my heart when it wasn’t even whole yet.” She gave him a wobbly smile, and Dawson squeezed her hands.
“You gave me time when I needed it. Love when it was hard to give. Comfort when I pushed you away. I love you for all of that, and for being the man that you are. I promise to love, cherish, and honor you forever.” She glanced out at the small crowd and back at him. “And I really can’t wait to be your wife.”
Dawson chuckled, and they looked back at the pastor, who just needed to say the words so they could get the rest of this party started.
He went through the spee
ch, finally ending with, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Dawson grinned wickedly at Charlotte, who said, “Dawson,” before he dipped her back in that decadent dress and pressed his mouth over whatever she was going to say next.
He kept it chaste, as per her instructions, and lifted her back up again. She raised her pink roses above her head while he lifted their joined hands between them.
A cheer went up from their family and friends, and Dawson experienced more joy in that moment than any other of his life. An adrenaline rush surged through him, and he looked at Charlotte—now his wife—and said, “I love you,” before leading her down the aisle and back up the stairs to their house.
At the top of the steps, they paused, the camera and the crowd below them, and Dawson kissed his true love again.
Dawson and Charlotte made things work! If you liked this book, please leave a review for it today.
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Sneak Peek! Tidal Agreement Chapter One
Burke Lawson parked his truck outside the main building at Petals and Leis, his family’s flower farm in the hills. After getting out, he drew in a deep breath of the fresh, perfumed, morning air, glad he’d beaten the sun to work this morning. As usual.
Burke rarely slept past four, and he didn’t care if his early bedtime contradicted the persona he had to maintain. Somehow, the knowledge that he hadn’t been on a second date—or even a real first date—in years got around to the right people.
And that was how he liked it.
His father pulled into the lot a few minutes later, dressed for business like normal. He’d taught Burke everything he knew about the fields, the land, the flowers. Not to mention the fertilizers, the harvesting, the reseeding. And that was just the growing side of things.
Burke had to know about sales too, and management, and hiring. He spent time in the shipping department to learn how to keep flowers fresh, how the deliveries worked, all of it.
After all, when his dad was ready to retire, Burke wanted to be ready to take over the business, keep it in the family, preserve what generations of Lawsons had built.
“Morning, Dad,” he said, drawing his father’s attention to the bench Burke liked to sit on in the morning as the sun rose over Hawaii and painted Getaway Bay in gorgeous, golden light.
His father took a few moments to find him among the foliage, and Burke lifted his hand and grinned.
“What are you doing, hiding there?”
“Dad, I sit here every morning while I wait for you to show up.” Burke stood and stretched as if he’d been out partying all night.
His dad wore an expression that expressed his disappointment at such a prospect and dug in his pocket for the keys to the building. Burke had a set too, but he liked to wait for his dad, this morning ritual of theirs something he didn’t want to give up yet.
“How’s Mom?” he asked.
“Doing a bit better.” His dad unlocked the door and stood back so Burke could enter first. He took a long look at his dad as he passed, finding that his blond hair had started to turn white. When had that happened?
Burke ran his hands through his own flop of light, sandy-colored hair and threw a smile at his dad.
“You look tired,” he said. “You getting enough sleep?”
“Yeah, Dad, when I can.” Burke didn’t tell him that the insomnia plagued him every night, no matter how much melatonin he took or how long he meditated.
“Stay out too late?”
Burke inhaled to deny it, but instead, he let the comment slide. That way, he didn’t have to admit that he spent every night with Dolly, his golden retriever who had a slobbering problem.
He walked side-by-side with his dad into the office space, but Burke bypassed his and settled in the chair across from his dad’s desk.
He’d put his keys in the top drawer, and wake up his computer. He’d read a few things, and they’d be out in the fields and orchards in thirty minutes or less.
Burke let his father go through the motions, somehow finding peace in them. Something had been seething inside him for a while now, and he hadn’t been able to name it.
But it wasn’t peaceful or soothing. He felt…unsettled. But he had no idea how to cure himself.
“Ready?” His dad stood and reached for the sun hat hanging on the hook beside his desk.
