“You know it,” Finn says, rising to his feet to introduce himself. “I’m Finn.” He extends his hand to Sawyer.
She takes it gladly. “Finn. I like that name. I’m Sawyer. It’s really nice to meet you.”
Caleb is up next; he rises just as Finn. “Sawyer Westbrook. Holy shit.”
“Caleb Everhart? Oh my God. You’re Isaac’s Caleb?”
“And you’re the mystery date,” Caleb replies. “Wow. It’s a small world.”
“You can say that again.” She lets out a chuckle, visibly loosening up a little since she isn’t completely new to everyone.
We slide in to take our seats across from them. The sides of the train car are glass all the way to the roof and partially above you in order to provide the perfect view up to the Napa Valley. Sawyer is looking around in wonder, and the alpha male inside of me is proud she’s experiencing things like this with me.
An attendant, a young man with a pristine blue bowtie, appears at our sides quickly, asking us which type of wine or beverage we’d like for our ride. Sawyer opts for the favorite of the attendant, who has introduced himself as Lucas, which is a sweet white, while I opt for a Maker’s Mark neat.
“So how did you two meet?” Caleb asks, motioning between the two of us.
Sawyer looks my way then decides to answer him for the both of us. “I bumped into him at the Harvest Festival and spilled hot chocolate all over him.”
“Ruined a perfectly good shirt,” I tease.
“And then he basically stalked me and forced me to go on a date with him. A few dates later, here we are,” Sawyer says, as she smiles up to Lucas when he returns with our drinks.
“That part is only half true,” I say in defense, but both Finn and Caleb are staring with clear humor in their gaze.
“Sounds about right for our friend here,” Finn adds.
“Oh, so I’m not special? Gee, thanks. Nice to know I’m just another conquest.” Sawyer takes a sip of her wine and holds stock in silence before giggling. “I’m kidding. Geez, I couldn’t even pretend to be that crazy.”
Caleb and Finn toss their heads back and laugh.
They like her instantly. Caleb had a head start because they are colleagues, but seeing her seamlessly shooting the shit with my friends makes whatever nervousness residing in my chest ebb away.
This is going to be a good weekend. I can feel it.
Sawyer
“Holy shit.”
I stand stock-still after we step out of the black car that brought us from the train to the wedding venue, which is also where the entirety of the guests and bridal party will be staying, and stare in complete splendor.
“What?” Isaac asks with a hand to the small of my back.
“What do you mean what?” I hold my arm out toward the giant mansion in front of us. “You somehow failed to mention you were bringing me to a damn castle for the weekend!”
The monumental work of architectural magic feels like something that has been plucked from a fairy tale and placed before us. With its cathedral-style windows, and stunning smoky gray stone making up the structure itself, in addition to a beautifully high, angled roof, I almost immediately feel like a peasant about to walk in and ruin the illusion completely.
“Christopher’s bride, Danielle, comes from a very well-to-do family. She wanted the fairy-tale wedding. They came through,” Isaac tells me.
“I can’t go in there,” I say, with a shake of my head.
“What? Why?”
“Look at me. I’m so… plain, and that is so… not plain.”
“Okay, no,” Isaac says, as he turns and takes my face in his hands. “Look at me, don’t speak, just listen.”
Of course, I instantly open my mouth to say something, but he silences me with a kiss to the lips.
“You are not plain. You’re beautiful and you belong here. You belong everywhere.”
Any thought of self-doubt or anxiety about being in such an amazing place with such an incredible human being melts away with such a simple touch from him. A man I really don’t know that well. Hell, I don’t even know his middle name.
When he finally breaks the kiss and my eyes blink open, that cocky smirk is greeting me.
“You look awfully proud of yourself,” I tell him.
“I am.” He leans in and gives me one more peck then brushes my hair out of my face. “You’re beautiful, and I’m one proud son of a bitch that you’re going to be on my arm this weekend.”
His compliment makes me warm and fuzzy, but it also makes me want to shrink into the ground and hide. I don’t take them very well.
“Isaac, what’s your middle name?” I ask with absolutely no preamble.
“Andrew. Why? That was random.”
“Mine is Elizabeth. I just thought we should know that about one another.”
“Well then, Sawyer Elizabeth.” He stands taller when he speaks and gives his best regal accent, “Shall we?” He offers his arm to me and I slip mine through.
“We shall, Isaac Andrew.”
***
“I feel like I’m never going to stop being in awe all weekend long.”
I step into our room for the weekend and I have stop myself from audibly gasping. It is literally a room that could have belonged to a princess.
The walls are a rich champagne color with gold crown molding lining the tops and bottoms of the walls. There is a dark, oak wardrobe in the right corner by two French doors that lead to a balcony. There’s a huge four-poster bed against the left wall, centered directly in front of a beautiful fireplace with a black steel screen on the hearthstone.
I slide my hand over the lush, white duvet placed perfectly over the bed along with many inviting pillows.
“Goddamn,” Isaac calls from the bathroom. “Come check this out.”
I follow the sound of his voice and step into a bathroom that is even better than I could have imagined.
A Jacuzzi tub that
