Chapter 28 The Final Week
The wedding was seven days away. Eleanor's garden was transformed. White chairs sat in neat rows. Roses climbed the arch. Fairy lights twinkled along the path. The children had practiced their roles so many times that Leo could walk down the aisle backward without tripping.
I stood at the kitchen window, watching Damian chase Max through the grass. Lily was arranging flowers in a bucket, her tongue poking out in concentration. Rose sat on the porch steps, writing in a small notebook, her brow furrowed.
"Are you nervous?" Rosa appeared beside me, coffee in hand.
"Terrified."
"Good terrified?"
I turned to her. "The best kind."
She hugged me tightly. "You've come so far. From that woman who showed up at my door with two babies and no plan. Crying on my couch at two in the morning. Look at you now."
I wiped my eyes. "Look at us."
That afternoon, we had a final fitting for the dresses.
Eleanor had insisted on buying them. Simple white for the girls, cream for me. The fabric was soft, almost weightless. Rose twirled in front of the mirror, her reflection serious and pleased. Lily spun until she fell down, laughing on the carpet.
"You look beautiful," I told them.
Rose stopped twirling. "Mommy, can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Are you scared to marry Daddy?"
I knelt beside her, smoothing the hem of her dress. "A little. But scared in a good way. Like before a big adventure."
She considered this, her gray eyes thoughtful. "I was scared when we moved here. Now I'm not."
"What changed?"
She looked toward the living room, where Damian was helping Max with his bow tie. Leo was giving instructions. Lily was trying to put a flower crown on the dog.
"He stayed," Rose said simply.
I pulled her into a hug. "Yes. He did."
On Wednesday, Eleanor called with a problem.
"The caterer canceled. Something about a family emergency." Her voice was tight, almost panicked. "We have six days. No food. No backup."
I closed my eyes and took a breath. "I'll handle it."
"What are you going to do?"
I thought of Rosa's kitchen, of all the meals she had cooked for us over the years. The Sunday roasts. The birthday cakes. The midnight snacks when I couldn't sleep.
"I know someone."
I called Rosa. She answered on the second ring. "I need a favor."
"Name it."
"Can you cater a wedding for fifty people in six days?"
Silence. Then: "Is that even a question? Of course I can. I've been waiting for you to ask."
I laughed, relief flooding through me. "You're a lifesaver."
"I know. Now let me make a list. Tell me about dietary restrictions."
Thursday brought rain. The children were restless, trapped inside. Leo and Lily built a fort in the living room using every blanket in the house. Max drew dinosaurs on every available surface, including the refrigerator. Rose read aloud from a chapter book, her voice steady and calm.
Damian sat beside me on the couch, watching the chaos. "This is our life now."
"Forever," I said.
"Promise?"
I looked at him, at the ring on my finger, at the children who had somehow become ours. "Promise."
He kissed me, soft and slow, while the children argued about blanket placement. It was not a romantic moment. It was better. It was real.
On Friday, Rose asked to speak with me alone.
We sat on the porch swing, the rain finally stopped, the air fresh and clean. She held her notebook in her lap, hugging it like a treasure.
"I finished my poem," she said. "For the wedding."
"Can I hear it?"
She shook her head firmly. "Not yet. It's a surprise for you and Daddy."
I smiled. "I love surprises."
She was quiet for a moment, swinging her legs. Then: "Mommy, do you think Daddy loves us the same as Leo and Max?"
My heart clenched. "Why do you ask?"
"Because they've been with him longer. Since they were babies." She looked at her hands. "We're new."
I took her chin gently, turning her face toward mine. "Love doesn't work like that. There's not a limited amount. He loves you just as much. Maybe more, because he waited so long to find you."
Her eyes searched mine. "Promise?"
"Promise."
She nodded and went back inside, her notebook clutched to her chest.
That night, I told Damian what she had asked.
He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "I need to do something."
He walked to the yellow room and knocked on the door. "Rose? Can I come in?"
I heard her soft, "Yes."
I stayed in the hallway, listening, my back against the wall.
"I heard you asked your mom a question," Damian said. "About love."
Silence.
"I want you to know something." His voice was thick, almost breaking. "The day I met you at the farmer's market, something changed in me. I didn't know you were my daughter yet. But I felt it. A pull. A knowing."
"Like magic?" Rose asked.
"Like fate." He paused. "I love you, Rose. Not because I have to. Because you're you. And I will spend the rest of my life showing you that."
I heard Rose sniffle. Then the creak of the bed as she hugged him.
"I love you too, Daddy."
I slid down the wall, tears streaming. This was why we were doing this. These moments. This family.
Saturday, the day before the wedding, was chaos.
Rosa arrived with trays of food. Eleanor brought extra flowers. The children ran in circles, wild with excitement. Leo kept asking if he could start his speech. Lily wanted to know if the dog could attend. Max had lost one shoe.
Damian and I stood in the middle of it all, holding hands.
"We should have eloped," he said.
I laughed. "And missed this?"
He looked around at the noise, the love, the mess. "No. This is perfect."
That night, after the children were asleep, we sat on the porch alone.
The air was cool. The stars were out. Somewhere, a cricket sang.
"Tomorrow," he said.
"Tomorrow."
"Are you ready?"
I thought about the journey. The fear. The walls. The slow, painful work of learning to trust again. And now, standing on the edge of forever.
"I'm ready," I said. "Are you?"
He took my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "I've been ready for five years. I just didn't know it."
We sat in silence, watching the stars. The ring caught the moonlight. Tomorrow, we would say vows. Tomorrow, we would become husband and wife.
But tonight, we were simply two people who had lost each other and found their way back.
And that was enough.