Liv inhaled deeply through her nose. Warm fragrant earth and the sweet scent of flowers. For a place that honored the dead, there was an incredible sense of life out here. Because there always was life, always movement and momentum. If you weren’t dead, you were alive. A calm sense of certainty filled her. She gave the gravestone a quick smile, turning in the direction of her family, before spinning back. “Oh, and don’t get in your head about it, but Savannah Shipley has a girlfriend.”
She was laughing as she walked toward her fiancé and children, imagining Eliot’s stunned disbelief.
When Sam and Liv got engaged, the first thing Savannah said was, “You have to let me plan the wedding.”
“Don’t you mean, Congratulations?” Liv teased, giddy and girlishly happy.
“Oh my gosh, sorry: congratulations, and you’re perfect for each other, and please, please, please let me plan the wedding.” She looked equally hopeful and determined. “Just me. On my own.”
Savannah had never done a wedding solo before, from start to finish. This, the vendors all joked, would be her introduction to wedding-planning society. For months, she’d been working on getting every detail perfect.
“Are you really trusting her to do everything?” Gorman had asked, refilling Liv’s glass as they toasted (again) to sexy Sam. “Isn’t that driving you crazy, Ms. Type A?”
Liv shook her head. In her leafy backyard, Ben was reading a book about space travel while Dottie was running around in a tutu. “I trust her.”
Gorman twisted his wedding band absentmindedly. “Isn’t life fascinating?” he murmured. “How it all turns out.”
Now, as they all arrived home from the cemetery, Savannah made her go blindfolded upstairs into her and Sam’s bedroom, where she was going to get ready. “No peeking!”
For her first wedding, at Temple Emanu-El on the Upper East Side, Liv had gone all out in a Vera Wang ball gown the size of a small planet and six bridesmaids in purple silk. This time, it was different. As soon as she’d laid eyes on the floor-length cream lace dress in a local vintage store, she knew it was the one. Simple and elegant, the dress evoked old-world glamour, and the three-quarter sleeves covered her arm fat.
Liv did her own hair and makeup. No false lashes or extensions or contouring. Her face was her face. She’d rather look like a fiftysomething than a fiftysomething trying to look thirty. She didn’t want to be thirty. She wanted to be right where she was.
Downstairs, the house filled with the sound of arriving guests. Nerves bubbled up.
“Knock, knock.” Gorman stuck his head around the door. On seeing her, his eyes grew wide. Then misty. He pressed his fingers to his lips.
“That bad?” Liv joked.
He swatted her. “Don’t even.”
Henry was behind him, both hands behind his back. “I know you wanted to keep it simple but…”
“Every queen needs her crown,” Gorman finished. “Take it from the biggest queens of all.”
The two men presented Liv with an elegant flower crown. Pink roses and purple lilacs and yellow goldenrod. “All from your garden,” Gorman said proudly. “Which is looking absolutely—”
Henry elbowed him. “Don’t ruin the surprise!”
Liv marveled at their creation. “It’s beautiful.” She hugged them both, wiping away a tear. “This day is already perfect. How can it get any better?”
Gorman offered her his arm. “Why don’t you marry a deliciously hot chef?”
Savannah was in the doorway. Her face was aglow. It’d taken Liv a few days to get used to the new haircut. But the choppy platinum-blond bob suited the woman Savannah had become in New York. “We’re ready for you.”
Greenery wound down the staircase and lined the hallway. Liv felt like a fairy queen as she floated through the first floor of the house.
The backyard took her breath away. It was full of flowers. Hundreds of clear bottles with one or two colorful stems hung suspended along the back and side fences. More blooms wove around a wooden arbor, which was loosely wrapped with a swathe of ivory silk. The assembled crowd, brightly attired in the dress code of summer chic, fell silent. In her clear, pretty voice, Darlene Mitchell started “Here Comes the Sun.” Her boyfriend, Zach, accompanied her on acoustic guitar. “ ‘Little darling, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here.’ ” The duo had planned the East Coast tour for their debut album, Dark Secret, around the wedding. Their band was blowing up, but they weren’t missing this for the world. Sam and Liv were part of their love story, too.
Ben and Dottie, angelic in all white, scattered wildflowers down the aisle. A wave of laughter rippled through the gathering when Dottie ran out of flowers and started throwing them from Ben’s basket. Liv’s heart swelled at the gracious way Ben let his almost-stepsister steal the spotlight.
Gorman walked Liv through the center of their assembled guests. All eyes were on her, but she was only looking at Sam. His kind eyes and broad shoulders and big hands. Big enough to catch her if—when—she fell. But she felt strong enough to catch him, too. She only took her eyes off him when it was time to read her vows.
“Sam Woods,” she began. “I love you. Tenderly. Wildly, and with my whole heart. Because you are so easy to love.”
Zach was already teary. Darlene grinned and pulled him closer.
“On the day we met, I thought you were an intruding sex pest, so I brandished a banana at you and threatened to throw you in jail.”
Everyone laughed.
“And you handled that like you handle all aspects of your life.