Burke stood too, glad the routine this morning had taken less than fifteen minutes. He yearned to be outside, away from walls, where he wouldn’t feel so caged. He collected a baseball cap from the top of the bookcase in his office and followed his father outside.
“Let’s go out to the plumeria orchards.” His father grabbed a set of keys from the drawer in the desk by the back door, and Burke braced himself for a hard conversation. His dad only went out to the plumeria orchards to say something that had been bothering him for a while. Burke supposed he should be grateful for his dad’s predictability, but his heart felt like a hunk of lead in his chest. He really didn’t want to have to defend himself today.
It was almost comical that his dad couldn’t see through Burke’s carefully constructed reputation. But not many could.
Ash can, he thought as he climbed into the passenger seat of the side-by-side recreation vehicle they used to get around the huge flower farm. With over a dozen varieties of flowers being grown on the property, Petals and Leis employed over sixty people year-round and required seven-days-a-week attention.
Today, as they maneuvered along the dirt road between two fields, Burke caught sight of at least half a dozen people already at work among a field of bright pink carnations.
As the engine kept him and his father flying toward the trees on the far edge of the property, Burke considered coming clean about what his life was really like. But then he’d have to delve into why, and he didn’t think he was ready to open that door quite yet.
Once again, the thought of his best friend, Ashley Fox, popped into his mind. She’d recently come out of a relationship with a guy she’d thought could propose. Six months later, and Burke could still see the heartbreak on her face whenever he asked her about it.
His failed relationship was six years old, but he thought he’d done a decent job of hiding his feelings from everyone. After all, everyone loved a good sense of humor, and he could keep the party alive with a few well-told jokes and a single well-placed smile.
Even Ash had never questioned him much about Bridgette.
His father parked the ATV and got out, a sigh leaking from his lips as the gray sky started to lighten with shades of yellow and gold. Burke pushed his hand through his hair, thinking it was probably time to get it cut, and positioned the hat low over his eyes.
If his father wanted to talk, Burke needed some sort of barrier.
His dad wouldn’t say much for the first few minutes anyway. If he did, it would be about the trees, the flowers, or their business.
Sure enough, as he moved into the trees, pushing toward the larger, more mature grove at the back, he said, “Petals and Leis has been very lucky to stay in the family for so long.”
“Mm,” Burke said noncommittally. He’d heard this before. Six generations of the family-owned business was no joke among the Lawson’s.
“It’s almost your turn,” his dad said.
“Yeah,” Burke agreed. “I want the farm, Dad. You know that, right?”
“Of course.” His father trailed his fingers along the trun
k of a plumeria tree that stood about fifteen feet tall. In mid-summer, the trees were practically dripping with blooms, but Burke somehow knew he and his father weren’t there to harvest. In fact, he thought he remembered seeing the plumeria harvest on the schedule for next Monday.
“The plumeria are my favorite flowers,” his dad said. “So beautiful. So serene.”
Burke loved them too, only because on the many hikes he’d taken around Getaway Bay and the other Hawaiian islands, every time he looked up, he only saw greenery. But here, looking up through the trees brought an explosion of colors that made his soul sing with happiness.
“Burke, I’m almost ready to retire,” his dad said, turning back to him. “I want to pass the farm to you.”
Burke sensed a but, and he paused too. His muscles cinched like someone had pulled a drawstring on them. Tight. Tighter.
“You need a haircut,” his dad said, a frown in the words that was mirrored on his face.
“I can get a haircut,” Burke said.
“You need to settle down,” his father said next, his gaze even and the frown gone. “Your mother and I love you, but we want this farm to stay in the Lawson family for six more generations.”
Burke blinked at his father, unsure of the meaning of the words. “I want that too, Dad.”
His father’s head cocked to the side. “Do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“So…who do you think you’ll pass the farm to?”
“I—” Burke’s voice died, sudden understanding stealing the life from the words and the air from his lungs.
He wasn’t married.
Wasn’t even dating anyone.
Didn’t want to date anyone.
Or get married.
“The twins like working here.” His dad turned and started walking again, more of a stroll than anything else. They certainly weren’t working this morning. “But neither Kayla nor Krista wants to run the place.”