“Unless you’re already having second thoughts,” she said.
He crawled back into bed beside her and wrapped her in his arms. “Not a chance. This is it for me. I want nights exactly like this for the rest of our lives.” He winced, then amended, “Well, maybe not exactly like this.”
She snuggled closer, regretting that they couldn’t do more. “Me, too.”
Connor had been right, after all. Sometimes things became clear only after you got back to basics.
EPILOGUE
Connor was never sure if Mick had bribed the priest or if Gram had used her powers of persuasion, but he finally agreed to perform the wedding in a far more timely manner than he’d originally insisted was possible. If it had been up to Connor, they could have skipped the whole elaborate church thing, but Bridget had her heart set on it, and, to be honest, he’d seen that Heather wanted it as well. Since he couldn’t deny her anything, he’d gone along with the big production.
Now that he was standing in the front of the small church, which Bree and Gram had filled with flowers and decorated with candles, he was glad he hadn’t said no. There was something solemn about the moment that made it all feel much more real. He felt hopeful, too, something he hadn’t anticipated. And scared senseless, which he had definitely anticipated.
“You okay?” Kevin asked, regarding him worriedly. “You’re not going to pass out or bolt, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Connor said, his gaze on the back of the church.
When the music began, he watched impatiently as little Mick wobbled his way down the aisle with the rings, Davy and Henry on either side to keep him from getting distracted and taking off with them. Then came Carrie and Caitlyn, looking so grown-up and pleased with themselves in their long satin dresses. Laila and Connie were next as Heather’s maids of honor. He noted that Connie’s gaze kept straying to Uncle Thomas, who was seated with the ushers.
And then the music swelled and Heather was standing there in a simple, unadorned white satin dress that made her look as willowy and elegant as a model. She quite literally took his breath away, just as she’d been doing since the day they’d met.
So this was why people did this, he thought, awestruck. In a single moment, he was captivated by an image that would stay with him forever. This beautiful woman, the mother of his child, was going to be his wife.
And astonishingly, in that instant, he realized there was nothing the least bit terrifying about it. In fact, nothing had ever felt more right.
* * *
Heather had been in a daze for most of the past couple of months. Once she was finally out of the cast and back on her feet, wedding preparations had occupied every spare minute. Bridget and Megan had taken over most of them, organizing the event with the determined precision of some kind of strategic commander in the military. She had only to show up for fittings with the dressmaker and tastings with the caterers and viewings of the flower arrangements Bree had designed. Even at that, it had been a little overwhelming.
She’d fully expected Connor to bolt amid all the craziness, but he hadn’t. He’d been steadfast and amazingly upbeat.
Even now, as he waited for her at the front of the church, there wasn’t the slightest hint of panic in his eyes. In fact, if anyone was nervous, it was her father, who kept looking at her as if they’d just been introduced.
“I’m still trying to figure out when you went and grew up on me,” he said, his eyes damp with tears. “You’ve turned into a beautiful young woman, Heather. And you’ve obviously made a good life for yourself here. Connor’s a lucky man.”
“Thank you,” she said, blinking back her own tears. Sensitive to her mother’s feelings, she’d been torn about including her father in the wedding, but her mother had been adamant. “He’s your father. You should ask him, if you want him here. I’ll be fine. And it’s past time he met his grandson.”
Still, Heather had hesitated. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“I think we can get along for a day or two,” her mother said. “We managed it for years.”
“Have you told him yet that you’re going to be staying on here?” she’d asked her.
Bridget shook her head. “I thought we could get into it after the wedding.”
Heather asked one more thing of her mother before she made the call to invite him. “Do you think he’d sing at the wedding?”
“I think he’d be pleased if you asked,” her mother said.
And he had been.
Now, though, Charles Donovan ran a finger around the collar of his tuxedo shirt. “You sure you want me to sing before you say your vows?” he asked nervously. “Mostly I sing down at the pub. Folks there aren’t expecting much.”
She smiled at his modesty, knowing her mother wouldn’t have credited him with the voice of an angel if it weren’t true. “I’m a hundred percent certain,” she told him.
“And that’s the song you want? When Irish Eyes Are Smiling?”
She nodded. “With two Irish families, it seems fitting,” she told him. “And if this marriage goes the way I intend it to, Connor and I will be smiling together for a very long time.”
“Okay, then,” her father said.
She drew on his strength as she walked down the aisle. Though she’d been out of her cast and doing physical therapy for a few weeks now, she didn’t trust her leg, but looking into Connor’s eyes and trusting in her father’s steadiness, she practically glided to the front of the church.
Her father put her hand into Connor’s, then walked to the side of the altar to stand next to the organist. When he began to sing, his voice soared through the small church. He
